# A Rose In The Wind:  A Saga of the Halmae -- Updated June 19, 2014



## ellinor

**In addition to its regularly updated form on these Boards, this Story Hour is being collected into PDF form through the generous work of StevenAC.  For those who wish to read the collected first 35 chapters in PDF form, they can be found here:  http://stevenac.net/rosewind/StoryHour.htm.  Otherwise -- and for the most recent updates and comments -- read on!**

###

Good things happen on Fajitas’ birthday.  Six years ago, Spyscribe commemorated the day by introducing the Story Hour http://www.enworld.org/forum/story-hour/42423-welcome-halmae-updated-2-27-07-a.html#post730523   Her reasons for beginning the story hour were that she was (a) compulsive and (b) poor.  Our reasons for beginning this one?  Well, we are (a) obsessive and (b) not exactly rich.  Bottom line: it is again Fajitas’ birthday, which makes it a perfect time to begin this chronicle of the new Halmae campaign, which began a couple of months ago.   We could never try to be Spyscribe, but we hope we’ll tell an enjoyable story, with much gratitude to Fajitas for giving us the story to tell.

Much has changed since the end of the campaign chronicled in “Welcome to the Halmae.“  A couple of the players moved away (we miss them!) and Spyscribe, lured by the inexorable draw of a career, has taken a (short-term) position across the country.   A few players (including Ilex and jonrog1) have joined the group.  And in the Halmae, sixteen years have passed since the end of the last campaign.   Ekht’s fire still burns; Kettenek’s halls still ring with justice, and Sedellus’ cold wind still blows over Alirria’s seas.  The shape of the Halmae remains the same, but her political climate has changed. 

. . . And – since we didn’t have our acts together well enough to have a full post ready by today, more time will pass before the story truly begins.  But watch this space.  

In the meantime, a taste, in the post below:  the introductory text that Fajitas provided us when he handed us each a player packet. 

Happy birthday, Fajitas.

Ellinor and Ilex


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## ellinor

*And so it begins*

Her name is Roseanna Giulietta di Raprezzi.  

Her friends call her Rose.​ 
The Church of Sedellus calls her The Sacrifice.
Before she was conceived, her mother sought to save a city by offering up “her children yet unborn” as a Sacrifice of Death.  The woman thought she was sacrificing her fertility. What the lurking Goddess, the Dark Mistress of Fate, of Autumn, of Trickery and Deceit thought she was offering, none can say for sure.​
Now Roseanna is sixteen years old, the age of majority in the Halmae.​ 
And she is tired of waiting to see what Fate has in store for her…​


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## spyscribe

So excited to read about this!  The hints I've gotten so far have been fascinating...

Thanks for writing it up for us!


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## Ilex

This is a test:  if you have been a truly loyal reader of Spyscribe's story hour, then you have heard me mentioned, though only the truest of the true believers will recall it.  But think back.  Once, a discussion arose about the implied _Buffy_ reference in the title of the story hour, "Welcome to the Halmae."  Spyscribe and Fajitas explained that neither one of them had intended to make the reference, despite being huge fans of the show.  Spyscribe added that her roommate surprised both her and Fajitas by calling attention to the Buffiness of the title.

I was that roommate.  

I spent several years hearing Spyscribe's stories of this game. I read the story hour, since so many of my friends were involved. I even sat in on a session once.  The whole time, though, I was convinced that this was not for me.  "I'm a geek, sure," I would think to myself, "and certainly when I created elaborate adventure games to play outdoors with my friends as a kid, I was doing something akin to this and loving it.  And absolutely I enjoy board games that have some plot and character to them, especially when I play them with this exact group of people.  And it's true that I become obsessively fond of long saga-ish TV shows.  And there's always the fact that, like others in this game, I'm a writer, but ... nah, D&D just isn't for me.  It's all, y'know, math."

As this new campaign began to take shape, Fajitas, WisdomLikeSilence, and the rest of the group went to work.  

Time passed.

At some point, I noticed vaguely out of the corner of my eye that they were all laughing at me a lot, fondly, like proud parents (also evilly, like vampire sires, but let that go) ... 

... and I was far too busy contemplating the details of my character's theological stance to care.  

It now seems only fitting that I'm teaming up with Ellinor to begin the new saga.  Hope you enjoy, and, of course... 

Happy Birthday, Fajitas!!!


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## EroGaki

I am looking forward to more excitement from the Halmae. Thanks for starting this up, and Happy Birthday, Fajitas!


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## energy_One

I look forward to it.


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## Fajitas

Awwww. My players are the best obsessive, non-rich people in the world... 

Can't wait to see how you guys write it all up.

For the curious among you, I will share three teaser-like facts:

1) Roseanna is Giovanna's daughter

2) Giovanna... is Lira

3) The events described above actually happened in one of the last sessions of the original Halmae Campaign

This, you see, is why it's sometimes good to leave a few dangling plot threads unresolved...


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## hafrogman

Great!  So now all we need to know is 

1) Will this new campaign will finally tell us who the new Chancellor is?

2) Given . . .







Fajitas said:


> 1) Roseanna is Giovanna's daughter
> 
> 2) Giovanna... is Lira



Do we know who the father is?  (Or is Sedellus not the kind to leave such a thing as fate up to the hands of biology?)

3) Are there any mustelids and/or gnomes involved?


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## spyscribe

hafrogman said:


> 2) Given . . .Do we know who the father is?  (Or is Sedellus not the kind to leave such a thing as fate up to the hands of biology?)




Why her _husband_ of course.  Who else would the father be?  *humph*


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## Seonaid

:w00t:


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## SKyOdin

I just found this thread, and I have to admit that I am excited at the prospect of more Halmae. I was one of those people who found the original Halmae storyhour only after spyscribe had to stop updating, and I have been eager to read more ever since.

Maybe I should reread the original storyhour to kill time for this new one to get started. And to refresh my memory on what the world was like.

BTW, Fajitas, I have to give you credit for creating one of the best pantheons I have ever seen. Every time I sit down to think up my own pantheon, I consider using a tweaked version of the four Halmae gods.


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## ellinor

*Prologue*

_SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO..._

Another shower of dirt and rocks came crashing down on them through the ragged hole torn in the ceiling.  Screams of terror filtered down from above, as the hideous creature rampaged through the Great Arena of Dar Aego.

Giovanna knelt beside Amelia’s body, her eyes searching for a trace of the poor, frightened girl she had first met so many years ago.  There was none to be found.  Only lines worn deep by years of anger, years of harboring thoughts of vengeance.  

_How long has it been? _, Giovanna thought, _Five years? Six? Before we found a new Chancellor for the Mages’ Academy.  Back when I was going by Lira. Since then, I’ve gotten married, had two children, become a proud and open sorcerer-- married into an entire family of proud and open sorcerers… and you’ve spent all that time still planning your retribution against Dar Aego.  My life has been about life.  Yours has only been about death…_

She reached out and closed Amelia’s eyes.

Above and around her, the shrieks and cries wreaked by Amelia’s long-planned vengeance continued.  

The party stood in the ruins of the Arena-Master’s quarters, in the catacombs beneath the Great Arena of Dar Aego, battered and bloodied.  The bodies of Amelia and her allies lay strewn about the room.  The hole in the ceiling had been made by the… by whatever undead horror Amelia had been growing beneath the arena.  The great monster she had released in the midst of the gladiatorial games.  

The room trembled. Above them, the creature shrieked its hideous, deafening cry.

“We have to do something!” Thatch shouted, looking to see if the wreckage left in the monster’s wake was stable enough to climb.

“Like what?” Eva yelled back, tightening a bandage around her arm.  “You can barely stand, Anvil’s out of healing. Even Lir--Giovanna's practically out of spells. We’re tapped out, and that thing is… well, it’s frikkin’ huge!”

“As long as I’ve got a sword, I can hit it,” Thatch insisted.

“Sure, until it tears your arms off—”

“Enough!” Anvil demanded.  His armor was dented and his cloak was torn.  “There is still one being here who is not completely helpless.” 

The party turned their attention back to the corner, where a strange, smoky being floated, hemmed in by a mystical square chalked on the floor. Its shape was indistinct, pulsing and flowing, more often shaped like a woman than anything else. Its face could never be clearly seen, save for its glowing white eyes. 

It was an angel of Sedellus: Goddess of Evil, of Death, of Luck, Lies, and Destruction.

 “You told us before that you were summoned to grant four wishes,” Anvil said, “but have of yet granted only three.”

Yesssss… the being hissed.

“Then we will claim the fourth,” Anvil said. “We wish for the destruction of the creature—"

“Careful,” Tandelle interrupted. “This is a powerful minion of Sedellus.  It will twist your words if you do not phrase them carefully.”

The being laughed, cold and harsh, as it briefly morphed into the form of a crying child.  You know the mind of our Mistress well, paladin. You speak with wisdom.  But I warn you: what you wish for I may not be able to grant.  I can attempt to do your bidding, but the creature is powerful.  It may be able to resist even my efforts to destroy it… 

The being paused, as its eyes surveyed the party. But there is power here among you. It may be possible to augment my powers, guaranteeing the creature’s destruction… if you are willing to make the necessary sacrifices.

The party looked around uneasily.  “What sacrifices?” Giovanna asked. 

Five of you must make sacrifices to my Lady, one for each of her aspects.  A Sacrifice of Deceit, a Sacrifice of Evil, a Sacrifice of Destruction, a Sacrifice of Fortune, and a Sacrifice of Death.

At these words, Giovanna felt a strange chill.

The sixth of you shall be the Conduit, to carry the Touch of the Goddess.  It must be one of you who is partial to the Dark Mistress… the being paused and looked at Eva.  It flowed quickly into the form of a haggard, naked crone. Though you reek of the Earth Slut, it added.

“Hey--” Thatch began.

“Not now,” Eva hissed.

“I will be the Conduit,” Tandelle said.  “It seems, as a paladin of Sedellus, I will be the more appropriate choice.”

“Then we shall make the sacrifices,” Anvil said.  “What must we sacrifice?”

Whatever you wish, the being said. Though the more it means to you, the greater the power it will grant.

The party briefly conferred. “We must decide who will make which sacrifice,” Anvil said.

“I can sacrifice Deceit,” Eva said. _I’ve got more than enough to spare,_ she thought.

“I’ll take Destruction,” said Thatch.

“. . . I’ll take Death,” said Giovanna, quietly.

The others made their decisions.  Rilke stepped forward first, limping on her injured leg.  “My name is Rilke Rengstorff,” the young wizard said.  “And I will make the Sacrifice of Evil.  I grew up in Dar Und.  I had to leave due to an… unresolved matter.  Involving a life I took.  I sacrifice now all my memories of that event.”

Done… the being hissed.

Rilke shot a quick look to the others. “Don’t ever let me go back to Dar U—” she began, but gasped as a stream of smoke poured from her nose, mouth, ears, and eyes. The smoke flowed into the mystic square and melded with the creature.

Rilke blinked.  “What was I saying?” she asked.

Who is next? the being asked.

Anvil stepped forward.  “I am Anvil the Just, Justicar of Kettenek.  I shall make the Sacrifice of Fortune.  I offer this: whenever I am to be tested for a promotion, whatever I have studied for that test shall be the wrong thing.  No matter how hard I try, I shall never be prepared for my examination.  I shall never rise within my order higher than I stand today.”

Eva leaned over to Thatch. “Wasn’t Tenacious just trying to promote him?” she asked.

Thatch nodded.  “He said he had a special position in mind for him in the Universal Law Caucus...”

Done… said the being.

Eva swallowed and stepped forward.  Then, taking a deep breath, she said, “My name is Eva Kouris, and I will make the Sacrifice of Deceit.  I have been… lying.  To all of you.  About many things.  But mostly to you….” She looked at Thatch.  “Two years ago, when you and I were living with the secret Alirrian monks in the Sovereignty?  I told you we had to leave one night.  I told you I didn’t know why.   That wasn’t true.  I knew why. We had to leave because the Sovereigns were coming for the monks.”

“What?” Thatch asked.  “But… how did they… how did they find out?”

Eva paused before making herself answer: “I gave them up.”

Thatch’s jaw dropped. “But… but… worship of Alirria is punishable by death in the Sovereignty.” 

“I know,” Eva said.

“Those monks, they were—“

“I know.”

Thatch stared at her, horrified, as if he had never seen her before.  “Why would you do that?”

“I… look, it doesn’t matter right now.” She turned to the being of smoke.  “There. There’s your sacrifice.  That good enough?” she snarled.

Yesssss… the being whispered, and a cold hiss of laughter accompanied it.

Thatch stepped forward next. He shot Eva a painful look before turning his full attention to the being. He drew his bloodied greatsword and offered it in both hands. “This was my uncle’s sword. He used it back in the wars in his youth, and it’s served me pretty well, too.  It is the only weapon I’ve ever used in battle…Now it’s yours. A Sacrifice of Destruction…”

A ringing sound began to fill the room, as if the sword had been struck against stone.  The ringing grew louder and louder.  The sword began to shake in Thatch’s hand.  Before his eyes, the trembling blade of the weapon suddenly fell apart into dust, leaving him holding nothing but a useless hilt.

Eva stepped forward, trying to put a hand on Thatch’s shoulder, but Thatch shrugged away from her.  “Who’s next?” he said, not looking up.

Above them, the creature roared. The room shook. Dust fell.

Trembling, Giovanna stepped forward.  _There’s no other choice, is there?_, she thought.  _It’s easier this way.  I’m giving up something I don’t really even have.  Better I do this than one of the others have to give up something more painful…_  She stifled a sob as she thought of Dante, her husband.  She knew how badly he wanted more children. She thought of Diego and Tavi, and of the brothers and sisters they would never have.  _But my fertility is a small price to pay for all the lives up there… he’ll understand.  I know he will._

“My name is Giovanna Niccolira Pauletta Rufina Pulcer Marie Allessandra Vittani di Raprezzi,” she said, “and I make the Sacrifice of Death.  I offer you my children yet unborn…”

A cold, whispering laughter filled the room.  Done… said the being.  

The cold feeling that had lurked in Giovanna’s heart since the creature first spoke suddenly sank down to her womb.

_Ehkt forgive me,_ she thought…

But there was little time for thought.  The being suddenly swirled in on itself into a whirlpool of smoke.  Behind them, Tandelle gasped.  Her arms and legs went rigid; her back arched.  Power coursed through her.  Power and understanding, too much of either to withstand for long.

Now! the being hissed. While the Touch of the Goddess is upon you! Make your wish….

Tandelle made the wish.

There was a great rush of wind, exploding as if from Tandelle herself.  Dust and debris flew about the room. Everyone dove for cover, protecting their ears from the ever increasing, unbearable roar of the wind…

_THREE DAYS LATER…_

Dante di Raprezzi was nervous.  He hadn’t seen his wife for two weeks, since she had left home due to some… well, he wasn’t quite clear on the details, but it had something to do with her past, and now turned out to have had something to do with the horror stories coming out of Dar Aego.  Thank the gods the creature had been stopped.

And that Giovanna was all right.

The door opened… and there she was, Euro on her shoulder.  Just as he remembered her.  She didn’t say a word, she simply stood there looking at him.

He didn’t care.  He rushed forward and took her in his arms, holding her as tightly as he could.

“It’s good to see you,” he whispered.  “I’m so glad you’re back.”

He felt the tears trickling down her face.  For a fleeting moment, he thought they were tears of joy… but the expression on her face said otherwise.  

“What is it?” he asked.  “What’s wrong.”

“Something… something happened…” Giovanna whispered.  And she burst into tears.

_TWO WEEKS LATER…_

Giovanna stood outside the Temple of Sedellus in Dar Pykos.  _Why did we have to meet here?_ she wondered.  _Anywhere in the city, why did it have to be here?_

She looked up at the massive symbol of Sedellus in front of the Temple and shuddered.  It was all she could do not to spit on the ground in front of it.

“Congratulations,” said a young woman passing by.

Giovanna turned to look at the woman.  She was a Twilight Sister.  “Excuse me?” Giovanna said.

“Congratulations,” the Sister repeated. “On the baby.”

Giovanna’s blood turned cold.  “What baby?” she whispered.

###

“Why would she say that! How could she see a baby!”

“Some Twilight Sisters have special sight,” Tandelle mused, not looking at Giovanna. The Sedellan paladin had been strange and aloof ever since Dar Aego.

“I thought they could see death, not babies,” Eva said.

“Yes,” Tandelle replied, as if from far away.  “They can see death.”

“But there can’t be a baby!” Giovanna insisted. “I can’t be pregnant!”

“Haven’t you and Dante… you know… since—” Thatch said.

Giovanna fixed him with a withering look. “That’s not the point. The point is I gave up my fertility. That’s what I sacrificed.”

“Are you sure?” Tandelle asked quietly.

“Yes! I was there!”

“What exactly did you say?” Tandelle asked.

“I said I offered up my children yet unborn as a Sacrifice of Death.”

There was a pause in the room. “Strictly speaking,” Anvil said carefully, “that is not the same as your fertility.”

Giovanna froze. Her children yet unborn.  She’d meant her fertility, but she’d said her children yet unborn… and now she had an unborn child...

Giovanna clutched her stomach, suddenly queasy.  “Oh, gods…” she whispered. “What have I done…”

_NINE MONTHS LATER…_

The screams of childbirth echoed through the di Raprezzi household…

…until at last, they came to a stop.  An eerie silence blanketed the house. 

A Giver of Life handed Giovanna her new born daughter.  The child’s eyes were wide.  A tuft of grey hair sprung from her head.  She did not wail or cry.  She did not make a sound.  She simply looked at her mother calmly, with her deep grey eyes.

Giovanna’s lip began to tremble.

They named her Roseanna Giulietta di Raprezzi.

She is the Sacrifice of Death…


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## Jackylhunter

This!...Is!...So!...COOOL!!!!
I can't tell you how excited I was to see another Halmae storyhour.  Good luck to you all.  I mean, we all know Fajita can be an evil DM...


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## Ilex

The update you've just read is by Fajitas himself.  When we told him that we were going to write up the story hour, ellinor and I added, "And hey, it'd be great to have a prologue -- you know, just a little write-up of the events from the last campaign that planted the seed (*ahem*) for this one.  We're happy to do it, or if you want to do it yourself..."  Fajitas answered that he'd be glad to write us up a little something.  Knowing how busy he is, we were expecting a couple paragraphs.

A few days later, he casually e-mailed us the brilliant prologue that you've just read.  

This first update is thus a fantastic, beautifully written gift to Fajitas -- from Fajitas.  With the next update, we'll commence the part that doesn't involve the birthday boy doing _quite_ so much work, but for now, here's to him being generally awesome!  And thanks!


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## Seonaid

Hooray for the Halmae! Awesome start, ellinor & Ilex!


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## EroGaki

Wow, poor... everyone. That was a very freaky and heart-wrenching prologue. I'm looking forward to the next update!


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## wolff96

Although I notice that he was careful not to say WHO the new chancellor of the magical academy actually ended up being...  That's just mean.  

Awesome update, though.


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## Rughat

ellinor said:


> Giovanna knelt beside Amelia’s body, her eyes searching for a trace of the poor, frightened girl she had first met so many years ago.  There was none to be found.  Only lines worn deep by years of anger, years of harboring thoughts of vengeance.
> 
> _How long has it been? _, Giovanna thought, _Five years? Six? Before we found a new Chancellor for the Mages’ Academy.  Back when I was going by Lira. Since then, I’ve gotten married, had two children, become a proud and open sorcerer-- married into an entire family of proud and open sorcerers… and you’ve spent all that time still planning your retribution against Dar Aego.  My life has been about life.  Yours has only been about death…_
> 
> She reached out and closed Amelia’s eyes.
> 
> Above and around her, the shrieks and cries wreaked by Amelia’s long-planned vengeance continued.
> 
> The party stood in the ruins of the Arena-Master’s quarters, in the catacombs beneath the Great Arena of Dar Aego, battered and bloodied.  The bodies of Amelia and her allies lay strewn about the room.  The hole in the ceiling had been made by the… by whatever undead horror Amelia had been growing beneath the arena.  The great monster she had released in the midst of the gladiatorial games.





In a previous life, with my old ID, I said:


Rughat's Old ID: Trahnesi said:


> Amelia? The girl with the creepy "undead are my friends" thing going on? Oh boy. If I was any of the people who messed with her in Dar Aego, I'd be worried (even though she already wiped most of them out.) Actually, If I was anybody in Dar Aego, I'd be worried. I can just see her getting together with the Crossers and unleashing a horde of undead on that city.




Sorry.  I'll try to not give Fajitas ideas for this game.


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## Piratecat

Ra ra ra! I've been so looking forward to this.


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## Ladybird

Eeeee! Fajitas, that was beautiful! I can't wait to hear the rest!


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## ellinor

*1x01*

_SIXTEEN YEARS LATER…_

On the anniversary of her birth, Signora Roseanna di Raprezzi sat in a parlor of her family’s estate in Pol Henna, gently stroking the neck of a small dragon on her lap.  Her seven guests waited for her to begin speaking.  The few who did not know her stared:  at the pseudodragon, at her silver-gray hair.  

Accustomed to ignoring such stares, Rose began describing her mother’s sacrifice.  The newcomers, like most of Pol Hennan society, had never heard this story.  Rose’s family had kept the secret close.

Rose’s older brother, eighteen-year-old Tavi, listened quietly to the tale, though he knew it as well as he knew every vulnerable point where his sword might enter a living body.  From his sister’s birth, he had been raised as her guardian, forsaking all the other duties and pleasures a young Hennan boy of noble blood might have enjoyed.  Now, belying his apparent calm, a hummingbird was zipping and diving around his head:  his familiar, Phoebe.  Her voice buzzed in his mind: She’s really going to do it!  It’s really tonight!  Finally finally finally finally! Tavi allowed himself a slight smile, but kept his attention on his sister.

Rose reached the end of her story and took a deep breath, looking around the room.  “I’ve spent my whole life being told that I’m the Sacrifice of Death, and yet, in my whole life, nothing strange has ever happened to me . . . apart, perhaps, from my hair color,” she added, with a wry twitch of a grin.   “I’m a normal sorcerer, just like everyone else in my family.  I have no special talents, but people treat me differently, cautiously, as if I am dangerous.  Perhaps they are right to.  Perhaps not.  But I’m tired of waiting to find out."  She paused, determined.   "Today is my sixteenth birthday.  I have reached my age of majority.  My family is hosting a ball in my honor, and afterwards, while everyone is sleeping off the wine, I intend to sneak away.  And I am asking all of you to go on that journey with me, to help me find out what it means to be what I am . . . whatever that may ultimately entail.”  

Tavi knew that he wasn’t the only person in the room feeling pride as he listened to his sister’s words.  He could tell that the slight yet intimidating woman in her late twenties standing next to him was radiating approval, though to anyone else she probably just looked fierce.  Her dark hair tumbled down over her armor, which was adorned with a symbol of the Defiers of the Wind, an obscure sect of Sedellus.  Her flail hung at her side.  Her hands were covered in burn scars.  When Rose finished speaking, she broke the ensuing silence.  “I go where you go.” 

Rose nodded to the woman and turned to the rest of the group.  “This is Dame Filomena.  She has tutored my brother and me since we were children.”  

Mena scanned the room.  “Just ‘Mena’ is fine.”

Rose continued, signaling to Tavi.  “My brother, of course, is Signor Octavian di Raprezzi.”  

Tavi gave a well-practiced regal nod as the eyes in the room turned to him.  The hummingbird made a dizzying swoop past his head. Why is she still talking?  Why can’t we _go_?  

_We have to get through the introductions first, Phoebe_, he thought, tamping down on his own impatience. 

Everyone knows _you_ – done and done.  Come on, come on! 

Tavi cleared his throat.  “I’m honored to be accompanying my sister,” he said.  He turned to a strikingly nondescript man in the livery of the di Raprezzi family standing behind him.  “I have chosen Marcus, of our household guard, to accompany us as well.”  Marcus nodded silently.  Phoebe began flitting from one of Marcus’s ears to the other, buzzing in each of them in turn.  He refused to flinch.

Rose motioned toward a young, half-elven woman standing next to her.  “This is Lady Chelesta Little Branch Rossi, one of my ladies in waiting.  Lady Chelesta?”

Chelesta, who had been Rose’s playmate since they were small children, breezed past Rose’s formality.  “Everyone calls me Twiggy,” she said cheerfully.  She was barely older than her mistress, and well-described by her nickname.  She wore her auburn hair down, with two narrow braids framing her face.  A pair of wire-rimmed glasses encircled her eager eyes.   “I’m looking forward to—this is exciting—I think.”  Suddenly a little shy, Twiggy made a curtsy to the group and then dropped her hand into her pocket, which wriggled as if it were alive.

Rose next turned her attention to the three strangers, those from outside the di Raprezzi household.  She gestured first toward the youngest person in the room, a fifteen-year-old girl wearing finely made blue religious robes.  “Blessed Daughter Savina di Infusino – “

A man in his mid-twenties wearing two war hammers interrupted her.  He had spent her recital making notes in a small leather notepad.  “Perhaps I violate the etiquette of your beautiful city,” he said, his confident, foreign-accented voice seeming loud in the parlor, “but I would like to clarify immediately one or two smallish points.  You are telling me that a _goddess_ is out to get you?”

Rose looked startled, but maintained her gracious tone.  “This is our guide -- “

The man interrupted again with genial impatience.  “Yes, yes, Jan Kormick of Dar Und, a pleasure to meet you all.  I would like to return to my question about the _goddess of evil_, if you would be so kind.”

Tavi smirked. _Jan Kormick, legend of the Academy.  Every year the stories about his expulsion get grander.  I bet they’re still naming pranks after him today.  Guess he’s gotten all grown-up and respectable._

Respectable?  _Bo_-ring. 

Mena spoke up.  “We are not precisely certain what the Twilight Lurker wants with Rose.”

“Ah.”  Kormick tapped his pen on his pad as he squinted at Mena.  “So, in sum, you have retained me to guide these upstanding young noblepeople on a delightful vacation that involves the goddess of death, evil, and deceit in some as-yet unspecified way?”

“Indeed.”

Kormick nodded sagely, glanced back over his writing, and closed the book.  “Very well.  There is a reasonable chance that you charmingly naive youths will venture forth from this place and meet unnatural, bloody deaths.”  

The girl in the fine blue robes gasped.  “Is that true?” she whispered.

“I never lie,” Kormick declared cheerfully.  “But take heart, take heart,” he continued.  “There is also a reasonable chance that I may be wrong. “  He leaned to Marcus, muttering, “I usually am not wrong.”

Rose turned back to the young woman, who still looked pale.  “As I was saying:  this is the Blessed Daughter Savina di Infusino, daughter of one of Pol Henna’s oldest families and also an acolyte healer at the Temple of the Givers.”  

Savina glanced around the room, her eyes skipping off Kormick to linger on Tavi, her fingers shyly touching the Alirrian holy symbol on her necklace.  “I – I don’t really know why I’m here,” she stammered.  “I mean – what help could I possibly be?”

Rose gave her a strange, considering look.  “I asked the Givers to send the most innocent among them.  I thought her input might be useful.”  Silence fell.  Savina stared at Rose, wide-eyed.  Another note found its way into Kormick’s pad.  Tavi was amused to see them disconcerted: _It’s just smart planning, people,_ he thought.  _Who better to repel Sedellus than the sweetest Alirrian kid we can find?_

Rose glanced past Savina to the red-haired, plainly dressed woman in her late twenties standing silently behind her.  “I assume your slave can be trusted?”

“Yes, of course.  Her name is – um – Arden.”  Savina was still preoccupied by Rose’s pronouncement.

Kormick studied the slave closely.  “How long have you owned her?”

“She’s not one of my family’s – she belongs to the Temple.  The Honored Mother sent her to help take care of me . . . I hope that’s all right.” 

Kormick grunted skeptically, his eyes on the dull glint of a metal cuff that circled the slave’s left wrist, half-hidden by her cloak.  Arden’s gaze remained downcast, just as it had been through the entire conference:  keeping her place, not presuming to listen to the conversation of her betters.  Tavi put her out of his mind.  So did his sister.

“Thank you for accompanying me, Blessed Daughter,” Rose said.  “Thank you all.”

That’s everybody, there’s no one else, that’s it, race you to the door! 

_No, now we need to come up with a plan, Pheebs._. 

Phoebe came to a screeching halt two inches from Tavi’s right eye.  

WHAT?!


----------



## Jackylhunter

Good start!  Would it be possible to post some of the character details, without taking too much from the story?  I'm trying to figure out who/what Phoebe is.

Can't wait to read more.


----------



## Fajitas

Jackylhunter said:


> I'm trying to figure out who/what Phoebe is.
> 
> Can't wait to read more.




That's a perfectly good question, now that I think about it.  While _A Rose on the Wind_ is a 4th Ed game, certain critical elements of the world of the Halmae, well established in the previous campaign, are no longer present in 4th Ed.  

Like, say, familiars.

There's just no way that Lira's kids ain't gonna have familiars.

So arcane casters in the 4th Ed Halmae still have the option of having familiars, tho' they don't provide any in-game benefit.  They're just there for role-playing purposes.  So what is Phoebe? She's just flying, hyperactive flavor text.

Another major change in 4th Ed is the distinction between sorcerers and wizards.  This was a major element of the Halmae, which I wasn't gonna change just because the rules changed.  

The difference between sorcerers and wizards in the Halmae is now no-longer class based, but purely background based.  Wizards learn their powers while sorcerers are born to them, and the class a player chooses to represent that distinction with is irrelevant.  Thus, while Tavi's class is Swordmage, his background is that he was born with his sorcerous powers.  Same would be true if he'd chosen Wizard. Or Warlock.  Or, heck, even Fighter, if he'd wanted to push the skinning that far.

In fact, as a general rule, I've completely decoupled skin from stats.  Thus,  Arden uses the Hafling race as her racial stats, even though in game she's fully human.  She's merely slight, weak, and lucky.  Jan is also human, and a sorcerer to boot, but uses the Dragonborn class to represent this; the Dragonborn breath weapon power is skinned as part of his sorcery.

For those who are curious, the party line-up, in approximate order of rank is:

Tavi di Raprezzi: PC Swordmage
Roseanna di Raprezzi: NPC
Savina di Infusino: PC Cleric 
Dame Filomena: PC Warlord
Chelesta "Twiggy" Rossi: PC Wizard
Jan Kormick: PC Ranger
Arden (aka "Slave"): PC Rogue

There is also Marcus, who is, er, well, someone created him as part of the party but, due to that whole grown-up and breeding thing, hasn't actually managed to make it to a game yet.  We'll refer to him as Schroedinger's PC.  You're not sure if he's there or not unless you try to look at him.

Any other questions?

Also, thanks so much for all the kind words, everyone; I've been meaning to respond but have been really swamped.  It's good to be back.

_(And yes, Rughat, I was going back re-reading the old Story Hour when prepping the new campaign, and came across your prediction. It had already happened by the time I re-discovered it, but I laughed myself silly nonetheless.)_


----------



## beldar1215

I can't tell you how happy I am to see a new Halmae story hour. I subscribed to the last one and was sorry to see it go. I thought it was the best of the story hours that I had read!. I actually think I have it printed out somewhere. I may just have to go back a re-read it again. Keep the posts coming!!

Beldar


----------



## ellinor

Thanks, Beldar, and welcome!  

Actually, I'm remiss in welcoming everyone to our little venture.  So . . . welcome, all!  Hope we can live up to our lead-in!


----------



## coyote6

Awesome. I love the re-skinning thing.


----------



## Ilex

*1x02*

"Rose," said Tavi, wincing slightly as Phoebe thrummed insistently by his temple, "maybe we should discuss the plan."

Rose gestured to the group.  "That is a matter for you, really.  I know where I wish to go first, but I'll leave all the decisions on this journey up to you.  You will determine my path."

"An unorthodox way to go on a quest of self-discovery," observed Kormick, "but you're the client."

"I . . . don't understand," ventured Savina.

Rose shifted uncomfortably.  "I choose to rely on your judgment,” she said, “because I fear to trust my own.  There is a destiny upon me, and given who has placed it there, it is unlikely to be anything good.  If I make the decisions . . . I fear that may hasten an ending I would not wish on the rest of you.  I choose to seek my destiny because I can no longer bear to wait for it.  Beyond that, I would rely on you to make all other choices for me.”   She paused.  "As I said, however, I do have a suggestion for where to start.  During her travels, many years ago, my mother visited an oracle of Alirria at a spring deep in the Ketkath Mountains, somewhere near the Ironroot Mines.  I am hoping that, if we can find it, this oracle may offer the insight I seek."

"That's—that's very far away," said Savina.  

"Not just far,” added Twiggy. “It's in the Sovereignty of Kettenek. I've heard Dona Giovanna tell stories about the Sovereignty.  Those are _not_ nice people."  

“Distance is not a concern,” Rose explained.  "My family controls the teleport center here in Pol Henna.  If we can reach that place tonight, when it is deserted, we can teleport directly from here to the city of Lord's Edge, in the Sovereignty, saving ourselves at least that much of the journey."

"Excellent," said Kormick.  "And this teleport center is right next door and very easy for members of your family to operate, yes?"

"Not quite," Rose answered.  

Kormick sighed theatrically and raised both eyebrows, pen poised.  

"It isn't _very_ far," Rose explained, "though we won't be going through the best part of town . . . and we will have to avoid the guards long enough to activate the circle once we get there . . .”  

“Yes, of course, thugs and guards, thugs and guards.”  Kormick tapped his pen on his palm.  "Perhaps now would be an excellent time to review who else may try to stop us from enjoying this little jaunt," he continued, looking around expectantly.  "You," he said to Mena, “the frightening woman who hired me – won't your colleagues object to this young lady's departure?'

"The Church of Sedellus will not stand in our way," Mena stated.

"Anyone else?" demanded Kormick.  "Any other potential hiccups that it would be productive to consider in advance?"

“Our biggest problem,” Rose offered, “might be sneaking out of the house.  You see, I think my mother may suspect what I'm doing, and she is powerfully against my departure."

"To rephrase," Kormick said, "your rich and powerful sorcerer mother will pursue us relentlessly and stop us any way she can?"

Rose, Tavi, Mena, and Twiggy shared a collective look.  "Mother is pretty determined to keep Rose safe," Tavi conceded.  "And when she's determined to do something . . . "

At that, Savina cleared her throat politely.  "Um, we don't _all_ have to sneak out," she said.  "I think I'll leave with the rest of the party guests and wait for you outside."

 “Very well,” said Mena, her attention on the task at hand.  "We will also need a way to conceal Rose’s identity, at least until we get out of Pol Henna.  Too many people will recognize her by her hair.”

Twiggy jumped in.  “Perhaps there is magic we can use, or --”  

“There is this ingenious invention you may have heard of, called a hat,” Kormick said.  “That should be sufficient, provided we do not make a scene.  But let us also take steps to avoid being followed.  Pack for the desert, for Ebis.  That will set any followers off our track.”

"Please . . . do we have to be so sneaky?" asked Savina quietly.

This time, Kormick took a moment to hold her eyes with his own.  "Sneaking is how we avoid being caught by the young lady's magical mother," he explained. "And she is only the first danger.  There will be many more, and they will be worse.  You are going to find yourself . . . a little bit uncomfortable from time to time, yes?  For now, for secrecy, you must travel without relying on the power of your names.  Your wealth—well, let's be honest, your wealth in the world will still be extremely helpful—but you must each leave your family's reputation behind.  Now:  it's time to make preparations.  We'll meet here at midnight."

His words met with a shocked silence.

"But your family's reputation _is_ your wealth in the world!" blurted out Twiggy.  She looked to Rose, her eyes questioning.  Rose’s eyes returned Twiggy's uncertainty as she swallowed and reached out to squeeze Twiggy's hand.

Savina shifted her feet nervously in her delicate, embroidered slippers.  

Even Tavi crossed his arms in his impeccably tailored tunic, feeling a twinge of real unease for the first time.  His entire life had been defined by his role in his family.  _And that's not going to change,_ he reminded himself.  _My job is Rose._

CAN WE GO NOW, TAVI?  I HAVE BEEN VERY VERY VERY PATIENT!

Looking at them all, Kormick sighed.  "As I said,” he muttered to Marcus, “unnatural, bloody deaths." He stood up and flashed what was meant to be a hearty, encouraging grin.  "Enjoy the ball, my friends!"


----------



## Seonaid

I love Kormick!


----------



## ellinor

*1x03*

The hall glittered with celebration.  The crystal chandeliers sparkled, the parquet floors shone, and the marble balusters were positively reflective.  A long table of hors d’oeuvres stood at one end of the hall, attended to by a bustling – yet nearly invisible – battalion of servants, and the punch bowl seemed always to be full.  A string quartet played in the corner.  _Anyone _who was _anyone _was there.  In fact, a great many people were there who were not quite anyone, but who were just close enough to being someone that it would be unseemly to refuse them entrance.  The di Raprezzis were gracious hosts, and all of Pol Henna knew it.  

Dante and Giovanna di Raprezzi – Rose’s father and mother – presided over the event with grace.  They were a striking couple, not only for their beauty, but also for their confidence.  The di Raprezzi family’s trade relationships continued to bring them great wealth; their alliance with the di Vittanis (that is, Giovanna’s family) had given them great influence in the Pol Hennan council; and the di Raprezzi Academy for Arcane Studies, now in its fifteenth year of operation, attracted many of the best and most skilled sorcerous students from throughout the Peninsular Alliance and beyond.  As the couple mingled through the crowd, a weasel wound its way about Giovanna’s gem-green dress and under her red hair, settling over her shoulders like a stole.  If anyone thought it unusual – and few did – no one dared comment.

As Rose descended the stairway, Dante and Giovanna stopped to watch – Dante beaming with quiet pride, and Giovanna smiling with a gracious charm belied only by her restless, tired eyes.  But if Rose shared any of her mother’s concern, her looks did not betray it.  She was ready for what this night would bring.  First, the gala.  Then, whatever came next.  

To the trained eye, Twiggy – standing several steps behind Rose – might have seemed slightly less sanguine.  But then, anyone would seem less sanguine than Rose.  And few eyes would be trained on Twiggy.  Not when there was so much else going on.

  ###

Tavi knew the minute Rose entered the ballroom.  He always knew exactly where she was, like a sixth sense.  Maybe it was a sort of sixth sense, given his sorcerous abilities.  More likely, it had grown from the years of training, years of watching.  Years of being ready.

He watched Rose kiss first their father, then their mother on the cheeks.  _Mother’s going to kill us all if she catches us_, he thought. _Me especially, for letting Rose leave like this… Ah well._  He shrugged mentally.  He was Rose’s protector, even if he was protecting her from their own mother. 

“Good evening, Signor Tavi,” said a young lady, approaching Tavi from the side.  

It was Bianca di Angiuli, the daughter of one of the di Raprezzi family’s key allies on the Pol Hennan council.  “Good evening, Signora Bianca.”

Ooh! Ooh!  A new person!  Maybe she wants to dance!

She smiled, tipping her head coquettishly.  “I couldn’t help but notice how handsomely you are dressed tonight, Signor Tavi.”  

“Thank you.” Tavi kept an eye and a half on Rose.  “You look lovely as well.”

“You’re too kind,” she replied, with a slight curtsy.  “I would be honored,” she said, “and my father would be as well,” she added, “If Pol Henna’s most eligible bachelor would do me the honor of a dance.”

Tavi nodded distractedly.  “Yes, a dance, certainly.  A bit later?  I will find you.”  He wasn’t in a dancing mood, but politics and courtesy did have their demands.

No, dance now! Dance now! Phoebe flitted from one shoulder to another.

_There’ll be plenty of time for dancing, Phoebe.  Don’t worry._

A busy night? YESS!

Tavi kissed Bianca’s hand lightly as she returned to the crowd.

 ###

Mena scanned the hall, standing between Rose and the door, arms folded.  In her Defiers’ regalia, she was one of the few visibly armed individuals in the room.  But she was nearly always armed, and obviously dangerous even when she wasn’t.  

She scanned the hall again.  It was unlikely that anything . . . untoward was going to happen to Rose tonight.  Not during the ball, anyway.  Once they headed out, it was another story, but the ball should be relatively peaceful.  

Of course, that kind of lax thinking tended to get people killed.  

So she scanned the hall again.

As she did, she spotted Dame The Scourge moving towards her.  The Scourge was the leader of Pol Henna’s order of the Defiers of the Wind, and someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a _well-lit_ alley.  

“Dame Searing,” The Scourge began, referring to Mena by her formal name, “I am pleased to observe your attentiveness.”

“The Evil Bitch’s deeds may find us at any moment.”

“We listen for her always,” The Scourge replied.  “And even now, we have rooted out a nest of the Children of the Wind.”

“Progress.”

The Scourge nodded.  “And what of your charge?”

Mena paused.  “She is . . . extremely normal.”

The Scourge set her jaw.  “And that is strange enough.  I don’t know how you can stand it.  Staying cooped up in a place like this instead of riding out with us to frustrate the works of the Harlot of the Air.  You should be punishing evil, not . . . _teaching_.”  She spat the word out like a curse.

Mena kept scanning the room.  “Evil lurks in many places,” she said, “and must be fought on every front . . .” 

 ###

“Tavi!”  

Rose was by the punch bowl, exchanging a whispered word with Twiggy, when Tavi heard a voice call his name.

After she pushed her way past several people, Tavi could see that the voice came from Francesca di Turrini.  Her family was part of the “new money” voting bloc.  

She crossed her arms.  “Nice party.”

Tavi smiled and nodded.  “Thank you.”

“We should get married.”

Tavi coughed politely.  “Would . . . you like to dance?”

“No,” she replied. “Look, I don’t exactly swing your way, and you’ve got your own thing or whatever, but my mother has been on my back.  So you and me, heir and a spare, and we’ll call it quits and I can get back to my life and you can get back to yours.”

Tavi pursed his lips.  “I’ll . . . think about it. If you’ll excuse me…”

Tavi quickly made his way away from the scowling Francesca. _Midnight can’t come fast enough,_ he thought.

That’s what I say!

###

Savina stood near the wall, nursing a glass of punch.  Arden stood behind her and to the side, in the shadow of a curtain.

_Are they sure they meant to send me?_ Savina thought. _Surely it’s a mistake.  I know Rose said she wanted the most innocent among the Givers . . . but I’ve only just taken my orders! There’s so much I don’t know.  How can I be the most . . . anything?  And sneaking off like this? Against the wishes of Dona Giovanna di Raprezzi?  If we get caught, we could get into trouble.  To say nothing of all that travelling . . . I’ll have to make sure I pack a tent— _

Her revery was disturbed by the approach of a older noble gentleman, his gray temples a stark contrast against his black outfit.  He gave a distinguished nod.  “Signora Savina.”

Savina curtsied, recognizing him as Vittorio di Avanzo, the leader of the largest minority Council faction . . . the faction that had been the majority until Dona Giovanna’s family had replaced them.  “Signor Vittorio.”

“I would like to be the first to congratulate you,” he began, “on your sixteenth birthday.”

Savina blushed.  “Yes, in one month . . . ”

“I need hardly point out that you will be of marriageable age that day.  And that I, myself, am recently widowed . . .”

Savina’s eyes widened.  “I . . . that is . . ."

”There is great benefit that might come of an alliance between our houses.   Your family has remained neutral in the factional politics of the Council.  A noble sentiment, I’m sure, but it has long kept you from the heights of power a family as distinguished as yours demands.  But, with your family’s vote joined to our faction, we would have enough votes on the Council to—”

“My father is the politician,” she demurred.  “I do not have experience in. . .”

Vittorio grasped Savina by the wrist.  “I recommend you consult with your father, then,” he said, through clenched teeth.  “Things in Pol Henna will change, I assure you, and when they do, friends will be remembered.”

He had barely time to hiss out the words before Arden approached, protectively.  “Blessed Daughter?  Forgive me, an urgent matter requires your attention.”

Vittorio did not even look to see who the voice came from.  “My lady,” he said, “we are occupied.”  

Arden lowered her head.  “I beg your pardon, m’lord, but I am no lady.”

Vittorio turned in confusion, finally realizing it was a slave who had addressed him. He recoiled at discovering his inadvertent show of respect . . . but he did release Savina’s wrist.   “Pray, speak with your father,” he whispered. “I will be in touch.”  

A pair of dancers twirled by as he strode away.

Savina shuddered.

 ###

Dame Mena was introducing Rose to one of the Harbingers when Vincente di Ginola, holding the hand of his 8-year old daughter Donatella, approached Tavi.  Vincente gave a shallow bow.  Donatella squirmed.  

“Signor Tavi,” Vincente began, “I would like to discuss a subject of mutual interest.”  A smile twitched on his lips.

Tavi nodded politely, as courtesy dictated.  “Indeed, Signor Vincente. How may I help you?”

“It is common knowledge that while you have received several offers of marriage, your parents have so far declined to accept any of them.  I understand that you and your family have certain . . . priorities in this area,” he continued, “and I believe that my Donatella may prove . . . attractive as a bride.”

Tavi blinked.

Vincente nudged his daughter.  “Show him, Donnie.”

“Da_aaa_d!”

“_Just like we practiced,_” he hissed.

Donatella frowned, slumped her shoulders, and waved with her right hand.  One, two, three, four, five little flames popped out from the tips of her fingers.  

Vincente, beaming with pride, raised an eyebrow to Tavi.  “Naturally, the wedding itself could be delayed.”

Tavi blinked. Then he blinked again. He blinked once more, just to be sure.

“As you know,” Tavi began, slowly, “as head of the family, my grandmother has the final word on the matter of my marriage.  I’d have to consult with her—”

But a sudden commotion at the far end of the hall caught his attention.  His eyes whipped first to Rose.  Satisfied that she was perfectly safe, standing as she was within a few feet of Dame Mena, his eyes whipped back towards the commotion.

Jan Kormick had entered the room.

Dressed in the robes of a Justicar.


----------



## doghead

I love this game. 

I swear, one day I am going to get myself over to America just so I can gatecrash a session. Saving the pennies even as we speak.

doghead
aka thotd


----------



## Seonaid

doghead said:


> I love this game.
> 
> I swear, one day I am going to get myself over to America just so I can gatecrash a session. Saving the pennies even as we speak.
> 
> doghead
> aka thotd



Hooray! Tell me when and I'll be there too.


----------



## Jenber

This story hour makes me so happy.


----------



## Ilex

*Quiz Time!*

Match the player to the character:

PLAYERS
WisdomLikeSilence (who once played Reyu)
jonrog1
Thatch (who once played ... duh)
Jenber
Ilex
ellinor

CHARACTERS
Tavi
Savina
Mena
Twiggy
Kormick
Arden

And for fabulous bonus points...  Who will Lira's player, Spyscribe, play when she is able to join the campaign next month?  (Hint:  This question defies Kettenek's Justice because we have no idea what the answer is.)


----------



## Rughat

I'm only going to make three guesses:

Tavi = Thatch.  Simply because of the nonplussed reaction to the wedding proposals.

Kormick = jonrog1.  The dialog fits his blog and he's a smartass.

Arden = WisdomLikeSilence.  The silent wisdom/power vibe I get from Arden matches Reyu somehow.  

I can't get a good enough read on the other characters, and I don't know the new players yet.

(PS: loving the story hour.  I'm so happy to have some more Halmae.)


----------



## spyscribe

Ilex said:


> And for fabulous bonus points...  Who will Lira's player, Spyscribe, play when she is able to join the campaign next month?




Ooo!  Ooo!  I know!  I know!  I want my fabulous bonus points!


----------



## Ilex

Rughat gets a solid two points!  Correct on Tavi and Kormick.  Incorrect on Arden, but the relevant players have agreed that it's a smart guess nonetheless.

And spyscribe, sure, you _may_ know the answer to the fabulous bonus question, just as I _may_ know the secrets of unified field theory, but I demand proof of your knowledge before any points shall be awarded.


----------



## ellinor

*1x04*

It was a considerable understatement to say that as Jan Kormick strode into the hall, his stark white robes were conspicuous.  Even more conspicuous were the two warhammers he wore by his side.  But most conspicuous of all was the enormous silver holy symbol around his neck:  the symbol of the Justicars.  The hall became noticeably quieter as several partygoers stopped to stare.  

Kormick picked up a canapé and poured himself a glass of punch.  

After some time, a woman in a black robe and a silver clasp in the shape of a Justicar’s symbol approached Kormick, penetrating the ring of empty space that had formed around him.

“I am Intransigent the Just di Vitanni”, said the woman.  

“Aah, Kettenek’s justice be upon you, brother*,” said Kormick, his mouth still half full of canapé.

“And upon you,” she nodded.  “And how are you known?”

Kormick took a slug of punch.  “They call me Kormick the Compromiser.” 

“Kormick the Com. . .” Intransigent looked lost.  “I am afraid I do not understand.”

“Aah, there is much not to understand, my friend,” said Kormick.  “You see, I am here on a brief visit from Dar Und.  Justice is new to Dar Und, and we are still only learning the ways of Kettenek.  Our justice is as a flower, growing from rock.”

Intransigent squinted.  “A what?  Doing what?”

“You know the way a seed can find its way into a seemingly barren crag of rock and sprout forth with life? It takes advantage of the tiny crevices where the rock doesn’t hold together well and flourishes there.  Such is the growth of Justice in Dar Und.  Sometimes the pressure of the expanding roots can even split the rock asunder.”

Intransigent gaped at Kormick. “Church dogma,” she said, “holds that *Justice* is a rock.”

Kormick shrugged. “Kormick the Compromiser, you see?”

Intransigent tipped her head.  “I do not wonder why brothers Rigid the Just and Feldspar the Just wished to leave their posts in Dar Und.”

“Yes, Rigid and Feldspar.  Good men, good men,” Kormick replied.  “But they really don’t understand Dar Und . . . ”

###

Tavi jumped slightly as a hand draped over his neck and shoulders and voice like velvet appeared near his ear.  “Hi, Tavi.”

Rose was only a few feet away, chatting amiably with a group of their peers from the other noble houses.  

The hand on Tavi’s shoulder belonged to Dianora di Infusino, Savina’s older sister.  The arm attached to it belonged to her, too, as did the *truly* impressive amount of décolletage she was displaying. 

She swung around to face him, leaving one hand by his ear.  “It’s good to see you.  You know, we haven’t seen nearly enough of each other lately.”  She tossed her hair gently.  “Really.  I mean, you and I, Pol Henna’s two most _eligible_ singles, and we haven’t even had so much as a picnic.”

Tavi forced his eyes up to her face.  “That’s true . . . ” he managed, as non-committally as he could.

“What do you say, after this lovely affair quiets down, we find a nice place to visit?”  She suggested.  “After all,” she added “one does not buy fruit at market without sampling it first; it wouldn’t make sense to take a different approach to marriage, would it?”

Tavi swallowed surreptitiously.  “I . . . can’t say I had ever thought about it in quite that way.” 

She smiled at him and sashayed away with a sidelong nod, trailing one hand along Tavi’s left arm.

Phoebe plunked herself down on Tavi’s wrist.  _Bored now_.

###

As Twiggy paused to clean her glasses, a small brown mouse poked its nose up from its hiding place in her bosom.  It is _very_ loud in here, it thought at her.

_Yes, Acorn, it is.  Best stay down where it’s quieter._

Acorn poked up again, briefly.  And who is going to clean up all of this mess?  Look!  There is mud over there, and empty cups there, and crumbs _everywhere_. Don’t these people realize we have to live here? 

_The servants will have a late night tonight. And we will, too.  You should be sure to rest up. _

All right, Chelesta, he said, using Twiggy’s given name.  But I don’t know how anyone could be expected to rest with all this noise . . . 

Their internal dialog was interrupted by the approach of an imposing man, whom Twiggy recognized as Rose’s uncle (Giovanna’s brother), Marco di Vittani.  

He sneered.  “You.  Halfbreed.”

“Signor di Vittani,” Twiggy replied, “are you speaking to me?”

“Who else would I be speaking to? Your rat?”  

I’m not a rat!

_I know, Acorn—_

Chelesta, tell him I am _not_ a rat.

_Not now, Acorn—_

Marco stepped in closer to Twiggy, close enough for her to smell the wine on his breath.  “I know your secret,” he whispered to her.

Twiggy’s stomach clenched.  But rather than let it show, she put on an airy smile and breezily said, “Oh, do you?” 

Marco was taken aback.  Whatever reaction he’d been expecting, that wasn’t it.  “Wh . . . yes.  And I wouldn’t be so cavalier about it if I were you.”

Twiggy tipped her head.  “Signor di Vittani, I’m quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.  And I can’t imagine what you could want from me.”

“What I want?”  Marco humphed.  “It’s more like what *you* want, if you want your precious di Raprezzi family to stay in power.”  He paused.  “I’m not stupid, you know.”

In point of fact, Marco di Vittani was infamously stupid; Twiggy, fortunately, knew better than to bring that up.   “I would never dream of suggesting that you were.”  

“Well,” Marco insisted, “you’d better watch yourself.  Because I can hurt you any time I want.”  He stepped even closer to Twiggy, sneering down at her.  “Funny. I didn’t think your father had the stomach to give it to a pointy-ear. But then, I guess he can stomach giving it to my sister . . . ” He turned on his heel and stalked off.

Twiggy stared after him as he left.

Chelesta, I think he thinks that Dante is your father, Acorn said.

_I think so too, Acorn._

But that’s not your secret.  It isn’t even true.

Twiggy smiled.  _I know, Acorn.  I know . . ._

###

Not one to break his word, Tavi crossed the floor to find Bianca for her promised dance, but his aunt, Mariela di Raprezzi (Dante’s sister) stopped him, not too far from where Rose stood talking to Twiggy.    

“Tavi!  If you have a moment, I want to chat with you.”

Tavi stopped.  Oh, come ON! It’s almost like so much keeps happening, we’re never gonna get to DO anything.

“Tavi,” Mariela continued, putting her arm around him, “I’d like you to consider marrying my daughter Mercedes . . .”

_Oh, gods no . . ._ Tavi thought.

“I’m sure you can see why it would be a good match.  It would put an end to all the pressure on you to find a bride, it will surely be good for you children’s arcane powers, and – I have to be honest – I really would like to see Mercedes gain some more status in the family. And we already know that . . .”

Acorn had been eavesdropping.  He looked up at Twiggy, whiskers twitching. Did you hear that?  _She_ wants _him_ to marry . . .

So had Twiggy.  _Yes, Acorn.  Although it should not be so much of a surprise.  The family has a long tradition of marrying inside, to maintain arcane strength, and secrecy.  It’s only recently that . . . ooh, listen._

Tavi replied.  “You know as well as anyone that any decisions about my marrying will be made by your mother.”

“I do.”  Mariela patted him on the shoulder.  “But a gentle suggestion from you wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Um . . .” Tavi began to excuse himself, just in time to see Bianca walk out the door.  The party was beginning to wind down.

Darn it!  Now we’re never even going to get a chance to dance, Phoebe thought.

Tavi smiled to himself. _Don’t worry, Pheebs. That just means that the real excitement is about to get started…”_



_* “Brother” is, of course, the correct form of address for any Justicar, male or female.  Members of any sects devoted to the male gods (Kettenek and Ehkt) are addressed by male pronouns, regardless of actual gender, just as members of any sect devoted to the female gods (Alirria and Sedellus) are addressed by female pronouns. _


----------



## ellinor

*1x05*

Midnight.  

Savina and Arden sat huddled just outside the wall of the di Raprezzi estate, a long rope coiled by Arden’s feet.  It was going to be a long, silent wait.

Inside, Mena arrived in the drawing room to find Kormick waiting, leaning against a bookcase and flipping through his leather notepad.  Tavi, Rose, and Twiggy followed shortly thereafter, having traded ball gowns and boutonnieres for boots and bedrolls.  

The group looked at Rose, waiting for a cue.  She opened her palms in invitation.  “I am in your hands.”

_Well,_ Twiggy thought, _I guess she really means it about us making all the decisions._

“Ho-kay, then, we begin.”  Kormick flipped his pad closed with a _snap_.  “Step one:  sneak out of house without alerting Dona Giovanna, Signora Rose’s wary and extraordinarily skilled mother.  Step two:  travel through bustling town without being identified.  Step three:  break into magically-alarmed teleport center.  Step four:  teleport to Sovereignty before guards seize and imprison us all.  Couldn’t be easier.  What are we waiting for?”

Phoebe flew eager circles around Tavi's head.  Acorn scrunched himself further into Twiggy's pocket.  Did he say imprison us all?  I don't want to go go to prison!  Prison is for bad people!  There are probably rats in pri--

_Don't worry, Acorn, we'll be fine,_ Twiggy thought, almost convincing herself.

Tavi opened the door a crack and peeked out.  “We’re clear.”  He waved for the others to follow.  But it only took two steps out into the hall to know it would not be that easy.   A faint scuffling sound came from down the hall.  Then Tavi saw all he needed to:  the flick of a fuzzy tail and the glint of a tiny eye.

Euro.

What Euro knew, Dona Giovanna knew.  And as far as Dona Giovanna was concerned, Rose was to be tucked up safe in her bed, and not at all sneaking out of the house.  And not even a little bit headed to the Sovereignty on a crazy escapade.  Tavi and Twiggy were supposed to keep Rose home and safe, and Euro knew that.  So if they wanted to get out of that house, they were going to have to steer clear of Euro.  Tavi stepped back into the drawing room and pulled the door shut.  “We have a complication.  A small, brown, fuzzy complication.” 

Twiggy looked at Rose, and then at Tavi.  No one else was going to speak up; she might as well.  “We still need to get out of here.  We just need a better way out.“  She paused.  _What, exactly, is the best way to tell your Mistress and her brother and their tutor that you know something better than they do? _ “I think it is fair to say that there is no one in the world who knows this house better than I do,” she said.  “So . . . follow me.”

Twiggy leaned on the bookshelf behind her, which pivoted with a soft _swish_.  A guest room stood on the other side.  “This way,” she motioned.  The group tiptoed behind.  

From there, a connecting door led to a servant’s room.  Twiggy peeked in.  Unoccupied.  Next, they could take the servants’ stairs down to . . . no.  Mama Rossi would still be up and about in the kitchen, and so would the scullery maids, ready to raise the alarm.  They were going to have to stick to the upstairs.

_When I was six,_ Twiggy thought, _exploring the ins and outs of the house was the biggest adventure there was.  Now, it’s the only thing standing between me and a bigger adventure than I can even imagine.  And the only thing standing between Rose and her future._  She motioned for the others to wait, and dashed out into the hallway, sliding into a broom closet.  “Clear!”  She whispered, pointing down the hallway and up the side stair.

The group rushed down the hall and up the stairs, aware of every clink and shuffle from their packs.  Someone was bound to hear them.  

Sure enough, as Mena reached the top of the stairs, she spotted Euro, around the corner to the right, at the far end of the hall.  “We’ve got company,” she whispered, her back flat against the wall.

The grandfather clock at the other end of the hall chimed one.  It didn’t usually sound so ominous.

Euro was faster than they were.  It was going to be a mad dash.  

Marcus gave Tavi a serious look.  “Sir . . . I believe can distract the weasel,” he whispered.  “I’ll divert its attention.  You go on ahead.”

Tavi shook his head.  “You are the captain of the guard, and a strong fighter.  We may need that for whatever we face out there.”

“You won’t face anything at all, if you don’t make it out,” Marcus whispered in reply.  “If anyone asks, I can say I tried to stop you.  I can even give misleading information about where I think you went.”

Twiggy knew the sacrifice Marcus was making.  It might mean the end of his career.  She knew Tavi knew it, too, and that they had no choice.  Tavi clapped his captain on the shoulder in silent assent.  “You’re a good man, Marcus.”

Marcus ran up the stairs and turned right, out of sight.  Euro followed.

When reached the top of the stairs, she turned left and kept on running.  The rest of the group followed Twiggy, straight toward the end of the hall, straight toward the clock, straight toward a dead end . . . and Twiggy touched the side of the clock and it slid to the side, revealing a narrow passage.  They piled in.  When Twiggy shut the passage door, she could hear Euro’s claws scratching toward the clock.  Marcus had given them just the seconds they’d needed.  _That was close,_ she thought, gulping for breath.  

“Keep moving,” Mena whispered insistently, pulling Twiggy from her reverie.  “We don’t have much of a head start.”

The passage was dark, but light might have betrayed them.  They felt their way down a steep set of stairs, to a narrow passage, cold and damp.  After a while, the ground sloped up, up . . . and emerged under a shallow shelter near the wall of the di Raprezzi estate, not far from Savina and Arden.  

Kormick gave a low whistle, and Arden appeared at the top of the wall, rope in hand.

_Wow_, Twiggy thought, _how can she climb that fast?  Impressive._

One by one, the party scrambled over the wall.  Kormick stood atop it, pulling each member up the rope, until only Twiggy was left on the ground.  Kormick offered Twiggy a boost.  “Young lady?”

Twiggy looked at Kormick for a moment, and tilted her head.  _Ready, Acorn?_

Ready for what?  No!  Not ready!  Wha--?

Twiggy disappeared, instantly reappearing on the other side of the wall with a giant grin on her face.

Kormick clambered down the wall, muttering and scribbling in his book.  “Thing number one hundred and ninety seven that you must warn your guide about ahead of time.  The servant girl is a sorcerer.  Humph.”

###

All was dark and quiet as the group stepped from the bushes on to a tree-lined boulevard.  They walked in silence for a long while, taking advantage of the nighttime quiet in Pol Henna’s tree-lined wealthy areas.  But eventually, the parks became smaller, the streets narrower, and the sidewalks more populated.  Ahead were the crowded and cramped back streets of one of the seedier parts of town. 

Tavi pulled the group aside.  “Around this corner, there will be people.  We cannot be noticed or recognized; our mother may already have sent people after us, and will certainly send more in the morning to look for our trail.”  He tugged Rose’s hood further over her head, protectively, and put his arm around her shoulder.  “Rose and Twiggy, you’re with me.  You three,” he said, motioning to Mena, Kormick, and Savina, “will just be three clerics passing in the night.”  

Arden looked up, silent.  Kormick looked at Tavi and gestured to Arden with his thumb.  “Take that one, too.”  Arden stepped over toward Tavi.

The next street didn’t exactly bustle, but Tavi’s warning was well-taken.  Torches burned, casting a dim glow across the cobblestones, and commerce still glowed in the windows of several taverns.  The alleys shuffled with soft, unknown noises.  A handful of people passed, appearing more interested in avoiding notice than in noticing four fellow-carousers or three quiet clerics.

Light burst on to the narrow street as a tavern door opened just in front of Tavi, and a man stumbled out.  Several others piled after him, shouting incomprehensibly but with great emotion.  The man tripped, unsteady.  Tavi stepped to the side, avoiding his fall by inches.

The man rose to his feet and turned away, focused more on his pursuers than on Tavi.  “You can’t kick me out!” He slurred, swinging wildly at his pursuers.  “I happen to know the Doge’s brother!”

Twiggy stiffened.  The Doge was Dona Giovanna’s brother; this man claimed to know someone in her family.  Was he talking about that nasty man Marco?  Was he bluffing? 

From the other side of the street, Savina peeked at the activity.  _Tavi!_ she thought, first concerned and then impressed by his agility as he side-stepped the scuffle.  Behind Tavi, a fist fight broke out.  Punches flew, until the inebriated tavern-goer lay on the ground, moaning.  The stranger was bruised, and his brow bled.  Savina, on instinct, turned to walk toward him.

Kormick touched her on the shoulder.  “Where exactly do you think you are going?”  

“That man is hurt,” Savina pointed out, “and I am going to heal him.”

“No, Blessed Daughter, you are not going to help the very drunk very stupid man, and you are not going to get us all discovered and followed and dragged back in chains.  You are going to keep walking.”

“But . . .”

Mena and Kormick shared a glance, and each put a strong arm around Savina, forcing her toward the end of the street.

All six of them turned the corner on to another street, lined with businesses shuttered for the night.  There, two blocks down, stood the teleport center.

###

As Tavi pushed open the door of the teleport center, an alarm screamed.  _Who needs guards or locks, when there are magical alarms?_  Twiggy thought.

“They’ll be here soon, so we don’t have much time,” Tavi began, calm and confident, “but we have a lot to do.”  For once, Phoebe hovered almost still, just over Tavi’s shoulder.   “Do whatever you can to keep the guards out.”

Kormick pulled a bench over to the front door, jamming it up to the doorframe.  Mena pushed a table against the door in the back and broke the handle off the back door.  Arden pushed stones into the latches of windows and doors.  

Wordlessly, Tavi and Twiggy pulled materials from their packs—ritual components for the teleport circle.  “Rose!”  Tavi called, “we need six finch feathers!”  

“And six cornflowers,” Twiggy said, softly, to Savina.  

Tavi began setting items in a careful circle.  Candles.  Herbs.  Bits of wool.  Stones.  Twiggy followed him, lighting candles.  _Did he mean to put the thyme next to the shale?_  She moved the shale.  They really needed those flowers and feathers.

There were voices outside, down the street.  “This way!  I see light inside!”

Rose and Savina scrambled through the drawers of the apothecary cabinet.  This one had dried lizards.  That one had ribbons.  The floor was strewn with drawers and bits of plant and fuzz when they spotted their quarries:  finch feathers.  Cornflowers.   They ran to the circle, and Tavi and Twiggy gingerly fit the items in their respective spots.

The doors shook as guards banged on them from outside.  “We have set the circle to appear as if we are going to Pol Thane,” said Tavi, “but that means making a longer incantation.  Everyone, get in the circle.”

Each of them ran in.  Tavi began to chant.  Thumps and clangs came from outside.  A window broke.  Tavi continued to chant.

Twiggy thought.  _Soon, Acorn, we’ll be as far from home as we can be.  All the way across the Halmae._

Acorn’s whiskers twitched.  Well, I hope the people there will be well civilized.  Did you see those men at the tavern?  They were positively *violent*—

The door flew open.  Guards rushed in.

The ring on the floor glowed.

There was a bright flash of light.


----------



## Piratecat

spyscribe said:


> Ooo!  Ooo!  I know!  I know!  I want my fabulous bonus points!



I think that'd be cheating.


----------



## Seonaid

Teehee. Acorn and Kormick are my favorites!


----------



## Rughat

ellinor said:


> Marcus gave Tavi a serious look. “Sir . . . I believe can distract the weasel,” he whispered. “I’ll divert its attention. You go on ahead.”




Brave man.  Selflessly risking the wrath of the weasel for his companions.  He will be remembered for his valor.

Seriously, my brain got sprained trying to think of Euro as ominous.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

I doubt it will matter where they're going, at least for a while, but I was a little curious about some of the family relations.  I assume that "Intransigent the Just di Vitanni" is related to Giovanna (and thus to Rose and Tavi) somehow.  Is she another sibling besides Marco?  A niece or aunt?  A more distant relation?

Just trying to keep track of the family trees, because it seems like it might be relevant later.


----------



## jonrog1

Cerebral Paladin said:


> Just trying to keep track of the family trees, because it seems like it might be relevant later.




You think _you're_ confused.  One of the reasons I decided to play an "outsider" character in the campaign was that I looked at that incredibly detailed and well-designed multi-faction family tree and thought  "I ... am lost.  Like all good Method disciples, I will use that."

Now, what's interesting here is that although I tend to be more of a pulp roleplayer, the tone and detail of the campaign is definitely addictive.  Last session I wound up having a chat with Fajitas about Kormick's evolving religious issues and something that can only be described as 'transference.'  One of the reasons it's always fun to change it up in play styles/DM's,


----------



## Seonaid

Rughat said:


> Seriously, my brain got sprained trying to think of Euro as ominous.



Dude (dudette?), weasels are NASTY when provoked!







jonrog1 said:


> incredibly detailed and well-designed multi-faction family tree



Sounds like we need a graphic! 


> One of the reasons it's always fun to change it up in play styles/DM's,



Is that the end of that post?


----------



## Fajitas

Cerebral Paladin said:


> ...I was a little curious about some of the family relations.  I assume that "Intransigent the Just di Vitanni" is related to Giovanna (and thus to Rose and Tavi) somehow.  Is she another sibling besides Marco?  A niece or aunt?  A more distant relation?




I'd just like you to remember: you asked for this...

Families and social structure are, unsurprisingly, very important in Pol Henna.  And, since we had an entire multi-story adventure set there (back when it was Dar Henna) in the old campaign, centered around Lira/Giovanna's family and her arranged marriage, we developed this material pretty deeply.

The oldest child of the head of the house (be they male or female) is in line to take over the house.  Younger children tend to do one of three things:

1) They serve the head of the house in some capacity (a sort  of consigliari role, but without the criminal overtones)

2) They enter one of the many clergies to serve the city on behalf of the house (Pol Henna has a lengthy history of public largesse.  A noble house is seen as week and venal if they don't contribute to the good of the city.  This is largely why Hennan Justicars keep their family names--to show that their family is involved).

3) They get married off into another family as part of a political alliance.  When this happens, the non-blooded spouse (be they male or female) takes the family name of the blooded spouse, and is, to all intents and purposes, part of the new family now.

So, with that in mind, Giovanna is the youngest of four siblings, and the only girl. Her three eldest brothers are half brothers from her father Niccolo's first marriage.  Only Marco is her full blooded brother.  

Her brothers are:

*Paulo di Vittani*- (~20 years older) The current Doge of Pol Henna.  Technically the head of the di Vittani household, but his duties as Doge (and the necessary propriety of being Doge) prevent him from handling the day-to-day affairs of the household.  Married to Agnessa Christina Rioro di Vittani, formerly of the di Rioro family (an allied family on the council).  They have several adult children.

*Rizardo di Vittani*- (~18 years older) Current functional head of the di Vittani family.  Rizardo spent many years serving in the Hennan merchant marine fleet.  He is married to Sophia Anna di Vittani, a minor source of embarrassment as she is a commoner and not a member of a noble house. Rizardo is, and was always, Lira/Giovanna's favorite brother.  They have three children.

*Pascal Vittani di Contini*- (~15 years older) Generally considered the lay-about wastrel of the family, Pascal was married off into the di Contini family, where he is now a wastrel.  His wife is Pauletta Tamara di Contini.  The di Contini family is not on the Council, but they have close historical ties with the di Vittanis.  They have several children, but they are di Continis.

*Marco di Vittani*- (~4 years older) Idiot and thug.  Marco works for Paulo as a blunt instrument in the running of the di Vittani household.  He is married to Serena Celestina Angiuli di Vittani, a vacuous child formerly of the di Angiuli family (also a Council ally).  Serena, for the record, spent an entire meal once while Marco was in jail in Dar Pykos (long story) hitting on Thatch and making everyone really uncomfortable.  They have a passel of idiotic, thuggish children.  No one speculates on whether or not they are actually Marco's if he's anywhere in hearing range.

*Giovanna Niccolira Pauletta Rufina Pulcer Marie Allessandra Vittani di Raprezzi*- Lira/Giovanna, of course.  She was ultimately married off into the di Raprezzi family to Dante, part of an alliance that not only helped bring the di Raprezzi family onto the Council, but helped create the voting bloc that made Paulo Doge.  

_(ASIDE: Dante is the oldest child of the di Raprezzi household. He will become head of the house when his mother, Simona, dies or steps down.  Dante and Giovanna's eldest child, Diego (Tavi and Rose's elder brother) will be Dante's successor, etc.  Dante has two sisters, Mariela (who accosted Tavi on behalf of her daughter Mercedes), and Fiorenza, who spends much of her time traveling as a factor for the di Raprezzi trading interests.

The di Raprezzis, for the record, are all sorcerers and have been (in secret) for generations, due to pretty stringent selective breeding habits.  Up until now, they haven't been marrying children out of the family, but now that they are a) openly sorcerous, and b) finally a major house on the Council, there is speculation in many social circles that either Tavi or Roseanna may be married out of the family to form alliances.)_

Let me tell you what an unbelievable trip it was when Lira/Giovanna finally returned to Dar Henna with the rest of the party, and I had to run the dinner scene wherein the ENTIRE di VITTANI FAMILY (including Lira/Giovanna's mother and father) was at the dinner table with the PCs.

Good times.

All of which is a very round-about of actually saying that Intransigent the Just di Vittani is actually Giovanna's aunt, one of Niccolo's sisters.

As I said, you did ask...


----------



## Fajitas

jonrog1 said:


> Now, what's interesting here is that although I tend to be more of a pulp roleplayer, the tone and detail of the campaign is definitely addictive.  Last session I wound up having a chat with Fajitas about Kormick's evolving religious issues and something that can only be described as 'transference.'  One of the reasons it's always fun to change it up in play styles/DM's,




I'll take that as high praise. 

It is perhaps telling that the single most exciting roll of a natural 20 that has yet occurred in the game was rolled by jonrog--on a Religion check.  Seriously, I've seen campaign-long villains defeated on a roll of a natural 20 without producing quite that big a reaction.

It's been a lot of fun having jonrog in the game.  His style is... well, pretty staggeringly different than what we're used to.  But over time, we've borrowed a little of his and he's borrowed a little of ours, and it's made for a fun, rich experience overall.


----------



## spyscribe

Fajitas said:


> Let me tell you what an unbelievable trip it was when Lira/Giovanna finally returned to Dar Henna with the rest of the party, and I had to run the dinner scene wherein the ENTIRE di VITTANI FAMILY (including Lira/Giovanna's mother and father) was at the dinner table with the PCs.




And what Fajitas doesn't mention is that he did it _twice_ because we roleplayed the _second_ incredibly awkward formal family dinner after Marco got back.  Amazingly, Marco managed to not slug anyone - especially his sister - in the face.

And by the way, bless you for asking Cerebral Paladin.  I have been sitting on some of this stuff with Fajitas since 2002.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Fajitas said:


> I'd just like you to remember: you asked for this...
> 
> . . .
> 
> As I said, you did ask...




And are you surprised that I found that all interesting and have a follow-up question? 

So, is the expectation that Paolo's eldest will become doge and his second eldest the functional head of the di Vittani someday, assuming the di Vittani's can maintain their faction?  I take it that the doge is an elected monarch chosen from and by the Council, but I'm curious how that plays out with the intra-family succession issues.  Alternately, of course, Rizardo could be seeking to set up his eldest child to succeed him as the head of the family, which would, I take it, leave Paolo's children as a cadet branch in a way similar to what is expected to happen to Marco's children-- they are di Vittanis, but they are not The di Vittanis.  Not that I ask because that's the sort of intriguey plot that I love or anything...


----------



## Fajitas

Cerebral Paladin said:


> So, is the expectation that Paolo's eldest will become doge and his second eldest the functional head of the di Vittani someday, assuming the di Vittani's can maintain their faction?




You are correct in your assumption that the Doge is elected by and from the Council.  However, seniority matters a lot.  Paulo will be ousted as Doge either by losing an election (which he is unlikely to lose to a friendly challenger), or when he voluntarily steps down.  At that point, even if he wants his eldest to succeed him, his eldest will be a newcomer to the Council.  The next most senior member of their voting bloc will most likely be put forth as the new Doge candidate.

Paulo is an interesting case, in that even while Niccolo was the head of the family, he had Paulo hold the Council seat.  Niccolo, despite his views on arcane magic, was extremely civic minded, and wanted his son to have as much experience as he could get, all the better to someday lead himself.

Thus, Paulo had more seniority than he might otherwise have had on the Council.

As far as Rizardo setting up his own children to take over the house... that wouldn't happen for a couple of reasons.  One, it's not in Rizardo's character.  He's not really into the whole political game.  But two, and perhaps more importantly, it wouldnt' happen because once I sat down and did the math, I realized that Paulo's eldest is now in his/her late 30s or 40s and is clearly old enough to be running the house themselves.  

These are the sorts of details that sometimes slip through the cracks when you jump your whole gameworld ahead a generation...


----------



## Seonaid

Fajitas said:


> When this happens, the non-blooded spouse (be they male or female) takes the family name of the blooded spouse, and is, to all intents and purposes, part of the new family now.



Okay, I'm feeling dumb. How do you (they) know which person takes the new name? If it's not a male/female thing, which person is marrying into which family? Obviously if it's a commoner, the commoner is marrying into the noble family, but if it's two families on equal footing, who takes whose name?

Also, do commoners follow these "rules" (as best they can, considering their positions)?


----------



## Fajitas

Seonaid said:


> Okay, I'm feeling dumb. How do you (they) know which person takes the new name? If it's not a male/female thing, which person is marrying into which family?




Typically, who is marrying into which family is decided at the time the marriage contract is created.  When Paulo's marriage was arranged, since he was destined to head the family, they brought in a wife for him.  Pascal, on the other hand, had no particular use to the di Vittanis, so he was given away.  Giovanna was someone the di Raprezzis explicitly wanted in their family, because of her sorcerous powers.

In practice, it's very similar to the historical notion of "giving away one's daughter"; it just applies to sons as well, and everybody agrees in advance which way it goes. 

Yet another example of the aggressively gender-neutral policies we strive to adhere to here in the Halmae. 

Dowrys, by the way, are paid *to* whichever family is giving up the child.  Thus the di Vittanis got a huge sum of money when they married off Giovanna (a non-trivial plot point at the time).


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Do widows and widowers remain in their new family, or do they go back to their original families?  Is divorce possible, and does it result in returning to the original family?

Sorry for continuing the thread tangent, but...


----------



## Fajitas

Cerebral Paladin said:


> Do widows and widowers remain in their new family, or do they go back to their original families?  Is divorce possible, and does it result in returning to the original family?




For widows and widowers, it varies from case to case.  Younger widows or widowers without children typically return to their old families (and the dowry is repaid).  If there are children in the picture, the children would have to stay with the family they were born into, and most parents choose to remain with their children.  It isn't always easy, but it is what the family requires of one.

Divorce is legal, though it is somewhat rare.  Divorce is typically tantamount to a public retraction/denouncement of the political alliance cemented by the marriage, and is thus both politically unwise and highly embarrassing.  There have, however, been instances of particularly nasty political games...


----------



## ellinor

After a harrowing night of socialites and street-brawlers, our party has 
secretly teleported to the City at the Boundary of the Blessed Lord's
Edge (commonly known as Lord's Edge) in the Sovereignty of Kettenek.
Somewhere in the dangerous wilds of the Ketkath Mountains lies a holy
spring dedicated to Alirria... which may hold the answers to Rose's
questions. If they can find it.

Can they?

Can they?

Stay tuned to find out.

Update tomorrow!


----------



## Ilex

*2x01*

The blinding white light blew itself out like a candle snuffed by wind.  

Darkness replaced it.  Arden could hear the gentlefolk catching their breath in the silence around her.  She had a sense of a vast indoor space, and she could smell a difference in the air, something she could detect but not define, the way a farm smells different on the first warm day of spring compared to the last cold day of winter.  Before her eyes even adjusted to the darkness, then, she knew by the smell:  she was somewhere strange, somewhere foreign.

_They really brought me along_, she thought, astonished by that simple fact as well as by her first exposure to such advanced magic.  _Halfway across the world, just like that.  I'm really here._ 

Dim light filtered into the building from the moon outside.  They were in a warehouse, not unlike the one in Pol Henna, filled with shipping crates.  The place was deserted.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the city of Lord's Edge, one of the crown jewels in the Sovereignty of Kettenek," said Kormick, uncharacteristically softly.  "As you can see, a place of sweeping vistas, marvels at every turn, and a zeal for law enforcement that we of Dar Und only dream about.  In our nightmares."

"Assuming this place is like our teleport center, it'll get really busy around dawn," said Tavi.  "If we leave now, we can be outside the city gates by then."

Kormick shook his head.  "The city gates will be locked until after sunrise.  We'll have to wait."

"Anyway," said Twiggy, "shouldn't we take some time here and ask around about the oracle?  Maybe someone knows where it is."

To Arden's amusement, Kormick looked as if he wanted to pat Twiggy's cheek affectionately, like an old grandfather.  "You're a cute girl.  'Let us go forth into the city of fundamentalist Kettenek believers and announce that we're outsiders in search of an Alirrian holy site.'  Heh."

"But – but she's right -- there should be Alirrians to talk to," said Savina.  "Other religious groups are legal here now.  It would be nice to visit the Givers."

"I cannot advise publicizing our secret mission among the city's persecuted but technically legal minorities.  I do suggest finding another place to wile away the hours until dawn.  Shall we -- ?"  Kormick gestured toward the door.

"I will not allow Rose to leave until we know what awaits us outside," Mena declared.  "Until we know exactly where we're going, she should remain here."

"Then how about you and I take the slave and go see what we can learn?"

"Agreed," said Mena.  "Tavi– "

"—look after Rose," finished Tavi. 

Arden pointedly turned to Savina.  By now, she was confident that her mistress did not demand abject submission, but with new owners, observing the proprieties was always important until you knew how strict they were . . . and in Arden's experience, they had all been strict.  "Blessed Daughter, is it your wish that I accompany them?"

Savina looked startled to be asked.  "Of course, yes, whatever is best," she said.

Arden nodded once with careful humility, then stepped away to join Kormick and Mena.  _I'm really here_, she thought again.  _Miles away from everything.  My mistress doesn't give orders, and against my better judgment, I even like the alleged Justicar.  By the gods, what we have here is a vacation_.  She found herself starting to smile at the absurdity and squelched it lest anyone see.  

"Before you go," said Rose, "I've brought along a few items that might be useful."  She opened the silver clasps of her bag and drew out three potions of healing, one potion of resistance to energy, two augmenting whetstones, and a pouch that rattled with the distinctive sound of money.  "This is five hundred in gold and gems," she explained.

_I could buy five of me with that,_ Arden mused.  _More, if I haggled._

"I'll carry the gold and gems," volunteered Kormick, reaching out his hand only to be greeted by six openly skeptical faces.  "Okay, okay," he said.  "The Blessed Daughter can carry the gold and gems."

Rose handed the money to Savina, who looked nervous but resolute.  She packed the pouch away.  The rest of the items were quickly distributed, and Kormick, Mena, and Arden prepared to leave.

"Just one more question," said Twiggy.  "If it's so dangerous to be foreigners here, what are you going to do if someone tries to arrest you?" 

"Not a problem."  Kormick clapped Twiggy's shoulder in a gesture meant to be reassuring, causing her to stagger a little.  "We'll knife him in the kidneys, hand the murder weapon to the slave, and run."

Arden stared.  _He is joking.  He makes jokes like that.  Usually I think he's funny._ 

Kormick met her eyes.

"No offense," he said.

"Please don't lose Arden," said Savina, not getting the joke, either.  "The Honored Mother wouldn't be pleased if I – "

"I'd pay you back."

"Well, I guess that would help, but – "  

"Young lady, as surely as Kettenek's laws and what-not stand firm in the manner of an oak tree or some similarly firm object, I promise I will only pin murders on the slave _as a last resort_."

_I'm on vacation_, Arden resolved.  _ I'm not going to waste time worrying about what Alleged the Just could do to me._ 

But it wasn't really a vacation.  And she knew it.  As she followed Kormick and Mena out into the dark streets of Lord's Edge, Arden's heart was pounding. 

###

The city streets surrounding the teleport center were nondescript.  Their defining characteristic was their emptiness:  no one was in sight, and the silence was eerie.

Mena and Kormick led the way, selecting a route mostly at random, consulting with quick gestures.  Arden followed, a shadow in their wake.  Despite her unease about the Justicar, she savored being alone with the two other adults in the group.  She felt a kinship with them:  she had a sense that they had all won their maturity through difficult trials.  They knew that the world was harsh.  

On a long, broad street, Kormick suddenly dropped back to walk beside Arden.  "Slave," he said softly, conversationally.  "Tell me about the time you escaped."

_So much for kinship._  "I'm sorry, Justicar?" she asked, reflexively pretending ignorance even though they both knew what he was talking about. 

"That cuff on your wrist.  It means you're a slave who tried to run."

"I didn't succeed, Justicar."

"Indeed, I'm not blind.  But now, in their wisdom, the Givers have handed you a sword – and what other weapons are you hiding under that cloak?  Tell me."

"A dagger and a sling, Justicar."

"I see.  They gave you a small arsenal, plus survival equipment, and sent you out into a foreign land to serve someone who is _explicitly_ the most naive girl they could find.  What's to stop you from running again?  And from stabbing us all to death first?"

_Fair questions, Alleged_.  "I learned my lesson, Justicar."

"Thank you, I feel entirely reassured.  Let us review the lesson that _I_ will teach you if you ever  -- "

"Kormick," interrupted Mena.  "Leave Arden alone.  There's someone up ahead."

A city guard was standing in their path, his arms crossed.  

"It's after prayer time," he said, eying Mena's Sedellan armor.  "Why are you out?"

Kormick stepped forward.  "May Kettenek's various ordinances fall upon your head.  We're travelers in your illustrious city, looking for a place to spend the night."

The guard was unimpressed with Kormick's Justicar robes.  "Then get yourselves to the rats' quarter," he growled.  He pointed east, down the hill.  "Make haste."

He glared after them as they followed the direction of his finger.   As they descended the hill, the structures became dilapidated, the signs of poverty greater.  Finally, they reached a district where a few people still moved on the streets, and where one or two seedy buildings bore holy symbols other than Kettenek's.  Kormick paused before a lighted inn bearing a sign:  "The Inn of the Lord's Welcoming Embrace."  

"Well," he said, "we know nothing of Kettenek's hugs in Dar Und."

Kettenek's hugs turned out to consist of a couple sullen customers, "stew" that was actually a cold gruel, and two facts that they essentially knew already:  the Ketkath Mountains were very dangerous, and they might learn more at the Temples of Alirria or Ehkt in the heart of the foreign quarter.  

Mena, Kormick, and Arden crept back through the dark streets.  It was still dark as they arrived at the teleport center, but one or two birds had sung out tentatively along the way.  Dawn was approaching, and getting caught in the warehouse meant getting sent home.  Or worse, being detained in Lord’s Edge by the Sovereigns.  They collected the rest of the group and left the warehouse with quiet haste. Kormick led the way back toward the foreign quarter.

As the reunited group progressed back downhill toward the foreign quarter, a soft line of light spread across the eastern horizon.  The glowing band widened and began to be tinged with orange, and its bottom edge shifted and shone silver as the waters of the Halmae tilted toward dawn.

Twiggy gasped and stopped walking.  "It's on the wrong side," she said.  "I mean – the sun is rising over the sea."  They all stopped and stared, having lived all their lives in lands where the sun set over the Halmae to the west.  Arden felt the weight of the distance they'd come once again.

"Blessed Alirria," breathed Savina.

"We must keep moving," said Mena. 

They did, keeping to the long shadows thrown from the sun’s shallow rising.

Just as the sun sent a blazing splinter over the horizon, they arrived at a big public square.  One side was open except for a giant stone standing like a sentinel.  The other three sides were bordered by buildings.  The building on the right had a fountain in front of it.  Across the square, a flame danced before the second building.  And to the left, before the third building, a small whirlwind swirled perpetually.  These were the temples of Alirria, Ehkt, and Sedellus.  The square itself was filled with thirty or forty Alirrians at prayer, for dawn was Alirria's time.

Savina's face lit up.  "Come, Arden," she said, and hurried to join her sisters.  Arden followed, amused that the Blessed Daughter had just issued her first real order.  Not unwillingly, she raised her face to the first rays of the sun as the Honored Mother, a heavyset man with graying hair and beard, held up his hands and spoke words of greeting to the new day.

"Alirria, Mother, Lady of Dawn,
Awake in us your power,
Restore in us your healing light,
Help each of us to flower.
Alirria, Sister, Lady of Spring – "

"No loitering!"

The harsh voice boomed out from the side of the square.  

It belonged to the leader of a small band of armored men, their hands resting deceptively lightly on the swords and ornamental daggers at their belts.


----------



## WisdomLikeSilence

What a fun update!  It's really interesting to see things from Arden's perspective.


----------



## Jenber

WisdomLikeSilence said:


> What a fun update!  It's really interesting to see things from Arden's perspective.



I agree.  I'd sort of like to sit and chat with Arden, actually.  I suspect she has some interesting thoughts on all of this so far.

It always amuses me how much more is happening in the characters heads than we're aware of at the time.  Makes for a very entertaining story hour.


----------



## Ilex

*2x02*

Savina winced, her meditations interrupted.  She opened her eyes and saw the troop of men standing beside the stone at the entrance to the square.  To her surprise, she detected a hint of enjoyment on the leader's otherwise stern face.  She also saw that the Honored Mother didn't look startled – just frustrated and tired.  _This has happened before_, Savina realized.

The Honored Mother resumed his prayer.  "Alirria, Sister, Lady of Spring, let rains pour down to wash us – "

"Public proselytizing is expressly forbidden.  Disperse your mob, or my brothers and I will do it for you."

"Alirria, Goddess, Lady of Life, protect us with your mercy," said the Honored Mother.  He had skipped to the concluding line of the prayer, Savina realized, and now he was walking over to the interloper.  Savina's confusion became tinged with fear as she heard Twiggy whispering to Rose:  "They look like Sovereign Inquisitors.  Your mother said terrible things about them. . . ."

The Honored Mother was explaining to the man that he was not proselytizing.  "We are all Alirrians," he insisted.  "Already."

"But today, I see new faces," said the Inquisitor.  "Explain."  He looked straight at Savina and she felt a chill. 

"Indeed, I'm already a servant of Alirria," she whispered.  "I'm an acolyte in Alirria's Temple, in the city of --"  

Kormick stepped forward, flashing his holy symbol like a badge.  "Perhaps I might be of assistance?" he asked.

"A heathen?"  The Inquisitor spat at Kormick’s feet.  "I think not."

Kormick glanced down at the wet spot.  "That's adorable," he said.  He sounded sincerely charmed.

For a split second, the Inquisitor looked unnerved.  Then he turned back to Savina.  "You were telling me where you're from," he said.

"We're all brothers here," resumed Kormick, now sounding more like a cool, reasoned Justicar than Savina had ever heard. "If a law is being broken, you might enlighten us all as to its nature.  It is always fruitful to learn more of the ways of Justice."

The Inquisitor glared at Kormick, but hesitated.  Then:  "I suspect proselytizing," he growled. 

"Ah.  I assume you would require proof of such proselytizing in order to prosecute, yes?  Allow me to be of service.  Who here was given the hard-sell by an Alirrian this fine morning?"  He looked around expectantly.  No one stepped forward. 

"Any new converts?"  Kormick asked.  "Anyone?"

Silence.  Kormick turned to the Inquisitor and shrugged.  The Inquisitor turned to the Honored Mother.  

"Hear me," he said.  “This is not over.  But for now . . . "  The Inquisitor gazed out across the crowd of Alirrians and smirked.  He raised his hand in mock benediction.  "Go in peace."

The crowd scattered with the speed of fear.  The Honored Mother wilted, exhausted, as the Inquisitors strode away down the street.  Watching, Savina struggled with an uncomfortable realization.  _It's really true.  I heard . . . but I never really believed anyone could hate the Goddess_.

The Honored Mother turned to her and smiled.  "It's all right," he said.  "We're used to it.  Thank you for speaking when you might have stayed silent.  Will you come in?"  He gestured toward the Temple of Alirria.  

Upon entering, they were hit by the smell.  Among other things, it was, of course, a hospital, and it was crowded.  Many of the people seemed bruised or broken, rather than sick.  "Did – did something happen?  Was there an accident?" asked Savina.  

The Honored Mother shook his head.  He was unwilling to say.

"Ah," said Kormick.  "There's been a sudden outbreak of falling down stairs."

The Honored Mother sighed.  "Yes.  You might say that."

As she grasped what they meant, Savina felt the stirrings of an unfamiliar anger. "Honored Mother," she said, "With – with your permission, I can help."  

The Honored Mother gave her a puzzled nod.  Savina walked to the middle of the ward and closed her eyes in prayer.  She felt the glow of Alirria's healing energy gather within her and she sent it forth in all directions, feeling the wave wash outward from her like soft warm water.  She heard murmurs and gasps – the sounds of people suddenly relieved from pain.  She opened her eyes, reeling slightly from the effort she'd expended, and smiled.  "What else can I do?" she asked. 

(_DM’s Note: That would be the warm healing glow of “Beacon of Hope,” Savina’s Daily Power.  Yes.  Savina’s player used her DAILY POWER outside of combat to heal a room of faceless NPCs.

There’s a reason I love her so._) 

"Bless you, Daughter," said the Honored Mother, looking awestruck.  "I think the real question is, what can I do to repay _you_?"

Savina began to demur but then saw her companions looking at her expectantly.  "Oh," she said.  "Could you tell us how to find the oracle of Alirria at the Vale of the Holy Spring in the Ketkath Mountains?"

Suddenly, Kormick closed his eyes theatrically and sighed.  Mena’s eyes narrowed.  Even Tavi's handsome face registered displeasure.  _But if my companions cannot trust the Honored Mother with information about our destination,_, Savina thought, _who can they trust?_  She suspected, with regret, that the answer might be "no one." 

To her even greater regret, the Honored Mother responded with a look of exhausted resignation, as he'd looked when confronting the Inquisitor.  "The Spring vanished," he said.  "It is lost to the ages of time."

Twiggy stepped forward.  "Do you have any old maps – ?" she began, but the Honored Mother shook his head.

"No earthly maps show it," he said.  "None that are now known, anyway.  It was located near the Ironroot Mines, beyond the Sharpstone Pass.  But the monks that guarded it for generations were found out by the Sovereigns.  The monks fled and the Spring . . . the Spring has since been lost.  I'm sorry – there's nothing more I can tell you."  He stared at the floor, and Savina, to her shock, didn't believe him. _He knows more than that._  Horrified at her own audacity – daring to doubt the Honored Mother's word – she pushed the thought away.  It returned.  _There's something he's not saying.  But surely he has a reason. . . ._

"Well," pressed Twiggy, "how do you get to the Ironroot Mines, then?"  

"It is a long trek through the mountains.  The Water Walkers may know more."  The Honored Mother seemed to be lost in thought.

"We'd better go talk to them," said Twiggy.  "I'll go.  Water Walkers are very interesting people."

"You being another one of these overly trusting youths," said Kormick to Twiggy, "I'll go along—merely in order to clap my hand over your mouth every time you try to speak."

Mena frowned.  "I'm going across the square to speak with the Ehktians.  They may be of help."

The Honored Mother stirred from his reverie.  "If you truly intend to travel outside the foreign quarter, let alone outside the city, you would do well to appear . . . less conspicuous."  He looked at Savina's and Arden's Alirrian robes and Mena's Sedellan armor.  

"I will be fine," said Mena.

"Still, a few plain cloaks would not go amiss," declared Kormick.  "Signor Octavian, perhaps you might locate the market and buy us a few supplies?"

Savina could tell that Tavi, understandably, considered shopping to be beneath him.  He was a warrior, not a drudge.  "Savina's slave can handle that," he said. "I'll keep an eye out for that Inquisitor."  _He says my name in such a nice way,_ Savina thought.

"We are trusting the slave with money now?  Lots of money?  On her own?"

Savina couldn't imagine why Kormick was objecting to Tavi's helpful suggestion.  She glanced at Arden, who was standing politely a few feet behind her, as usual.  "The – the Honored Mother in Pol Henna wouldn't have sent Arden if we couldn't trust her," she said.

"Of course we trust Arden," declared Mena.  "Sending her will allow Tavi to stay here and keep an eye on Rose.  Arden, will you please buy plain cloaks for Savina and yourself?  And we've brought food and basic supplies, but should we consider horses?"

"No," said Kormick.  "We will be heading into the mountains, over rough terrain.  Horses will be trouble.  You may buy one mule, slave.  Do you know how to select a good mule?"

"Yes, Justicar."

"I don't believe you."

"You look at their teeth, Justicar."

"Not just their teeth.  Oh, no.  What else do you study closely?"

Arden hesitated, then shook her head. 

"Poop," announced Kormick triumphantly.  "You are looking for robust, healthy poop.  Teeth and poop, slave.  Say it with me."

"Teeth and poop, Justicar."

"What kind of poop?"

"Robust and healthy, Justicar."  Savina thought that Arden might be on the verge of laughing.  

"And do you know what I will do to you if I suspect that you're skimming off any of this money for yourself?  Do you understand what will happen if you do anything other than come back faithfully – with _exactly_ what we asked for?"

"I am honest, Justicar."  

"We'll see."  

Savina counted out one hundred in gold and handed it to Arden, who tucked it inside her robes and slipped silently out the door.  Mena followed, aiming for the Ehktian complex across the square.  Kormick and Twiggy left the hospital to visit the Water Walkers.  Tavi took up a station with Rose in the entry hall of the Alirrian Temple.  Savina contemplated keeping the siblings company.  There were cross-currents in the air here that she didn't understand, undertows of hidden conflict, and she wanted to stay close to their comforting presence.  

But the Honored Mother was still standing by her side.  "The patients in the leprosy ward . . ." he said.  Savina nodded and hurried after him to render what help she could.  She would do her duty, but she was nervous.  _This man lied to me about Alirria's Spring_.  She took a deep breath and resolved to find out why.


----------



## WisdomLikeSilence

> (_There’s a reason I love her so._)




Aww.  You say the sweetest things.

For the uninitiated, Fajitas and I are married, so we're allowed to flirt with each other.  Not that we ever do so while he's DMing, of course, because that would just be wrong.

I'm playing Savina, and am having a lot of fun with her complete innocence.  I was flattered by your guess of Arden, though, Rughat.


----------



## Orichalcum

WisdomLikeSilence said:


> Aww.  You say the sweetest things.
> 
> For the uninitiated, Fajitas and I are married, so we're allowed to flirt with each other.
> 
> 
> Not that we ever do so while he's DMing, of course, because that would just be wrong.




Because one of the subclauses of Prop 8 was that unmarried people _aren't_ allowed to flirt with each other? 

Agree with you about the DMing, otoh, although sometimes it feels like CP bends over backwards _not_ to play favorites with me, and vice versa. (I think the closest I ever got to "flirting" with him in game was when my witch NPC entranced his PC so she could eat his liver. From my perspective, it wasn't my fault he was the PC who violated the standard Roman rule of "never trust women who flirt with you in strange inns.")

It's a fine fine line to walk, being the GM's spouse.


----------



## havenstone

Orichalcum said:


> I think the closest I ever got to "flirting" with him in game was when my witch NPC entranced his PC so she could eat his liver.




"So _that's_ how it is in their family."

Now I want to go read Alea Iacta again.


----------



## Orichalcum

havenstone said:


> "So _that's_ how it is in their family."




The problems of sadly anemic witches are always discounted...sorry, thread hijacking over.


----------



## Ilex

*2x03*

As Mena arrived at the Ehktian Temple, the perpetual flame outside drew her eye with a power she couldn't resist.  With the faintest clenching of her jaw – and a much greater mental effort – she tore her gaze away and faced the Temple's doors.  _This is necessary_, she told herself.  _And I can do it_.  She took a breath and threw the doors open, entering the headquarters of the Keepers of Light and Flame.  

It could as easily be called a gym as a headquarters:  the Keepers of Flame strove for physical perfection, as their twins, the Keepers of Light, strove for intellectual perfection.  The hall was filled with the sweaty energy of sit-ups, stretching, and sparring.  

An authoritative-looking Keeper approached her.  "What does a Sedellan seek in the house of the sun?" he asked, not unkindly.

Mena braced herself and said, "My name is Brother Spark." It was an Ehktian name, indicative of a member of the Keepers themselves.  Although she was telling the truth – it had been her name, once – it was hard for her to say.  Damn hard.  She watched the Keeper react with puzzlement, but she merely gave him the steady, dangerous gaze that Rose, Tavi, and Twiggy knew well.  "I seek information about the area of the Ketkath Mountains west of here, near the Ironroot Mines."

He asked no questions.  Instead, he walked her over to a different hall and introduced her to the local Questors – the Ehktian sect who sought challenge relentlessly.  Rose's mother, Signora Giovanna, had been a Questor, and she might very well ask every Questor in the Halmae to help find her missing daughter now.  Mena knew that she must tread carefully; she was also determined to remain in this place no longer than absolutely necessary.  But her questions about the area around the Ironroot Mines were met with more questions:  where was she from?  How big was her party?   Was she sure she wouldn't prefer to raft down an unnamed, uncharted mountain river where three Questors had just drowned? 

Mena cut short their friendly inquisition.  "I am hoping you can tell me about any particular – challenges – near the Mines," she said.  At that, they gave her a map adorned with a spattering of red Xs, unpleasantly like blood.  Each X indicated either a site where a Questor had faced a challenge and lived to tell about it or the last known location of a Questor who had gone missing:  all places that future Questors might be eager to visit.  Otherwise, it wasn't a very good map, but Mena rolled it up carefully.  _At least we know what places to avoid,_ she thought.  

As she left the Temple, she forced herself to walk calmly, using everything she had to restrain the urge to run.


----------



## spyscribe

Ilex said:


> Mena braced herself and said, "My name is Brother Spark." It was an Ehktian name, indicative of a member of the Keepers themselves.  Although she was telling the truth – it had been her name, once – it was hard for her to say.  Damn hard.




Reading this, I (of course) had two reactions: 

1 (as spyscribe the player in the current campaign):  "Ooo!  Mena has an exciting secret past!"

2 (as spyscribe the former player of Lira/Giovanna): "I can see why Giovanna liked you, kiddo."


----------



## Jenber

spyscribe said:


> Reading this, I (of course) had two reactions:
> 
> 1 (as spyscribe the player in the current campaign):  "Ooo!  Mena has an exciting secret past!"
> 
> 2 (as spyscribe the former player of Lira/Giovanna): "I can see why Giovanna liked you, kiddo."




1.) Happy to oblige.

2.) You've hit the nail squarely on the head there.  If you've got to have a Sedellan teach your daughter, it might as well be a Sedellan who used to be an Echtian and who doesn't so much worship the goddess as spit in her face.


----------



## Rughat

In my continuing quest to link players to characters:

These are known:
WisdomLikeSilence - Savina
jonrog1 - Kormick
Thatch - Tavi

These are my current guesses:
Jenber - Mena
Ilex - Arden
ellinor - Twiggy

And for the bonus point:

Spyscribe - the self-aware skeleton of Amelia, who has repented and become a follower of Alirria.


----------



## ellinor

Ding ding ding!  Well done, Rughat!  You win the prestigious...um...prize.  OK, there isn't much in the way of prizes.  But certainly, all the prestige you can eat.

As for Spyscribe's character...we'll keep the suspense alive.  But allow me to whet your appetite with a possibly misleading clue:  The session when we meet Spyscribe's character _did_ involve zombies.  In the basement.


----------



## Ilex

*2x04*

Twiggy and Kormick stepped into the Hall of the Water Walkers.  The room, lit by hazy sunbeams pouring through tall windows, was full of light balanced by soft shadow.  

"Hello?"  Twiggy called.  "Is anyone here?"

"One moment," said a voice from one side.  Looking, Twiggy spotted a woman in flowing robes standing in a small antechamber, staring at the wall.  Except she wasn't just staring – she was painting.

As Twiggy followed the strokes of the woman's brush, she really _saw_ the walls of the hall for the first time.  They were covered with images – scenes of faraway places merging and flowing into one another, a vast panorama.  Twiggy gasped, her heart beating faster as she took it all in.  "It's beautiful," she whispered.  

"Thank you," said the woman, turning from the wall and setting down her brush.

"Did you – are these all places you've _been_?" Twiggy asked.  

The woman smiled.  "Of course."  

Twiggy, awestruck, sent her gaze sailing over the ceiling again.  "Where are you going next?"

"Nowhere, for now."

Twiggy frowned.  "What?  Why?"

The woman sighed, but said nothing, busying herself cleaning a paintbrush.  

Kormick stepped forward.  "We need to know about the Ironroot Mines.”

The woman looked startled.  Twiggy stepped in.  “What he means to say is, you have been to so many beautiful places.  Have you by any chance been to the Ironroot Mines?"

"I have."  

"Excellent,” Kormick declared.  “You seem to have some ability to sketch and whatnot.  How quickly can you draw us a map?"

The woman gave him a quizzical look.  "He means,” said Twiggy, “you're an amazing artist, and we would be very, very grateful if you could share your wisdom with us."

The woman smiled.  "It is not a simple path.  I would be happy to make you a map, but it would take me until tomorrow, at least, to draw it properly."

"I don't need art," said Kormick.  "I need a sheet of paper with some lumpy shapes to indicate mountains and a big red line showing the route."  

Twiggy registered the woman’s discomfort.  “What he means to say is, we appreciate your obvious gift for detail, but we would also appreciate anything you could do to expedite the process.”

"That's _exactly_ what I said," Kormick muttered.

"I can prepare a simpler map by this afternoon," she said, "but it won't be complete."  

Twiggy turned to Kormick, concerned.  "I don't think we should go into the Ketkath Mountains without knowing as much as possible," she said.  "Dona Giovanna's stories . . . Wait."  An idea had struck her.  "Could you come with us?" she asked the woman.  "You could tell us everything we need to know, and maybe you'd find some new scenes for your mural!"

The woman's face developed a wistful expression as she took in Twiggy's enthusiasm.  "Possibly," she said.  "But I cannot leave right away.  Perhaps tomorrow . . ."

Kormick shook his head.  "I'm sorry," he said firmly.  "We will wait here for the simple map, but we don't have time for more."

"Why?" asked Twiggy.  "There's no reason we couldn't stay the night.  We just got here!"

Kormick cast her a serious look.  "We had best not," he said.  Then he turned to the woman and took out a pouch of gold coins.  "How much?"

As Kormick and the woman concluded their business, Twiggy stepped away, her eyes traveling again over the paintings.  A waterfall leapt out as if it were truly liquid; a mysterious forest lurked in a shady corner. There was a whole world out there that she didn’t know.  _I've had a lifetime of learning.  I've read libraries full of books.  And I still don’t know enough,_ Twiggy thought.  _I don't know why Kormick is in such a hurry.  I don't know why this woman is here painting instead of walking over the hills.  And I don't know where any of these places really are._  For as long as she could remember, Twiggy had always needed to know the reasons for things, but the desire to _know_ had never been stronger than it was today.  She jumped when Kormick called her name.

"Lady Chelesta!  Time to go."

She smiled, a wistful smile to match the woman's, and followed Kormick out of the hall of sunlight and shadow.


----------



## Seonaid

Ooh! Sounds like Kormick made a Sense Motive check and Twiggy didn't!


----------



## ellinor

Seonaid said:


> Ooh! Sounds like Kormick made a Sense Motive check and Twiggy didn't!




Hee!  Actually, as I recall, this was all just role-playing.  Kormick and Twiggy have very different ways of approaching the world.


----------



## ellinor

*2x05*

A man was shouting at Arden in the marketplace.  At first, she ignored him.  A lot of people were shouting in the marketplace;  there was no reason to think that this man was shouting at _her_.

"You!  Pretty lady!  Red lady!"

With a sinking feeling, Arden glanced around to confirm that she was the only red-haired woman in the vicinity.  She was.  

"Pretty lady!  You want bagel?  Please, over here, over here!"

"No, thank you," she said, still walking.

"Yes yes yes!  Lady!  Good bagel for you!  Come and see, now!"

As his voice briefly modulated from cajoling to commanding, Arden obeyed automatically, turning to face him before she could stop herself.  He was a dwarf standing in a stall full of miscellaneous junk.  He was holding some rocks.  

"Yes, yes, good bagel, you like, yes?  Please, come and see, come and see."

Arden stayed where she was, frowning at the rocks, seeing nothing special.  _In the blessed names of all the gods_," she thought, "_what is 'bagel'?_ 

"I don't understand," she said.

"Come and see.  Make good bagel for you.  Special price."

Arden squinted.  The dwarf's beard seemed to be fake.  _Oh, gods, this is trouble._  Her goal was to buy exactly what the Justicar wanted, no more, no less;  her goal was to make them all accept that she was worthy of the Blessed Daughter's trust.  She needed their trust.  She didn't need a stranger in a ridiculous disguise calling attention to her and speaking in riddles.  

Still, she stepped a little closer so that they could speak without shouting.  "I don't understand," she repeated. "Explain to me in plain Common."

"Pretty lady want make bagel?"

_Right.  Maybe you're selling some kind of useful contraband that you can't advertise openly.  And maybe you want to force me to 'make bagel' for you until my death day in your underworld slave-camp bagel-making smithy.  Whatever it is, there's no way you're legal._

"I'm leaving," she said.

"No, no, Red!  Pretty lady!  Bagel!  Much much bagel!"  

She kept walking.  The encounter bothered her because she didn't understand it.  As she bargained for plain cloaks and dutifully poked at mule poop, she wondered about the disguised dwarf.  She didn't regret moving on, exactly, but she would have liked to possess the autonomy and authority to find out his business.  As she walked back toward the Temple of the Givers with the mule, a few leftover gold pieces jingling in the pouch to help prove to the Justicar that she had kept nothing for herself, she realized wryly: _I'm going to be wondering what 'bagel' means for the rest of my life_.


----------



## ellinor

*2x06*

At the Temple of Alirria, Savina pushed a strand of hair off her forehead as she took a break from stirring soup.  She was bone weary from labor.  She had healed those she could with Alirria’s blessings, tended the wounds that remained with her mundane healing arts, cleaned floors, changed sheets, and was now cooking.  The Honored Mother had worked steadily by her side the entire time.  He seemed astonished and grateful to have such a dedicated helper.  There were few Givers in Lord’s Edge, and they were overworked.  He had told her repeatedly that she had done quite enough, but Savina had worked on for him regardless.

She had been thinking about something her sister had told her.  _Men are all the same.  Do a little something for them, and they'll do anything for you._  She'd done a _lot_ of work for the Honored Mother.  Maybe now he would speak to her more freely.

"Are you sure there isn’t anything more that you can tell me about Alirria's Spring, Honored Mother?" she began.

He looked unnerved.  "No."

"Honored Mother, please, we – we have to travel that way, no matter what.  But I know the road is dangerous.  Isn't there anything you know that can help us?  Please?"

He closed his eyes for a long moment.  "You could stay here and help us."

"I can't, Honored Mother.  I think – I think Alirria wants me to go on.  Please help me.  Please."

His eyes were still closed.  "I'm too ashamed," he whispered.

The pain in his voice hurt Savina.  She wanted to cry.  "Alirria is merciful," she said.  "You can't have done anything at all that she can't heal."

"But I did it to her."

Savina felt a little chill despite the heat of the cooking fire.  "I – I don't understand," she murmured.

Silence fell for a moment, and then he began speaking in a monotone.  "I was once an Inquisitor.  Many years ago, I worked with that man who harassed us this morning – who harasses us all the time.  Our job was to enforce Kettenek's primacy in the Sovereignty.  One day, we got a tip-off that a group of Alirrian monks was living in secret in the City of the Cauldron of the Lord’s Sleeping Fury.  We exterminated them."  He paused.  "None were allowed to escape."

Tears sprang to Savina's eyes.  

"The chief monk was taken prisoner.  He was to be tortured to death in the public square.  I was sent to bring him to the execution.  He was an elderly man, and oddly serene, given his circumstances.  I asked him why this was so.  The monk replied ‘The Spring will look after itself now; only those who travel Alirria’s path will find it.  What else could concern me now?’”

The Honored Mother paused again.  “He did not die serenely. And his screams haunt me yet . . .”  

He was weeping now.  "You have done so many good things since then," said Savina softly, her horror muted by the man's obvious repentance.  "I'm sure you're in Alirria's hands."

"I'm not," he said.  "When the Lord Regent made legal the worship of other gods, I found in myself the courage to do what I had longed desired.  I left the Inquisitors and dedicated myself to Alirria.  I spent many years searching for the Spring, hoping to take the duty of its protection upon myself as atonement.  But Our Lady has never allowed me to find it:  she has hidden it from my eyes.  I am not forgiven.  Nor should I be."

"She is merciful, Honored Mother."  Savina reached out and covered his hand with her own.  She wanted so much for him to stop hurting.  He took a shuddering breath and nodded.

"I can only hope.  I _will_ hope.  But I cannot help you find the Spring.  I must continue my duties here – no matter what happens."

"What do you mean, no matter what happens?"

He sighed once more, but he had stopped weeping.  "That is my concern, Blessed Daughter, not yours.  Come.  I will tell you what I know about the journey to the monastery.  You must start out by following the River of Winding Rapids . . . ."


----------



## Ilex

*2x07*

As the sun slanted toward afternoon, everyone returned to the Alirrian Temple.  With the Honored Mother's permission, Savina told the group his story.  Then, pooling their information, and with the Honored Mother's help, Kormick plotted out a route that would take them to the general vicinity of the spring.  To Savina, the Justicar seemed hurried and tense.  He even accepted Arden's purchases matter-of-factly, apparently forgetting his suspicions of her.  

Finally, Kormick concluded one last consultation about the map with the Honored Mother.  "Time to leave!" he announced.

"Now?" asked Tavi.  "It's mid-afternoon.  Shouldn't we start in the morning?"  Savina nodded.  Tavi had asked exactly the question that was on her mind.

"If we leave now, we can be several miles outside the city by nightfall."

"But why couldn't we spend the night here?" asked Twiggy.  "We could get a better map – we could even get a guide – "

"If we spend the night here, we risk drawing unwanted attention to this Temple.  And that is the last thing that the Honored Mother would want.  Isn't that right?"  He turned to the Honored Mother, who looked pained.  

"Honored Mother . . . ?" prompted Savina.  "What – what do you think we should do?"

"Much as I would selfishly like you to stay, Blessed Daughter . . . you should go."

"I concur," said Mena.  "If there is to be trouble here, I don't want Rose involved."

Tavi unconsciously took a step closer to Rose and put his hand on the pommel of his sword.  "Then we leave now," he said, and Savina accepted that the debate was over.

###

They passed the great gates of Lord's Edge amid a progression of villagers who were leaving at the end of the workday.  Kormick stalked at the front of the group, setting a vigorous pace and glancing back over his shoulder from time to time.  Tavi, Mena, and Twiggy walked with Rose.  Savina walked along behind them, ahead of the _clop clop_ of the mule, barely noticing as their path began to wind along a river and the road acquired rough stones that tore at her delicate slippers.  She was worrying about the Honored Mother.  He had seemed so sad, and Mena had said there might be trouble.  _What trouble?  Won't Alirria protect her children?_

She thought of the man that Twiggy had called an Inquisitor.  _He said that something isn't over.  What did that mean?_  She gasped.

"They aren't going to attack the Temple tonight, are they?" she blurted out.

From the front of the group, Kormick gave a hearty laugh.  "No," he called back.  "No, dear girl, no.  The religious fanatics of Lord's Edge certainly _may_ not attack and destroy the Temple _tonight_.  Take comfort.  They might wait a day!  Maybe a week!"

Savina felt sick.  "What if they need our help?  What if they – "

"There is nothing we could do," Mena interjected.  "By staying, we only made the problem worse."

"But if they're going to be attacked – "

"That is only a fearful thought," said Mena firmly.  "It may never come to pass.  The Honored Mother seemed like a very diplomatic man, and now that we are gone, the Inquisitors will have to look elsewhere for excuses to make trouble."

Suddenly Tavi turned around and, walking backwards, looked straight at Savina.  "It's all right," he said.  "Those Givers serve Alirria, and you've strengthened the Honored Mother's faith, so Alirria will help them.  That's how it works."

Savina felt comforted.  She met Tavi's eyes shyly.  "Thank you, Tavi," she said, venturing to call him by his nickname.  He gave a curt – but not unfriendly – nod of acknowledgement and turned back around.  

Kormick said in a stage-whisper:  "Excellent.  When we see the inevitable smoke and flames from Lord's Edge tonight, perhaps you all might suggest to her that it is a festival honoring Kettenek's wondrous city sanitation regulations."

Just as Savina's heart began to plummet again, a low voice spoke up behind her.  "Ignore him, Blessed Daughter.  He makes jokes like that."  Savina glanced back to see Arden leading the mule and looking at her slippers.  "I think I should have bought boots for you at the market."

"I have never worn boots," said Savina, puzzled.

"Forgive my presumption, Blessed Daughter."

They walked on.  Savina's feet began to hurt.

They camped that night a few hundred yards off the road, over a ridge that would hide them from the sight of other travelers, in a small valley.  Savina was glad to sit down as the others made themselves comfortable and Arden bustled around quietly, lighting a fire, cooking dinner, and setting up Savina's small tent.

Savina was surprised that the plain food seemed to taste as good as it did;  she was very hungry.  As she ate, she puzzled over the fact that no one else had a tent – not even Rose – even though most of them had burdened themselves with armor and weaponry that they would probably never need.  They all seemed to be planning to sleep in the open air, by the fire.  Savina had never slept under the stars in her life and shivered at the idea of doing so now.

"That just leaves Tavi without a partner," concluded Kormick, who was organizing shifts for an all-night watch.

"Arden can accompany him," said Mena.

Kormick laughed.  "Perhaps _you_ will sleep soundly while the slave and her dagger stand watch over our unconscious, helpless bodies, but I will not.  The slave is not allowed to keep watch.  Young lady, you must join Tavi."

He was looking at Savina.  She felt a warm glow suffuse her, and the night, with its strange sounds and cool air, seemed suddenly exciting rather than scary.  "Um.  If you think so,” she agreed.  She saw Arden beginning to unroll a blanket just outside the tent, in the shadow.  "You can sleep in the tent, Arden," she added.  "I – I have to keep watch." 

Kormick made a throat-slitting gesture with his hand. 

Arden's eyes widened in surprise.  "_In_ the tent, Blessed Daughter?"

"Of course."  

Arden didn’t ask twice.  She bowed her head low.  "Thank you, Blessed Daughter," she said, and then ducked inside the tent.  As the others lay down around the fire, wrapping themselves up against the chill air and preparing to sleep, Savina shyly walked over to Tavi's stalwart silhouette at the edge of the firelight.

###

Arden curled up in the tent, astonished at her good fortune.  She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept both comfortably and in private, and tonight she was forbidden to do anything but that.  She felt exhausted, but luxurious, sliding toward a deep, oblivious sleep.  Just before the darkness claimed her, she thought, _Maybe this really is a vacation, after all._

Later, when the scuttling and the screams began, her mind accepted them unquestioningly, allowing them to transform her dreams to nightmares.  Such nightmares were old companions, though, and the bedroll in the tent was so warm and soft.  

She slept on.


----------



## WisdomLikeSilence

Ahh that tent.  I amused myself immensely when I realized that *of course* Savina would pack a tent over armor.  She's still puzzled that no one else brought one.


----------



## ellinor

and all of a sudden, the reason becomes slightly more clear...


----------



## ellinor

*2x08*

Twiggy felt a jostling against her arm, and stirred awake, muttering to herself.  _What was that for?_  She didn’t need much sleep, but it couldn’t possibly be time for third watch already.  The sky was still heavy with dark.  The air was cool.  

Across the camp, Tavi was yelling.  “Rose!  Mena!  Get up!”  

_Ah, not me.  Five more minutes._ No, you.  NOOOOOOWWW!

_What’s wrong, Acorn?_

RAAATS!

Twiggy sat up and opened her eyes.  Rats were streaming in to the camp, over the bluffs, from all directions.  Rats, and huge rats, and roiling piles of snarling rats.  

Tavi and Savina rushed around the camp, waking the others.  

Twiggy cringed in horror as the rats rushed toward her, their shiny coats and tiny eyes reflecting the dim moonlight.  She froze, disgusted, and braced herself.  _There’s nothing worse than rats._ But as she felt their rough fur brush against her ankles and the unnervingly soft flicks of their tails against her shins and knees, she realized that there was something worse.  They were rushing past her, straight for Rose.  They were _all_ heading straight for Rose.  Rose, who was still just barely awake.   

Savina screamed.

Nonononononononono . . . came the voice inside Twiggy’s head.

Twiggy tried to collect her thoughts.  _Mama Rossi always kept a light on in the kitchen to keep the rats out.  Rats are nocturnal.  Rats don’t like light.  Learning to make light was one of the first spells she had learned.  She cast, and the area lit up, as if the moon hung just above their camp.  Easy.

But all that did was to make the horror of the scene easier to see.  The rats continued to swarm, just as before.  Kormick arose next to his bedroll, a crossbow in each hand.  Even moments after awakening, he stood with the confident and menacing air of . . . one accustomed to holding a crossbow in each hand.  “These are some very strange rats,” he proclaimed, firing two shots at once.

As if I didn’t already know that.  Twiggy could do nothing but watch as the first rats reached Rose and started to climb her dress, biting and scratching.  As Rose beat at her skirts, trying to shake them off, Twiggy thought back to their lifetime together.  She had seen Rose in every kind of situation, but had never seen her lose her tight grip on her emotions.  I’ve seen Rose at her best and her worst, Twiggy thought, but I’ve never seen Rose look helpless before.  It wasn’t a comforting thought.  Rose was famously calm and collected.  Helpless seemed wrong on her.  But it was galvanizing, too.  I never want to feel as helpless as Rose looks right now, Twiggy thought.

A knotted mass of rats was approaching Rose from behind the tent.  Twiggy cast about for something that would stop them.  Sleep.  She concentrated and cast, focusing on the center of the mass.  Let’s hope this works on rats.  It did, but not as well as she had hoped—A few rats were stilled, but others just climbed over them, undeterred.

Mena was up, and moving to protect Rose.  As she strode across the camp, she slashed at the rats with her blade, stabbing, slicing, and batting them away.  But she could only hit one rat at a time, and there seemed to be hundreds of them.  “Gather up around Rose!” she hollered.  “Rose needs our help!”

Tavi was already on his way, wielding his sword with protective rage.  Its blade glowed with green flame, scorching every rat he hit.  The acrid, ferric smell of burning fur and blood began to surround them.  But the rats continued to scratch and bite at Rose, her dress now torn and bloody.  They attacked Tavi, too, with claws and teeth, as they struggled to stream past him and attack his sister. 

Kormick moved into a protective position and traded his crossbows for warhammers, swinging at the moving ground with both hands.  “Young lady!”  he hollered at Rose, “don’t just stand there cringing and flailing!  Stomp on them!  Fight back!”  But she did not:  Another rat scrambled up Rose’s skirt as she stumbled down on to one knee.

Rose set her jaw in determination as Mena slashed at a huge rat just short of her hem.  “I have never killed a living thing in my life,” said Rose.  “I will not start now.”

“Maybe this is an attempt to make you try!” Savina screamed, moving to stand between the rats and Rose.  The rats clawed at her legs and skirt and swarmed around her toward Rose, running through the camp’s fire, covering the sides of the little tent.  Determined, Savina focused on the swarm, and prayed for Alirria’s aid.  It worked.  A shaft of light descended on the swarm, immobilizing some and slowing others.  But the rats kept coming, and Savina could not reach Rose to heal her.  She said a prayer for Tavi, and his energy rebounded.

Twiggy had little time to wonder why Arden hadn’t yet joined in the fight.  She was too busy casting.  But she found it difficult to concentrate, and her spells fizzled on her fingers.  Too many surprises, she thought, backing toward the little tent.  Remember what Mena said.  Block them out.  Concentrate.

Suddenly, a loud ripping sound erupted behind her, and she spun to see the point of a short sword tearing heroically through the tent.  The sword skewered a large rat, and then another, pulling back to leave their carcasses to roll down the side.   As the sword tore through the other side of the tent, slicing at a swarm, Arden rose through the gaps her sword had left.  Arden was, most definitely, awake.  

As Arden moved to complete the circle of allies around Rose, a huge rat bit at her ferociously.  Mena pulled Arden into the circle, receiving the wound in Arden’s place.   As Arden stared in surprise at her rescuer, Rose pulled a vial from her pack and drank a healing potion.  It gave her the energy to remain standing, but not much more.  Mena saw Rose’s weakness, and knew the allies could not let many more rats penetrate their circle.   But there were too many; soon, they would be overcome.  Mena yelled:  “Pull it together!  This ends now!”

It was Mena’s version of an inspiring word, and somehow, it helped.  Twiggy focused her mind on one swarm after another, pushing waves of psychic energy into the center of each.  The rats’ movement changed, becoming disoriented.   As the rats scratched and scrambled, Mena slashed at them, cutting them deep, and batting them away with the broadside of her sword.  Tavi, with a short incantation, released the hilt of his sword, which swung around in a circle like a boomerang, rats flying in all directions from its impact, before returning to his hand.  

And as Twiggy watched, Kormick held the handles of his warhammers together in front of his face, concentrated, and said softly enough that only Twiggy could hear, “Elizabette.”  A burst of force exploded from the space between the hammers, like a lake’s worth of water being pushed through a very small pipe.  The force and flame seared at the rat swarms as they climbed atop, around, over each other.  It obliterated them, turning the ground to red paste.  

Twiggy filed that information away.  I guess he really did have powers, back before he was expelled from the Academy.  But she couldn’t stop to think about who “Elizabette” might be, she told herself.  She had to ready herself for more rats.  

But the rats had stopped coming.  And as Twiggy surveyed the area, she saw that this was not because the rats were running away, although a few stragglers did so.  It was because the rats were dead.  Well, not all of them.  One remained incapacitated by Twiggy’s sleep spell, until Mena strode over to it and stepped on it, slowly increasing the pressure under her foot until Twiggy heard a “snap.”     

Then silence.  It was night again in the forest.  

Night, but with what seemed like hundreds of rat carcasses littering their tiny camp.  

Twiggy stared at her bedroll, marveling at how little time had passed during the fight, but how different she felt now than she had before they’d laid that bedroll out.  It’s just like Mena said.  No matter how much training you do—and she had trained, first at the Academy, and then with Mena, whenever her responsibilities allowed—it never really prepares you for what you’ll have to face.    She wondered if Tavi felt the same way.  If he does, she thought, he’d never admit it.

A short investigation revealed that the rats had come from all directions; there was no source to follow.  Twiggy thought back to her studies:  There were stories of those who could rain down evil, or compel people to do something—at the Sorcerers’ Academy, there was a story about a student who figured out how to make everyone on the campus raise their left hand at once—but nothing about a ritual powerful enough to carry out this sort of large-scale animal control.  “Who could have done this?”  she mused.  “No one even knows we’re here.”

“Perhaps this is a warning,” Savina offered, “telling us to stay out of the Ketkath.”

Kormick chuckled, wryly.  “Or Kettenek’s version of a hug.”

“If it is a warning,” Mena announced, “it is one we cannot heed.  Let us finish our rest there,” she pointed to a bluff, about a hundred feet away, “and set out again in the morning.”

“If we are fortunate,” Kormick offered, “the stench won’t follow us that far.”

They were not so fortunate._


----------



## ellinor

*3x01*

Kormick had smelled a lot of bad smells before.  Back alleys; tavern privies; fishmongers’ shacks, the squalid rooms of small-time crooks who hadn’t paid up and soon would be screaming about their broken knees . . .   _Gods, you break man's knees, he just won't shut up about it ..._

All those olfactory nightmares were part of his life in Dar Und.  But as he awoke, the wind carried an odor so bad he didn’t just smell it—he felt it.  The ferric stench of dead rats permeated the air, coating his nostrils and the back of his throat, sinking into his stomach.  _Note to self,_ he thought, unsurprised.  _100 feet is not enough._

Mena and Twiggy were patrolling the last of their watch shift, and the slave Arden was standing over the fire, cooking the morning meal.  As Kormick watched a rivulet of steam rise from the slave’s cookpot, the thought of eating brought with it a new wave of nausea.  He pulled his pack together and set about waking the others. 

As each person woke, the consensus grew that they should pack up the camp as quickly as possible and put some serious distance between themselves and the rat-strewn valley before doing anything else.

“If you think that is best,” said Rose, “but we should carry with us the breakfast that Arden is cooking.  It smells good.”

Everyone in the group spun to look at her.  “How can you possibly smell breakfast,” Twiggy asked, “with this overwhelming stench in the air?”  Twiggy went back to what she had been doing—which, as far as Kormick could tell, was trying to calm the agitated mouse trembling in her hand.

“The only thing I smell is breakfast,” replied Rose.  She paused a bit.  “No, that’s not true.  I also smell the flowers growing on that shrub,” she pointed to a bush that looked like honeysuckle, but with bluish flowers, “and the dirt of the forest floor... ” she trailed off as she looked at the ground and the legion of dead rats scattered not far away.

Savina gave her a quizzical look.  “You mean to say you don’t smell the dead rats?”

Rose stared at the ground.  “I don’t smell them at all."  She shook her head.  "Why don’t I smell them?”  She looked up and around at the others, a hint of panic creeping into her voice.  “Why don’t I smell them!?”

The others had never seen Rose so agitated.  They looked at each other, uncomfortably unable to answer.  “I... maybe...”  Twiggy began, and stopped, at a rare loss for words.

“Try over there,” Savina suggested weakly, motioning Rose toward the rat carcasses.  “Maybe if you got closer...”

As Rose began to walk toward the remains of the battle, her unease increasingly apparent, Mena jumped in.  “We are not going to test whether Rose can smell them ‘up close.’  Nor are we going to play twenty questions or dangle a dead rat in front of her face.  We have a long way to go today.  Rose, naturally we will bring the food.  It is in limited supply.”

_Effective,_ Kormick thought, admiringly, as he watched Mena calm Rose, giving her packing tasks to keep her mind off this apparently new manifestation of her uniqueness.  _I like that in a woman.  Let other men talk of opal eyes or golden hair.  Effective, and good with a flail._  He'd known Mena for a few years, back when he was at the Academy.  She had a certain ... presence even then.  He tried to summon up a memory of her smiling.  The best he could do was a bemused scowl.  

Kormick pulled the pen from his breast pocket – it was his sole magic item, and one he treasured for sentimental reasons in addition to the obviously practical reason that it never ran out of ink – and made another note in his lambskin book.



> *Excerpts from the notebook of Jan Kormick*
> 
> March 19  28 days of food.
> Terrain:  river bank, forest.
> 
> “Six months walking in front of a spoiled city girl riding a mule,” I said, when I left Dar Und.  Clearly, someone has other ideas about this trek.  Our tiny, nasty, biting little visitors last night were clearly unnatural in origin.  Dame Mena says Sedellus herself may have sent them; whoever it was, they didn’t succeed.  Oh, they did succeed in making an impression, but not in actually killing anyone.
> 
> Signor DiRapezzi's brood is competent in battle, but clearly inexperienced.  It will be interesting to see how they fare when it’s not just rats.  I don’t think any of them has killed a person before.  Rose says she has never killed anything, ever.  They all seem content to keep her from needing to.
> 
> Signor Tavi is the one to watch.  He fights for a good cause, and he's classically trained -- but he's got a nasty edge, he gets that smile a good street man gets when the blood hits the floor.  If we were in Dar Und, I'd add him to my crew in a liar's heartbeat.
> 
> We have planned our route, combining information from all three of the maps we obtained in the city of Lord’s Edge (a city about which I have already written much, and will write much _much_ more another day …).  The Water Walker’s map is more or less complete, showing terrain, forest, plains, streams, mountains, and so forth.  The Healer’s map is basic, but it seems to identify an area (in the mountains to the south) where we should look.  It is a large area – to be sure, several days’ travel in all directions –  but searching merely part of the Ketkath is much better than searching the whole damn thing.  Dame Mena explained the annotations on the Questor map – a “maelstrom”, “crab-like rock monsters,” Derro, “giant flying lizard,” other so-called “challenges,” along with dates indicating how long ago the Questors had found them.  These have given us a good idea of which areas to avoid.
> 
> (Here, Kormick drew a simple but clear map, to which he could refer later.)
> 
> By the banks of the river, Savina asked whether Derro really exist.“So . . . when my nurse told me to go to sleep or else the derros would drag me to their underground caves and eat me, she was telling the truth?”
> 
> Adorable.
> 
> Mena patiently explained that they seldom leave the wilds, but “now that we are in the wilds . . . we would do well to avoid them.”  She is a master of understatement.
> 
> The best route – following the river, manageable terrain, furthest from Questor “challenges” – takes us past the spot marked “giant flying lizard,” from two years ago.  It may be long gone.  Or it may be waiting to devour us all.  Lady Chelesta thinks “giant flying lizard” means dragon.  She seems almost excited about it.  But clearly, if they had meant dragon, they would have said dragon. This must be some as-yet unnamed giant flying lizard.  “Bet you it’s a dragon,” she said.
> 
> Even more adorable.
> 
> March 20 27 days of food.
> Terrain:  forest, foothills.  The last signs of civilization are behind us.  Walked all day.
> 
> Apparently one can develop blisters through satin slippers.  This surprises no one but Savina.  Why did the Givers not suggest she bring boots?  She has had to use her healing talent on her own feet.  To recap Savina's preparations for a secret mission into deadly territory in the heart of a hostile nation, in opposition to the Goddess of Death:  Boots, no.  Armor, no.  Tent, yes.
> 
> It appears that Savina really is as sweet and innocent as she appears.  It is as endearing as it is annoying.  She is ridiculously dedicated to her goddess.
> 
> Signora Rose is still quiet.  Perhaps the reality of the quest is sinking in?  Dame Mena looks after her.  Signor Tavi is always by her side.  A good brother, protector.
> 
> March 21 26 days of food.
> We have left the road along the banks of the river (“Alirria’s path,” perhaps?) and entered the mountains.  Terrain:  up, followed by down.  Mostly up.  Snow-capped peaks above us, melting.
> 
> Without rushing water, the nights are too quiet.  It is hard to sleep without the sounds of the city.  The rats and the quiet have made the kids jumpy, and they rouse at any animal noise.  Savina asks every five minutes what is making various sounds.  Usually it is our own feet.  Sometimes it is some strange animal.
> 
> The Ketkath is as strange as we have been told, if not stranger.  The nature here is not normal.  25% of everything seems not quite right; 15% seems downright wrong.  Electric plants.  Strangely-colored animals – purple, blue.
> 
> March 22 25 days of food
> Terrain:  mountains.
> 
> The slave, Arden, has given Savina her boots and is now using the slippers.  Why did Savina not order the switch earlier?  She seems singularly unclear on how owning a slave works.
> 
> We have found a rocky clearing for our camp.  Two fires this time; we need the heat.  First supper, then sleep.




Kormick tucked the notebook back into his pocket, and looked fondly at the pen.  He wondered if Dante di Raprezzi had known – all those years ago, when he handed it to Kormick and said goodbye – that Kormick would still be using it today, that it would be such a help as Kormick observed, noted, planned.  Now he was helping to keep Dante’s daughter safe.  

Dante’s daughter, who was apparently being hunted by the *Goddess of Evil*.  Kormick imagined what the others must be thinking:  it’s a walk in the park.  "Hike through the country, ask questions from some crazy Alirrian Spring, hike back."  He tried think of it that way himself, but it didn’t work.  _Gods are like Bosses you can’t pay off,_ he thought.  _Cross them, and it doesn’t matter how innocent you are, how well protected you are, how many people care for you.  They’ll find you.  They’ll make you pay._

He slipped the pen back in its spot, next to the book.  It was time for supper.


----------



## babomb

Kormick is awesome.


----------



## Jenber

babomb said:


> Kormick is awesome.





Agreed.  Most heartily agreed.


----------



## coyote6

Does/did Kormick's player (jonrog1, right?) write the notebook entries?


----------



## ellinor

coyote6 said:


> Does/did Kormick's player (jonrog1, right?) write the notebook entries?




A flattering question, Coyote6 -- thanks!  I wrote them, and jonrog1 made some enriching revisions.


----------



## Ilex

*3x02*

“She is able-bodied and skilled,” said Mena.  “I don’t see why Arden should not take a guard shift.”

Twiggy nodded.  “And she has as much incentive as the rest of us to stay safe.  Getting attacked hurts her the same as it hurts anyone.  Right?”  Twiggy looked at Arden, who was cleaning the pot from dinner.  Arden nodded, slightly, and looked down.

“Fine,” replied Kormick.  “If you want her on guard, Dame Mena, you share her shift.”

Mena did not care for Kormick’s dictatorial tone, but she had no objection to sharing a guard shift with Arden.  Arden was a member of their party, and her enslavement did not merit her special treatment any more than Rose’s wealth did for Rose.  Despite a lifetime in elitist Pol Henna, Mena relied only on deeds, not money or blood, as evidence of personal worth.  Good fortune, after all, could be a particularly clever way for the Fickle One to breed any number of evils.    

One by one, the party fell asleep, leaving Mena and Arden to watch the camp by the light of the comforting moon. 

They kept watch in silence for a time. An hour had passed, maybe more, when Arden spoke in a low voice, just barely loud enough for Mena to hear.  “Dame Filomena, please you . . . When those rats attacked, even though your job is to look out for Signora Roseanna, you helped everyone. I mean – even _me_. I've been wanting to thank you for that." 

Mena shrugged and replied, equally low, “I deserve no thanks for doing my duty.”  She paused, then continued, "I have no love of slavery, nor any respect for it as an institution. You are no less deserving of protection than Rose or Savina.”  Mena's gaze strayed to Rose, sleeping peacefully near the fire. 

For her part, Arden stared at Mena for a time, an unreadable look.  Then she followed Mena's gaze. “My will is not my own, Dame Filomena. I've learned not to make promises. But if I am allowed, I will help Signora Roseanna. She deserves to be free of this.”

Their conversation continued, quietly and guardedly, for several minutes before Mena spotted a faint and a flickering glow up ahead along the trail.  Arden nodded that she saw it also.  Was it some sort of signal-light?  They saw no other lights.  Could it be some sort of glowing bird?  Such strange animals were unsettlingly common in the Ketkath, but it seemed to be floating, more than flying.  Yes, perhaps a signal.  What else _could_ it be?

Arden gently woke Savina, and Mena rushed between the fires, waking the others.  The rat battle was fresh in their minds, and they wanted to be ready.  “It’s probably nothing,” Mena said as she woke Tavi, “but it’s better to be awake for nothing than asleep and dead.”

As the light floated closer, the group saw that it was actually two spherical objects, one white and one black.  The two balls circled each other, like fish in a pond.  As they approached, more orbs appeared behind them.  A pair of much larger large orbs circled in the center of the group.

“I have read that sheep travel with a leader in the middle of the group, rather than the front,” Twiggy offered, whispering.  “It is called a ‘bellwether.’”  She paused, as the group looked at her quizzically.  “Maybe this is a herd of black and white glowing balls, traveling between pastures—or whatever . . . and they will float right past us if we leave them alone.”

Kormick shook his head.  “Adorable.  She thinks they will float right past.”

“It could happen!”  Twiggy protested.

As the group waited, hands on weapons, the orbs floated toward the camp, then into the camp, among the party . . . then slowed to a halt, a large orb hovering over each fire. 

BAM!  The black orb slammed itself down with a sudden force on the fire, extinguishing it.  Moments later, the large white orb dove into the other fire, causing it to spark and burn with white-hot flame before running out of fuel with a sputter and pop.  

As the two large orbs rose up again in the moonlit darkness, the little ones went crazy.  First, the black orbs sped outward, concentrically.  “Duck!”  yelled Mena.

The group ducked and dodged as black orbs whizzed past their faces.  “They’re sure not sheep!” yelled Tavi as he dodged one.  

Kormick’s crossbows were up and his arms steady, as he held a pair in his sight.  As the black orbs flew outward, he stood fast.  The brief, casual tip of his head a few inches—then back upright, as a black orb whistled past his ear—betrayed a career spent dodging thrown objects.  He let two arrows fly, penetrating two black orbs almost at once.  They burst and disappeared.  “Two down!”  he yelled, readying his crossbows again.

All at once, the white orbs came to life, emitting bright, distinct beams of light in all directions.  One beam hit Twiggy, who screamed as pain seared her shoulder.  Rose screamed, too, as a beam seared her thigh.  

Mena sprang into action, slashing at the large black ball.  _We would have left you alone, whatever you are, if you hadn’t attacked us,_ she thought.  _Now you’ll know why that was a bad idea._  As her sword and Arden’s connected with the black ball, it shuddered, flickered, and fizzled to nothing.  The large white ball jumped and whirled in what seemed to be a sympathetic reaction.

Tavi’s sword glowed green as he focused on the orb in front of him.  “You want a fight?  Come and get a fight.”  He was ready when it charged him, blocking its rush with his sword.  The black ball dissolved.  But he was not ready for the next orb, or the one after.  They bludgeoned his chest and arm.  As Tavi checked the injury to his arm—blood seeped through his tunic—a beam of energy shot from Twiggy’s wand into the one of the orbs that had hit Tavi.  It dissolved like the first.  “That’ll show you,” he said.

When the large black orb came for him, Tavi held up his hand.  “Not this time,” he barked, as fire burst from his palm, dissolving the attacking orb.  

Savina mouthed a quiet “wow” as she finished a prayer, sending healing energy to all her allies. 

But the spheres were taking their toll.  Mena was surrounded; Kormick, his shoulder still bruised, was missing shots with his crossbow; and Twiggy was badly distracted by her burned arm.  “Pull it together!”  Mena urged, even as she fell back to avoid the spheres around her.  

Tavi responded.  He brandished his blade, flames dancing along its hilt, until two pairs of orbs were in range.  Then, with a swift stroke, he sliced through them.  Swirling fire engulfed the orbs, dissolving the black ones.  The white ones, however, glowed brighter, swelled, and exploded, raining fired down on Mena and Arden.  “Hey guys?”  Tavi announced, “don’t use fire on the white ones!”

Tavi had destroyed the last of the black orbs; only white ones remained.  _Fire,_ Mena thought, as the falling flame seared the backs of her scarred hands.  She gritted her teeth as its familiar pain caught her nerves and shot up her arms. _It had to be fire._

Arden’s blade needed no flame to hit its mark.  But as she impaled a white orb, it exploded as the last ones did, spraying flame at Tavi and Kormick.  The next one did the same as Tavi slashed it, bathing Tavi, Jan, and Mena in fire.  Arden, with a look of resignation, dispatched another and felt the inevitable searing of its death burst.  No one was spared.  They could not take much more of this.

Mena watched as Savina gaped at the party’s injuries and prepared another healing spell.  “We’re fine!”  yelled Mena.  “Just hit the darn things!”  But a moment later, she felt a surge of healing course through her, and saw energy rise in Tavi’s eyes as well.  _That girl may save our lives,_ Mena thought, _or she may get us all killed._

The last white orb began to move away.  Mena chased it.  _Whatever it is, it’s not going back to tell its friends about us._ Slice.  It exploded in a burst of white light and flame, burning Mena again.  

And then it was dark.  

The white orb of the moon hung above, now more ominous than comforting.  They slept uneasily.


----------



## WetWombat

Wow.  Just...wow!  Will-o-wisps with ATTITUDE!  

Well written, riviting!  I look forward to seeing what happens next! (And next, and after that, and so on!)

THE Wombat! (Wet)


----------



## coyote6

Sounds sort of like energons, too; but I don't remember anything about 'em besides the positive/negative energy connections. In any case, a nice freaky encounter (painful-sounding, too!).


----------



## Ilex

ellinor has indeed done a great job of capturing the riveting freakiness of this encounter.  And (in my/Arden's opinion) things only get freakier... 

Thanks for the comments!


----------



## Ilex

*3x03*



> *Excerpts from the notebook of Jan Kormick:*
> 
> March 23 24 days of food.
> Terrain:  mountains --> high plains.
> 
> If the rats were any indication, the creatures of the Ketkath really have it in for us.  Now it appears that the Ketkath’s inanimate objects must have it in for us as well.  We were attacked last night by black and white spheres, like nothing I had ever seen before.  The black ones bludgeoned and the white ones exploded.  At best, it was uncomfortably reminiscent of this region’s approach to Kettenite theology.  At worst…we still have no sense as to who sent the things, or if they were capable of free will.
> 
> On a positive note, young Savina demonstrated her impressive healing capabilities, treating the party’s severe burn injuries with relative dispatch.  That girl continues to surprise me.  The slave, Arden, was very effective in battle, but the journey has weakened her considerably.
> 
> March 24 23 days of food.
> Terrain: high plains.
> Arden collapsed today.  Overheard her muttering that the slippers are cursed;  she's ditched them.
> 
> March 25 22 days of food.
> Terrain: high rocky plains w/ large boulders.
> 
> We have found a cave, and will rest for the day.  The cave contains signs of humanoid inhabitants, decades abandoned.  Wall paintings with white and black dots, also flying lizards.  It also contains a largeish amount of raw residuum (Chelesta calls it “god’s breath”), of which we take a small amount for refining.  Mena believes the cave housed “old ones,” natives who were forcibly converted/exterminated by Soveriegns.
> 
> The more I learn about the Sovereigns, the more it seems to me that they need a taste of justice.
> 
> Tavi and Chelesta will forage for food.
> 
> March 26 23.5 days of food.
> Terrain:  high rocky plains.
> 
> Into the area of red “X” on Ehktian map.  Some signs of life:  tiny lizards (multicolored), green-eared rabbits.  Occasional humanoid footprints.  Mena examined prints in detail (size, depth, comparative depth front to back, stride…she is very thorough).  She thinks they are primate.  If that is not strange enough, the ground is strewn with the bleached remains of old trees—tall, once, but now on their sides as if some larger-than-life monster plucked them up like weeds.  They were uprooted long ago, with marks and gouges near their tops.  Like many things here, it makes no sense.
> 
> We will sleep without fire.  Now is not the time to draw the attention of primates or become aphids to some gargantuan gardener.
> 
> March 28 21.5 days of food.
> Terrain:  high plains.
> 
> Slept without fire for second night.  It is very cold.  Arden said “the trick is just to resign yourself to it.”  Where did she learn to withstand cold?  Not balmy Pol Henna.
> 
> March 29 20.5 days of food.
> Terrain: high plains.
> Uneventful.
> 
> March 30 19.5 days of food.
> Terrain: high plains, occasional trees.
> 
> My purse is lighter by one gold piece, as our trek carried us past the massive, sun-dried skeleton of a dragon.  Chelesta seemed surprised as I handed her the spoils of our wager.  Did she think I would not honor the debt?  I never lie.
> 
> Slave’s bare feet remain sore and blistered.  Slipper curse unlikely.
> 
> March 31 18.5 days of food.
> Terrain:  more frequent trees.
> 
> We have made good progress, and have only one more day’s travel before reaching the outer edges of where we might find the Spring.  Today is a rest day, before embarking on the more challenging terrain ahead.  Savina and Tavi foraged for food, but found little.  No surprise:  they are not exactly wilderness scouts.  Mena and I also foraged, finding and butchering something I can only liken to a deer with antlers that emit sparks.  What madman invented these animals?
> 
> Chelesta cooks while the slave sleeps.  She has found some tasty herbs and is a more refined cook than the slave, although the slave is competent and our provisions are not prone to embellishment.  Chelesta speaks of a childhood in the di Vittani kitchen.  (Presumably, then, she was born in service.)  She is also trained in alchemy.  It is apparent that the di Vittanis devoted great resources to their servant’s training.
> 
> A curious amount of resources, actually.  Note: ask Dame Mena precisely why we're bringing Rose's lady-in-waiting into a hostile wilderness.  Actually, note-on-note: Dame Mena is ... precise.  There must be a reason this particular party is made up of these particular people, beyond the bounds of kinship or friendship. Hmm.
> 
> Savina is particularly shy around Tavi.  He seems not to notice.  This reflects either a great deal of experience in ignoring young women, or a rare level of obliviousness.
> 
> April 1 20 days of food.
> Terrain:  rocky, forested.  Uphill.
> 
> Today’s trek brought us into the area in which we might find the Spring.
> 
> It would appear that “Alirria’s path” may have a literal meaning of some sort.  Savina has observed that in this region, each young tree has buds only on the south sides of its branches.
> 
> We will turn south.
> 
> We are marching through the most dangerous mountains in the world led by a girl who forgot to pack boots.  I have had better ideas ...




Arden surveyed the soles of her feet before donning her packs.  Dust and dirt had seeped into the dry cracks of her calluses, making her soles black.  Washing did little to help:  the dirt was too deep, and she needed the calluses to protect her feet from ever-present splinters.  And anyway, since they had left the river’s edge, their increasingly scarce water was better used for drinking and cooking.  

For the last several days, she had been barefoot.  _Damned silk slippers,_ she thought. _More harm than good._ The slippers had chafed at her feet and ankles, making her soles feel as if they were on fire and raising blisters the size of coins. Blessedly, the blisters had healed, but her feet still ached.  She missed her boots, which now cradled Savina’s tender toes.

Arden rushed to her feet, a bedroll in one hand and a pack in the other, as Mena approached.  “How are you feeling?” Mena asked.

_I think she really wants to know,_ Arden thought, _but the truth would not help anyone._  “Fine, Dame Filomena, and ready to set off,” she replied, shouldering her packs.  Years of practice had taught her to wince on the inside.

“It’s Mena,” the Defier replied, kindly, as they followed the rest of the group out of the camp. 

_As long as you want to explain to the Blessed Daughter why I address you with such disrespectful familiarity_, Arden thought toward Mena's back.  She appreciated the gesture, though.

They walked for most of the day in relative silence.  The terrain was rocky, and Arden had to watch her footing to avoid stepping on shards. Mena occasionally stopped to examine a footprint, Twiggy occasionally stopped to examine a plant, and Kormick occasionally stopped to read the map or make a note in his book.  _Who is he writing that book for?_ Arden wondered.   

As the sun began its afternoon descent, their path gradually became a canyon, with jagged tree-lined ledges above.  As the ledges grew taller, Arden began to marvel at the scenery.  _I know it’s not a vacation,_ she thought, _but if someone had told me this time last year that I would be roaming the wilderness, well-fed, with people who ask how I am feeling, I would not have believed them._  She put away her fears and forgot her soreness, following a shadow up the cliff-wall to the green trees above.  _It’s beautiful._

But as she watched the tree-line, she began to see movement.  There was something in the trees above them, ahead of them, moving at the same pace they were.  Someone was following them.


----------



## Ilex

3x03 posted early, because for separate reasons, ellinor and I will both be away from all internet contact for the next day or two.  Pray for us...


----------



## jonrog1

Do you think this blatant campaign of pro-Arden posts will get Kormick to trust her?  Nice bloody try! I look forward to his vindication when she poisons the soup ...


----------



## Ilex

It isn't poison.  It's more like a sleeping potion.  Sort of.  At any rate, you all always wake up the next day feeling refreshed and none the wiser, so I really wouldn't worry about it if I were you.  Just keep trusting me with the cooking, gentlefolk.  Keep trusting.


----------



## ellinor

*3x04*

A shape poked out of the trees, toward the ledge.  It was a shape Arden had never seen before.  Was it an animal?  A person?  It had hair like an animal, but stood on two feet, its long arms dangling almost to the ground.  Horns protruded from its head.  It seemed to be watching her.  “Dame Filomena?” she asked Mena, pointing to the ridge, “do you see that?”

A rock clattered down from above.

Then another.

Mena got the group’s attention.  “Stop.  These may not be simple falling rocks.” She turned to Arden.  “What did you see?”  

“I’m not sure,” Arden replied, “but it had horns.”

“These may be the humanoids whose tracks we saw earlier,” Mena observed.  “We should not assume they are friendly,” she continued, glaring at Twiggy.  “We should scout ahead to see whether it is safe to continue.  Arden?”

_Of course, send the expendable one,_ thought Arden.

“ . . . And Kormick?”  Mena continued, “See what you can on the path ahead.”

_Better,_ thought Arden, realizing that Mena had just assigned her a trusted role.

CRASH!  As Arden and Kormick got about 100 yards in front of the group, a boulder smashed at Arden’s feet, and—BAM!—another hurtled from above, hitting Kormick on the head.  He stumbled, dazed, and stopped.  “We must go back,” he said, blinking his eyes and feeling around the large bloody gash left by the rock.  “I can hardly see to know what is ahead.”  He put his arm out and Arden steadied him.  _Happy to help, Alleged,_ she thought.

Savina gasped when the pair returned, and immediately began chanting a healing spell.  She put her hands near Kormick’s head, and a warm blue glow surrounded his injury, which stopped bleeding immediately.  

But Kormick did not have time to thank her before a howl—howls—arose from every direction.  Rocks and boulders began to rain down on the party.

Tavi was first hit, as a large stone slammed into his chest.  Another hit Kormick, in the leg.  They were coming from everywhere.  As Twiggy ran forward, a boulder crashed into the back of the leg, pinning her to the ground.  She struggled, but could not move.  “I need hel—” she yelled, before ducking and covering her head to protect it from flying debris.

A scream erupted behind Arden as Savina, too, was pinned.  An immovably large boulder had crushed Savina’s foot and ankle, holding her to the spot.  But Arden had no time to think about the fate of her boot underneath that boulder:  another stone was flying toward her.  She tried to dodge, but lost her balance and fell, bruising her hip.  As she stumbled to her feet, she reached for her sling and shot at one of the beasts.  The stone flew true and hit one of the beasts in the face.  _Turnabout,_ she thought.

Kormick, limping from his bruised leg, retaliated as well.  Two of his crossbow bolts reached the beasts.  But there were too many of them.  Rocks showered down like a small avalanche, blocking the path ahead.  Even if they beat back the creatures, they would not be able to continue on the path.  Mena, closest to the rockfall, turned and pointed.  “Back the way we came!”  she hollered, pointing with her sword.

Jan turned back to help Twiggy, who was alternately cowering and prying stones under the boulder in an attempt to wedge it off her leg.  With a grunt, Kormick pushed it away and freed the girl.  “Come, young lady,” he said, “let us get you—”  

As Kormick watched, a rock flying straight for his head suddenly turned, as if batted away by an enormous invisible hand.  Twiggy grinned with pride, a faint shimmer in the air the only outward sign of the arcane forces she had brought to bear.  “Yes, let’s,” she said.  They ran back along the trail, the way they had come.  Mena and Arden followed.

Tavi wedged his back under the rock pinning Savina, and pushed.  It rose just enough for Savina to free her foot.  “Here,” he said, offering his shoulder to support her.  She limped behind him, blushing.

As the group retreated, the rock shower stopped.  The creatures receded back behind the ridge.  Apart from the party’s labored breathing, the canyon was entirely silent.

They paused for healing, and to drink from their water skins.  They’d have to double back by nearly a day’s journey to get out of the canyon and on a different path toward where they hoped the spring might be.  Arden looked down at her blackened feet.  _Another day,_ she thought.

###

Twiggy took off her glasses to get a closer look at a leaf.  It was violet, with green veins.  The plants had been lining their path for nearly two days, since they had turned off the canyon trail where the ape-goat-things had attacked them.  _The plant life here is amazing,_ she thought,  turning the unfamiliar leaf in her fingers.  _And unlike the animals, it isn’t trying to kill us._

Trekking had been surprisingly easy for Twiggy.  Her joints had ached, at first, unaccustomed to the heavy packs and constant pace, but over time, it became familiar and even fun.  The problem was that they didn’t know where they were going.  The paths through the mountains were walkable, if obscure, but they were made by those fascinating electrical deer rather than by people, and there was no way to know whether they led toward their goal. Every morning, the party gathered around the maps, plotting their route for the day.  And every day—with the exception of that one day when the tree buds had all been on one side of the trees—they had no idea whether they were really going in the right direction.  It was unsettling.  How were they supposed to walk the path of Alirria when Alirria was so stingy with information about her path? 

Twiggy’s musings were interrupted by a yelp from Kormick.  “Halloo?  What have we here?”  He was standing at the edge of a dry stream bed.  It was clear that the stream had not run for some time – plants grew through and around it with no signs that it had been their water supply – but the pattern of large and small stones had unmistakably been left, long ago, by flowing water.  

_Alirria is all about water,_ Twiggy thought, _and this stream doesn’t have any water._  “We should go away from it, at a right angle,” she suggested.  “Right?  Just like we went away from the barren sides of the branches?”  She looked to Savina for confirmation.

Tavi jumped in.  “This is different.  There, we were going toward the direction of the leaves.  This is a streambed, or was one.  I say we follow it back to where its origin used to be.”  The hummingbird flitted just ahead of him, apparently already on her way.

Savina considered both options.  “I can’t be sure,” she said.  “It is a streambed, but it is dry . . .”

Tavi swung his pack higher on his shoulder and gave a beckoning wave.  “This way it is,” he said, heading up the streambed.  The group followed.  

“But . . . did we really . . . are we sure . . . didn’t Savina say…?”  Twiggy tried to form the right question as she gathered her pack to catch up.  Tavi was usually pretty quiet.  It seemed a strange time for him to assert his authority. _But he is the ranking member of the group,_ Twiggy thought.  _Even out here, blood matters._

“We can always come back this way if it seems wrong,” Mena said, quietly.

After several hours’ quiet hiking, they reached a pile of stones, where it seemed the stream had been blocked.  It looked like a natural rockfall.  _Symbolic,_ Twiggy thought.  _Or maybe it was the work of the Sovereigns.  Maybe this is the way to the Spring, after all._  A scramble up the stones revealed a glen, grassy and clear, with tall trees ringing a crystalline lake.  The sun, beginning to fall below the tops of the tallest trees, cast shadows across the lake, which glistened in its stillness.  A waterfall splashed down the far side, with a _shushing_ sound.

Twiggy dipped her finger in the water as they walked by.  It was cool, refreshing.  

A lake, Chelesta, with clean water!  Maybe we can take a bath!  Maybe everyone can take a bath!  Or at least, definitely, Kormick.  Really, some baths would be very much in order, Acorn suggested.

_Maybe, Acorn,_ Twiggy thought, _but at the very least, we have found a beautiful place to camp for the night.  I guess I was wrong.  This has to have been the right direction.  Just look at it, Acorn.  It’s beautiful._

They set up camp near the lakeside, and prepared for an evening meal.  It was quiet.  Restful.

And that’s when the giant tree attacked them.


----------



## Seonaid

No rest for the wicked!


----------



## WetWombat

Seonaid said:


> No rest for the wicked!




Which is why, as Durkon of Order of the Stick fame knows, you can NEVER turn your back on trees! 

THE Wombat! (Wet)


----------



## Seonaid

WetWombat said:


> Which is why, as Durkon of Order of the Stick fame knows, you can NEVER turn your back on trees!
> 
> THE Wombat! (Wet)



What were they thinking, camping so close to the trees?


----------



## WisdomLikeSilence

Tree.  We camped next to a tree.  It was perfect picnic spot, with a nice grassy feel, and some shade from the lovely old tree with new leaves on its branches.

Really, can't some weary travellers catch a break now and then?

(sigh)


----------



## Seonaid

What were they thinking, camping so close to the tree?


----------



## Fajitas

If anyone's curious about the mechanics behind the rock attack, that was a Skill Challenge I had a particular amount of fun designing (which Piratecat cribbed in his own campaign recently). Details are below:



> *Skill Challenge: Run to avoid the falling rocks—12 successes before 3 failures*
> Each Round, rocks are thrown at you.  If you are hit, you may take damage, or you may be pinned (determined randomly by the DM).  All pinned characters must be released by using one of the listed Release Skills before the challenge can be beaten.  Releasing a character does not count as a success toward the challenge.
> 
> Primary Skills:
> Acrobatics- DC 10
> Athletics- DC 10
> Any distance attack- DC 15 (force a creature to dodge, rather than throwing rocks)
> 
> Release Skills:
> Athletics- DC 15
> Heal- DC 10 (they aren’t pinned, they’ve just twisted something)
> Any push, pull, slide power or Mage Hand- DC 15
> 
> Secondary:
> Perception- DC 10, give another player +2 to avoid falling rocks
> 
> Rock attack: +6 vs Reflex, 1d10+3 damage
> Hidden Secondary Skill- Intimidate, DC 15, draw 2 attacks from other PCs


----------



## Jenber

Fajitas said:


> Rock attack: +6 vs Reflex, 1d10+3 damage
> Hidden Secondary Skill- Intimidate, DC 15, draw 2 attacks from other PCs




Wait...you mean we could have used Intimidate to help with that?  Well crap.

What other secondary skills are you keeping from us in these things?  I will now try Intimidate and History in all challenge situations.  I might even try intimidating with my masterful knowledge of history.  Or possibly intimidating people INTO history.


----------



## ellinor

*3x05*

CRAAACK!  The earth shuddered with a GROAN as an enormous tree—ten times taller than the big beech tree at the di Raprezzi estate—RIPPED itself from the ground.  It lurched forward, leaves rustling like a herd of horses and roots thumping on the ground with sickening force.  _This can’t be happ—_ Twiggy thought, as the tree whirled around, branches flying, ripping Twiggy’s dress, arms, chest, thighs—

_I spoke too soon._ She felt the searing pain of her torn flesh and heard her own voice scream in pain.  _The plant life here *is* trying to kill us._  She reached into her pouch for her orb and looked around quickly.  The whirling branches had sliced Arden—blood was already soaking through the slave’s sleeves—and—NO!—had torn into Rose’s leg, as well.  _I have to do something,_ Twiggy thought, pulling her orb out of its pouch,_before it kills us all.

She pulled force into the orb with her mind, squinted with determination, and released it.  A wave of power radiated from the orb, visibly warping the air and—THUD—slamming into the tree.  The tree tilted back, dented – but its branches whipped forward, slicing Twiggy’s neck as the tree righted itself.

Twiggy’s hand flew to her neck.  She could feel the blood forcing itself through her fingers, warm and wet down her sleeve. I hurt the tree, a little, she thought, but it’s nearly killed me in less than five seconds.  The world swam, and she felt weak.  Her knees hit the ground, one.  Two.  Acorn’s voice rang in her head.  Chelesta! Chelesta! Chelesta! Chelesta! Chelesta! Chelesta!  Twiggy couldn’t think to answer as she rolled from the reach of the tree.  The pain throbbed across her body.  It was worse than anything she had ever felt before.  Worse than breaking her leg in the di Raprezzi’s coal chute when she was six.  Worse than falling out of that big beech.  Much worse than the burn from those flying orbs or the scrape from that boulder.  But all of those pains went through her head as she tried to react, and couldn’t.  All she could do was watch.   

But the others had mobilized around her.  Mena, with an inspiring word of “KILL IT!” slashed with her sword.  Branches snapped and dangled.  Tavi leapt over a swinging branch and threw his sword up into the branches of the tree.  Leaves, boughs, chips flew everywhere as the glowing sword whirled among them and returned to Tavi’s hand.  Flaming bolts from Kormick’s crossbow flew past Tavi’s head and sank into the tree’s trunk, smoldering.  

Twiggy’s shoulder exploded in pain again, but as she looked up, she saw that it was Savina, reaching down and pulling her further from danger.  She felt the warm glow of Savina’s healing prayers.  Then Savina stood up, reached her hands to the sky, and called upon Alirria’s lance of faith.  “Alirria!  Great mother, send us your strength!” A blue ray of light pierced the twilight and split down the top of the tree, which flailed and whipped, slicing at Savina and pushing Arden down to the ground among its roots.  Arden—her injuries impeding her mobility, but not her fury— jabbed her shortsword into the roots.  Sap spurted out, splashing Arden.  She slashed again, and sap flew everywhere, soaking both Arden and the already-bloody soil.

“We’ve got it where we want it,” Tavi announced, as green flames erupted from his sword.  That might be a bit…optimistic, Twiggy thought, but as Tavi’s sword ignited several small branches, and Kormick’s arrows tore into bark, Twiggy realized her mind was beginning to clear.  Fire seems to work.  If only I could…wait.  Maybe I can...  She cast an illusory attack,, creating the illusion of a blaze surrounding the tree on all sides.  The tree whipped and whirled to avoid the imaginary flames, as two more of Kormick’s crossbow bolts ripped into its trunk.

But then WHUMP.  An enormous root thumped on the ground, smashing into Tavi’s ankle and denting the earth beside him.  Leaves and branches flew up like splashes on a pond.  Tavi fell, stood up, and WHUMP, the tree bashed his head, knocking him back to the ground.  He crawled away from the roots’ deadly range, his ankle limp. “Tavi!”  Savina screamed, seeing the trickle of blood along his temple.  She looked pained herself as she rushed to his side, touching him with the blue glow of healing energy.

“I’ve had about enough of this,” said Mena, sounding as if the tree had just acted up in class—and then she let loose with a string of invective like Twiggy had never heard.  I don’t know what those words mean, but they don’t sound respectable at all! Acorn thought, shocked.  It means she wants us to do our best,Twiggy thought in response.  And we will..  Tavi stood up, looking strong and determined, and brandished his blade just as he did in exercises.  Twiggy lurched forward and cast again.  The tree reared back, and Tavi—with the surgical precision Twiggy knew he had—sliced through the joints of the largest branch, which snapped and dangled like an arm from a dislocated shoulder.  

Savina—fury plain on her face—called to Alirria again.  “This tree has betrayed you!”  Another beam of light pierced down, splitting the tree in two, down to the ground.  The group scattered to avoid falling limbs and branches, which thundered down.  CRASH.  CRUNCH.  THUD.  

It didn’t move again.  

Acorn peeked out from Twiggy’s pocket to survey the wreckage.  That was completely uncalled for, he said.  Twiggy smiled slightly, proud of what she knew was Acorn’s best attempt at bravery.  Think of it this way, she thought in reply, we faced peril, and we survived it.  Now we know we can.

“Arden, bring me that,” said Mena, pointing to one of the smaller pieces of the tree's wreckage at Arden’s feet.  Arden staggered over with the log, and Mena threw it on to the fire.  It ignited with a crackle, and flames rose, brightening the camp with a light to match the setting sun.  “Let that be a warning,” she announced.

“If you want,” Kormick said, “we can break some rocks to warn off the other inanimate objects.”  He sounded almost serious.  

###

The next day was a rest day.  Although it meant slowing their journey, the group needed the rest as well as the food that might be found by foraging in the surrounding forest.  Twiggy was glad for the pause in their journey; she needed to do a little thinking before the trek continued.  Is this what adventure means? she asked herself, looking at the splintered branches and mottled earth behind their lakeside camp, and touching the places where Savina had healed her.  It was scary, and exhilarating.

As the rest of the group rotated sleep and watch duty, Twiggy and Arden went out in search of food.  For a long time, both were lost in their own thoughts.   

Arden jumped in pain, stifling a gasp, as a large splinter dug into her bare foot.  Twiggy insisted on stopping to assess the injury.

As they paused, Twiggy spoke up. "I'm glad we got to forage together," she said. "I think you're interesting."

Arden was silent.

"I mean, you're a slave, but you're very competent." 

Arden looked at her, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't mean to say that slaves aren't competent.  Some are extremely talented.  But at things like working in the garden, not things like jumping and fighting.  Maybe slaves in Pol Thane, I suppose, but . . . In our house, anyway, the slaves mostly do the things the servants won't." 

Arden paused for a long time. "Slaves have to be good at all that, all the stuff our owners want, but we also have to be good at . . . call it survival."

After a few more steps, Twiggy spoke up again.  "If you don't mind my asking, what did you do before you were a slave?  I mean, you weren't born a slave.  Or were you?  Born a slave?"

"No."  Arden spoke quietly.  

The conversation continued, more pauses than words, as the pair shared careful slivers of their respective histories.  Twiggy relished the chance to learn more, not only about Arden, but also about the institution of slavery.  Her questions at home had, for the most part, been met with platitudes about “necessity” and “practicality” – and pointed interjections from Acorn about how the world would be “chaos” without slaves.  Now, she had a source, albeit a shy one.

After hours of searching, Twiggy found evidence of some tubers that looked and smelled familiar, and they dug together in silence. There was a good stash of them, and some empirical testing proved that they were not only safe, but also passably tasty, like sweet potatoes.

"I'm beginning to see why Dona Giovanna was a Questor," Twiggy changed the subject, her mouth half-full of tuber. "There are so many interesting things out here!"

"Yes, interesting," Arden allowed.

"And the idea that we can go out and face these things that could kill us, and then we survive …" she trailed off.

"Yes," Arden said, "that moment when you discover that you are not a brittle thing, that you won't snap when you're stretched." She seemed far away. "That is a good moment."

They walked in silence for a long time after that, each lost in thought, until something caught Twiggy’s eye.  "Hey," she said, "what's that?"

Arden saw it too. "Looks like an old campsite. Really old.  And . . . by the Gods, is that skeleton wearing BOOTS?”

###

When Arden and Twiggy arrived back at the camp, their packs were full not only with tubers but also a number of interesting items they'd discovered on the bodies they had found at the abandoned campsite—three long dead Questors.  It was after midday, and the others were awake.  Tavi was doing sword-work drills, as Mena looked on.  Savina and Rose were chatting.  Kormick was writing in his little book.  What does he write in that book? Arden thought, for the hundredth time.

The group gathered around to allocate the Questor gear.  Mena began to examine the armor, and Tavi and Twiggy set about identifying the magic items.  “The slave, of course, will keep the boots,” began Kormick, after Tavi confirmed that the boots, though sturdy, had no magical properties. Praise the gods, thought Arden.  The boots were too big for her, but she couldn't care less.  Kormick continued, “Twiggy should take the orbs and whatnot,” He motioned to the <i>orb of insurmountable force</i> and <i>chime of awakening</i> that Twiggy was already fingering, “and…” He was interrupted by a hissing sound coming from Mena’s direction.  Everyone turned to look.

Mena had put her hand inside the armor’s sleeve.  The patterns that had been decorating the armor had changed, and now looked less like Ehktian symbols and more like mouths, which whispered after Mena, echoing her mutterings.  “Soft… soft, soft.  Pretty flexible…exible, exible, exible.”  Mena stopped, took a deep breath, wrapped the armor over her shoulder, and yelled.  The armor yelled with her, a dozen voices screaming, overlapping.

“…And Dame Mena should take the armor,” Kormick continued, with a look of awe that Arden didn’t recall ever seeing on him before.  As Mena replaced her own armor with the new set, its shapes and patterns re-formed, gradually dissolving from Questor symbols, to mouths, and finally resolving into the symbols of the Defiers.

“This is a Circlet of Second Chances,” Tavi said, holding up a slim headband.  “I’ll just…”  He tied it around his head to a chorus of nods and assents from the assembled group. 

“And this cape allows the wearer to teleport over short distances,” Twiggy offered, holding up the last of the items.

It looks warm, too, thought Arden, envisioning herself wrapped cozily in the magical garment.  Of course, Alleged would never let me have something like that… she looked out to see Kormick holding it in front of her face.

“Take it,” he said, pushing the cape toward her. “This way we can send you straight into the middle of the fray in our next altercation.”

Arden paused.  . . . That was unexpected, she thought, and then grabbed the cape before anyone could object.  “Thank you, Justicar,” she responded, throwing the warm fabric over her shoulders.  “Thank you.”

He held up his crossbow.  “It won’t get you out of range.  You know that.”

Arden fingered the cuff on her wrist.   “I understand, Justicar.” 

“Savina,” Tavi suggested, “you should wear Mena’s old armor.”

Savina looked skeptically at the armor Mena had shed, with its large Sedellan symbol on the breastplate, but she reluctantly agreed to try it on.  It fit, physically, but Savina looked uncomfortable, touching the Defiers’ symbol gingerly as if it might jump out and bite her.  

Twiggy approached.  “I think I can help.”  She cast a quick prestidigitation, and the armor shimmered for a moment. The Defiers’ symbol disappeared, replaced by a lattice of green vines with blue flowers, surrounding the symbol of the Givers. “Better?”  Twiggy asked, with pride.

“Well,” she began, tentatively, “It would be safer.  I suppose I can try wearing it—at least until we find the families of those Questors, and return the other armor to them, along with the rest of these things.”

“Naturally, at least until then,” Kormick replied, muttering to himself, “adorable.”

Arden agreed.  Adorable._


----------



## Rughat

> “Well,” she began, tentatively, “It would be safer. I suppose I can try wearing it—at least until we find the families of those Questors, and return the other armor to them, along with the rest of these things.”
> 
> “Naturally, at least until then,” Kormick replied, muttering to himself, “adorable.”
> 
> Arden agreed.  _Adorable._




... Wow.  I've never thought of taking that angle.  That's... that's BRILLIANT!  "We can't take this stuff of the dead skeletons - the next of kin must be notified!"  I want you folks to get a dragon's hoard so she can try to figure out who gets each gold!


----------



## Fajitas

Thanks Rughat.  I realized with some shock several sessions in that Savina is both Lawful Good (I'd orginally thought she was Neutral Good) and that she is the first Lawful Good character I've ever played.  There is something really delightful about being so genuinely sweet and innocent.

Luckily, the rest of the gaming group seems to find her more amusing then annoying.


----------



## Fajitas

And sorry - that last post was from WisdomLikeSilence.  I'm borrowing Fajita's computer while we travel.


----------



## Seonaid

I was like, "What?!? Fajitas is playing, not running?!?"


----------



## Ilex

*4x01*

"I have an idea," Kormick announced.  

Mena finished buckling on her new greaves and turned to listen.  "We build a small raft," Kormick continued.  "We paddle out to the middle of the lake.  We tie a rope around the midsection of young Master Octavian.  We lower him into the water to see if he spots the ruins of an ancient Alirrian shrine down in the murky depths."

"No," said Mena.

"Why not?  He's a strong youth, good lungs, his armor would weigh him down beautifully –"

"No."

"How about we lower _you_?" Tavi asked Kormick.

"Swimming is not a popular hobby in Dar Und.  Drowning, yes.  And certainly our waterways are useful for the concealment of corpses that one would rather not see rotting in the streets and provoking uncomfortable investigations.  But I do not swim."

"You'll have a rope tied around you," Tavi pointed out.

Kormick hesitated, then allowed:  "Perhaps there is another way to determine if this is the site of Alirria's spring."

Savina stepped forward.  "I – I prayed to Alirria this morning about it, but I didn't feel anything special.  This place just – just doesn't feel very holy to me."  Hearing Savina's usual shyness in her voice, Mena thought, _I must reassure the child that her ideas are always welcome._

"I would rather rely on empirical testing than prayer," said Kormick.

"I – I could be wrong," said Savina. "What did Kettenek tell you?"

Kormick stared at Savina.  "Um, yes," he said.  "Kettenek's proclamations are – vague on this point."

"Since when does Kettenek issue _vague_ proclamations?" demanded Tavi.

Rose spoke up.  "Regardless of Kettenek, my mother is rarely vague.  She told me once that the spring was in a small vale.  The water had no inlet or outlet.  This place –" Rose pointed to the thundering waterfall that spilled out of the lake to the west " – has an outlet."

Tavi had been staring at the lake speculatively.  "Isn't it possible that the rockslide dammed the spring and created this lake?  Maybe I _should_ take a look –"

"You aren't going diving," Mena declared in exasperation.  "A _tree_ attacked us.  No telling what the fish would do."

"This place just – just doesn't feel right," insisted Savina.

Twiggy, who had been studying the shoreline, spoke up.  "If this place had flooded in the last twenty years, we'd see the stumps of trees in the water.  It looks to me like this lake has been here a lot longer than our lifetimes."

"Daughter Savina," said Mena, "did your prayers this morning give you any inspiration about where we _should_ go?"

Savina hesitated.  Mena looked at her kindly and steadily, not pushing her but not letting her off the hook, either.  The others, mercifully, stayed silent.

"Well," the girl said finally, "we – we were following the buds on the trees, because they're a sign of Alirria.  Water belongs to her, too.  So following the water should keep us on Alirria's path."

"I like that idea," said Mena.  Tavi nodded, and with that, the decision was made.

They set out the next morning, clambering down the rocky slope beside the rushing waterfall and then following the fast-flowing stream west through the thick forest.  Kormick, in the lead, winced as a branch whacked him in the face.  "If this is Alirria's path," he grumbled, "then, if we all die horribly, I suppose that's Alirria's will?"

"That wouldn't be very Alirrian!" burst out Savina.

Kormick chuckled.  

Hours later, near midday, they heard a distinct cooing sound to the north.  It stood out against the normal background of the forest's noises, resonant and jubilant.  

"Mating calls," declared Kormick, after listening carefully.

"Well," said Savina, "if we followed the budding trees, and we followed the water, now we should follow the sex."

Tavi burst into laughter as Phoebe darted off in the direction of the bird calls. 

"It's – it's simply Alirria's way," Savina explained, stricken.

"No, I'm laughing at Phoebe.,” Tavi replied.  “She said, 'At least _someone_'s having fun around here.'"

They turned north.  

###

The next day, when they arose, a column of smoke lay lazily against the morning sky, rising from a spot several dales farther north, near their planned route.

The young people were intrigued and eager to hit the trail.  Mena, Kormick, and Arden exchanged wary glances, sure that this meant trouble.  

"Slave," said Kormick, "hike over there and scream if anything kills you."  Arden surprised Mena by raising her eyebrows in the barest hint of amused defiance, but Mena knew that Arden couldn’t refuse an order, even one apparently made in jest.   There was more to that girl than she let on, and the Defier was curious.  She was also a little tired of Kormick's jokes at Arden's expense.

"Rose, the safest choice is for you to send Whisper."

Rose nodded in agreement, and raised the pseudo-dragon on her arm.  After a quiet moment of communication, Whisper coasted off toward the smoke.  The others broke camp as they waited.

Whisper returned about half an hour later, making a steep dive down to Rose's shoulder and staring at her intensely.

"Oh!" said Rose, startled.  She quickly contained herself, but caught the group's eyes.  "Um, Whisper says – there isn't much to see – "  Rose glanced sharply to the side of the clearing, a warning look.  

Tavi stiffened.  Mena slid her eyes in the direction of Rose's gaze.  Although she saw nothing, she recognized the warning in Rose’s eyes and casually dropped her hand to her flail.  

"Slave," said Kormick, a bit louder than necessary, "we need firewood." 

Arden bowed her head without hesitation.  "Yes, Justicar," she said, sliding her hand to the dagger on her belt and walking to the opposite side of the clearing, away from Rose's glance.  _The one time he sincerely sends her into danger_, Mena thought, _she knowingly goes in._ Arden was stealthy and careful, of course, and it was a wise choice for the Justicar to send her.  But how curious that the girl seemed to have no trouble facing danger for her companions when it was necessary.  Mena had known warriors who lacked that kind of courage.  Admirable, and an interesting puzzle.

Arden vanished among the trees.

Silence fell.

"That troublesome slave," said Kormick, heartily.

Silence.

"Um, so, Savina," said Tavi, "how's that new armor working out?"

Suddenly, from the trees that Rose had marked with her gaze, Arden cried out, unmistakably in pain.  Then came the crashing sound of someone running.

Mena was off in a heartbeat – sparing a glance to confirm that Tavi wouldn’t budge from his spot shielding Rose.  Kormick ran close behind Mena.  They plunged into the trees and saw Arden crumpled on the ground, a vicious-looking arrow protruding from her upper arm.  "That way," Arden gasped, pointing unnecessarily, since whoever had shot her was making a loud retreat through the underbrush.

Mena followed.  She leaped over logs and shoved past thick branches as if they weren't there, ignoring the strikes on her face.  Kormick fell behind, but Mena only ran faster;  she was gaining on her quarry.  She glimpsed him ahead:  someone with short legs, stocky. Someone, in other words, not as fast as she was.

Then the little archer tripped.  Mena raced forward as he stood up, saw her, and raised his crossbow to make a stand.  He was the size of a dwarf, but although he had a long mustache, he lacked a beard.  Mena closed with him in three strides and shoved past his bow, grabbing the topknot on the dome of his head and yanking.  Hard.

He staggered and growled. 

Kormick caught up, staring at Mena, his mouth dropping open less in exhaustion than in sheer appreciation.  "You are an incredibly attractive woman," he gasped.

Mena grinned grimly, and yanked the topknot again, not so much to cause pain as to remind the little man that he had her attention, and that that was not the most enviable position.  Her armor roiled and hissed.  Her captive growled again and snapped at her. 

"Careful," said Kormick to him.  "This insane yet undeniably mesmerizing harridan will gut you where you stand.  And if she leaves you your tongue, perhaps next you and I will have a little chat."  

The prisoner growled once more:  words this time.  _It's Dwarven_, Mena realized.  _Horribly corrupt Dwarven.  Which makes you, my friend, a derro_.

"He doesn't understand you," she told Kormick.  "But he'll understand me."

She let go of the derro's topknot, reached down, and grabbed the creature in a decidedly different location.  She twisted.  He shrieked.  

"You hurt one of my friends," explained Mena in calm Dwarven, as if speaking to a child.

"Unhand!  Unhand!" the derro wailed.  "Find you all, death come under!"

"Something below the ground is apparently going to kill us all," Mena translated for Kormick.  "It is strange to see a derro this far south.  The maps we saw suggested that they live much farther north."

"Let's take him back to camp and have a civilized conversation about that." Kormick readied one of his warhammers.  "I've missed creatures with kneecaps."

Mena shook her head.  "I have no wish to expose Rose to this creature.  You—” she turned back to the derro “--what are you doing here?"

"Our rock.  What doing you?"

"I don't believe you've earned the right to ask questions.  I want to know why you have traveled to this place." 

"Death come under.  Lurx.  All kill, all kill."  He grinned, showing teeth.

"How many of you are there?"

"Enough to all kill when find from below."

"Yes darling, all kill, I got that."  _This really is like trying to get philosophy out of a toddler_, she thought.  _A murderous, cannibalistic toddler, but still._  "How many?  Numbers." 

The derro stared at Mena.  _Maybe they don't use numbers_, she realized.  Then he grunted:  "Better than yesterday."

"You mean your forces are growing?  Where are they coming from?"  

"Our rock."

"Why did you shoot at my friend?"

"Our rock." 

Mena sighed in exasperation and changed tactics.  "What is the fire over the dale?"

The derro looked surprised.  Then he snarled, "Our good fortune."  

"Why?  What are you doing here?"

"Lurx here."

Mena cast her mind back over the Dwarven grammar texts she'd studied and determined that, syntactically – insofar as this creature was capable of syntax – Lurx was a proper name.  "Lurx is a person?  A tribe?  What?"

"Lurx hundred.  Big.  Better tomorrow."

"Where is Lurx?"

"Our rock beneath."

"I see.  What does Lurx feed on?"

The derro frowned, as if the answer were obvious.  "Fungus," he said.  But then he grinned: "And trespassers."


----------



## Fajitas

In a moment that I can only describe as a personal triumph, at our last game, jonrog--let me say that again--*JONROG*, as Kormick, basically said "I don't feel good about killing these enemies of ours who are now our helpless prisoners.  Perhaps we should let them go instead."  

In fact, he not only said it, he *fought* for it.  For real.

Like, without irony. 

Or mind control.

It's a fun campaign, folks.


----------



## ellinor

Move along, nothing to see here.
(which is to say, "edit" post is possible; "delete that thing you posted twice" doesn't seem to be )


----------



## ellinor

A peek into the future there from Fajitas -- to give you a sense, Ilex's post above was the start of session 4 (which we played in mid-March), and the BRILLIANT character moment that Fajitas just described was from the session this past Sunday, which I believe was session 10.  So there's a lot to look forward to!  Stay tuned.

As for today's post, Ilex has had a catastrophic hard drive failure (Great woe!  Send sympathy!) so the post will be a tad delayed.  Soon!  Promise.

When? When?  Soon, Phoebe, soon.


----------



## coyote6

Don't worry about it; with the way the boards have been, I'd have just chalked up any delay to "they probably can't even get to the boards, never mind actually post something". 

PS: Good luck with the fried HD -- I hope everything got at least mostly backed up!


----------



## Ilex

Excellent point, coyote6.  Posting is taking roughly one million years right now.  In fact, posting this little comment before the main update was a silly thing for me to do, because now this whole process is going to take roughly two million years.   

And everyone, back up your files.  In the blessed names of all the gods, do it *NOW*. Because somewhere, deep in your hard drives, Sedellus lurks…


----------



## Ilex

*4x02*

Mena tried, but she couldn't learn any more useful information from the captive derro.  Finally, in resignation, she turned to Kormick. 

"We'll need to bring him with us, after all," she said.  "I am reluctant to kill him until we know more about what we're facing here."

"Why kill when you can immobilize?" asked the Justicar cheerfully.  Before Mena could blink, Kormick smashed the derro's foot with his warhammer.  The derro screamed in agony.  Dragging their prisoner with them, they returned to camp.

Mena checked automatically to make sure that Tavi was still guarding Rose.  He was.  Savina had helped Arden remove the arrow from her arm and bind up the wound.  Arden stood up with an air of determination as her attacker entered camp, but she looked pained and pale.  _The journey has weakened her_, thought Mena, making a mental note.  _She was perhaps also not strong to begin with.  Slavery leaves few opportunities to build reserves, cursed institution._

Savina looked nearly as pained as Arden as she heard – and understood – an appalling series of corrupt Dwarven curses issuing from the prisoner's mouth. 

"Should I – I suppose I could heal him – " she ventured.

Privately admiring the girl's sincere if misplaced compassion, Mena turned to the derro.  "If you help us," she said, "we will heal you.  Do you understand?"

"Lurx come.  Many boots.  Eat you all." 

Mena rolled her eyes.  The creature's refrain was growing tedious. 

"Rose," she asked, "kindly tell us what Whisper learned about the fire over the hill."

"It's a burning wagon.  Whisper says it looked like part of a caravan of some kind," said Rose, her face pale.  "It looked like there'd been an attack.  There were broken wagons, dead ponies, dead . . . dead people.  He said there seemed to be one still alive."

_The Twilight Bitch has been busy_, Mena thought.  What she said aloud was, "We ought to render what aid we can to the survivor – carefully."

"Not to be difficult," asked Twiggy, "but are we sure this is a good idea?  What if it's a trap?"

"We need intel," said Kormick.

"We – we have to help a person in need," insisted Savina.  "That's part of Alirria's path, too."

"We have to be systematic and rule out danger," explained Mena.

"And if you're that worried about it, we'll send the slave ahead to check things out," concluded Kormick. 

"We can't send Arden," Twiggy objected.  "She's hurt because you already made her sneak around once."

"I'm willing to go, Lady Chelesta," Arden volunteered unexpectedly.

"There you go," said Kormick.

Twiggy bit her lip, thinking.  Mena watched her with distracted pride.  She had seen Twiggy ponder problems in her classroom with just this kind of careful consideration, and she was always pleased to see it.  Then Twiggy looked at Savina.  "Helping someone does seem like Alirria's path," she agreed.  "All right."

"Tavi," said Mena, sure that he knew what she was going to say yet unable to break the habit of saying it, "Rose is not to be out of your sight."

"Yeah," answered Tavi, "and the sun rose this morning, too."

###

Tavi watched as the Justicar and the slavewoman crept down the hill to get a closer look at the attack site.  He was concealed nearby with Rose and the rest of the party out of an abundance of caution.  Tavi had understood the phrase _abundance of caution_ since he was a small boy.  He accepted it.  But he didn't have to enjoy it.

Taaaaaaaa-viiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.

_I know, Pheebs._

There is a *mystery* down there.  There might be danger!

_I think we're too late for the danger on this one.  But you're right about the mystery._

Then why are we *here*?  We could be there, we could be down there right now looking all around for clues and finding a trail the bad guys left and running after them really really really fast, you know how much I like running, Tavi, run run run!  And then the fighting!

_You know how Arden has to do what people tell her to do, Pheebs?_

I know – she's so boring – back when the Justicar said she might stab us in our sleep, I got excited, but she hasn't even *tried*!

_My point is that we all have duties, Pheebs.  And right now, my duty is to wait here_.

No one lets you have any fun.

Kormick and Arden reappeared from the underbrush.  "It's safe," said Kormick.  "But it's not pretty."

Tavi and the others followed Kormick down the hill. They paused again behind some shrubs on the edge of the attack site.  From there, Tavi could see everything.  Broken wagons tilted like shipwrecks on their remaining wheels.  Dead ponies lay before them, still in their harnesses.  Four dead dwarves lay in a neat line, not far from one burnt and smoldering  wagon that gave off a thin column of smoke.

A dwarf was hitching herself along the ground, clearly injured, pulling a fifth dead body toward the others. 

Seeing her, Savina began to step forward, but Mena grabbed her arm, stopping her.  "She may not be...entirely trusting just now.  And you are entirely too trusting."  Tavi groaned inwardly.  _Gods, there has to be such a thing as a *super*abundance of caution_, he thought.

Mena walked forward instead of Savina.

"Do you need assistance?" she asked, in Dwarven, as she strode into the massacre site.

The dwarven woman turned, one hand flying to the ax at her hip.  She was young.  Her face was streaked with dirt and smoke.  And she was very pregnant.  "Who are you?" she demanded.

"We're travelers," said Mena.  "Do you need assistance?"

The woman's jaw clenched, and then she said one word:  "Please."

Savina was already running.

That's the spirit!

Tavi hurried up with the others as Savina dropped to her knees beside the young woman and laid gentle hands upon the dwarf's leg.  "It's broken," she told them, and then turned to the woman and asked in Dwarven, "What's your name?"

"Corani.  Corani Rockminder."  Savina closed her eyes and concentrated.  Corani sighed with relief as Savina's prayers took effect.  "What happened here?" asked Savina.

Tavi listened carefully to Corani's answer, noticing with amusement that Savina was editing out the dwarf's embittered obsenities as she translated the story for those who didn't speak Dwarven:  "She and her husband and her sister-wives travel here every eight years to mine stone.  He's a master stoneworker.  He knows this area really well, and they've never had any trouble.  But this time, they were attacked by – by – in our Lady's name, that's an _especially_ rude word – by a party of derro.  Corani survived by playing dead after her leg was broken.  The derro killed all these people – and then they took her husband, her sister-wives, all the children, and a few others away with them as prisoners."

Tavi – 

_ Trust me, Pheebs, I know;  I want to take down whoever did this as fast as I possibly can_. 

Mena was telling Corani about the derro who had shot Arden.

"A scout," said Corani.  "Did he get away?"

"No," said Mena. 

"Is he still alive?" Corani demanded.

"For like nine and a half more minutes," said Kormick, and pointed to the edge of the clearing, where the bound derro was awaiting his fate.

"Will it help you to kill it?" asked Mena.

Corani got a better grip on her ax and stood up.  A grim silence fell.

Twiggy spoke up.  "Why do we have to kill it?" she asked softly.

Mena turned to the derro.  "If we spare your life," she asked it, "will you do the same for us?"  

The derro grinned.  "All kill," it hissed.

"That's why," said Mena, gently but firmly, to Twiggy.  Twiggy nodded her understanding.

"Plus, it hurt Arden," added Tavi.  He hadn't felt any need to question the execution of their prisoner, but now that they were on the brink of it, he wanted to make sure everyone knew how justified it was.  Technically speaking, after all, he was in charge;  it was his decision.

The slavewoman looked startled that a nobleman had acknowledged her.  But then she startled Tavi in return.  "Signor Octavian," she said, "may it please you, don't kill him in my name."

Gods, she's sooo boring.

"We kill it in the name Rockminder," said Corani, after Savina translated Arden's words.

"Okay," said Kormick.  "How do you want to handle this?  Should we – "

Corani strode past the Justicar.  She strode past Tavi.  And she split the derro's skull open with her ax.


----------



## coyote6

Ilex said:


> "We kill it in the name Rockminder," said Corani, after Savina translated Arden's words.
> 
> "Okay," said Kormick.  "How do you want to handle this?  Should we – "
> 
> Corani strode past the Justicar.  She strode past Tavi.  And she split the derro's skull open with her ax.




And *that's* how dwarves roll.


----------



## Ilex

*4x03*

The group watched Corani in stunned silence as she stood over the executed derro prisoner.  Then Mena turned to the dwarf. "Blood has been shed," she said.  "Let us see that it was not shed in vain." 

Arden looked away, only to see the dead dwarves.   Between that sight and the summary execution of the prisoner, she felt unbalanced, like the ground under her feet had shifted.

Savina was looking at the dead dwarves, too.  "We must bury them," she said softly.  "Arden, help me."  

They all helped, finishing the task Corani had started:  gathering the dwarven bodies together and piling rocks over them into a low cairn.  When they had finished their work, they formed a rough circle around the pile of stones, awaiting – with unspoken agreement – what came next.  Mena alone walked quietly away, taking up a position at the edge of the clearing.

Arden looked at Kormick.  

Everyone looked at Kormick.

"Justicar," said Savina, gently urging.  

"Yes, Blessed Daughter?  What can I do for you?"

"The funeral prayers . . . ?"

"Me?  Oh, no no no, dear girl, I wouldn't know what to say.  Surely _you_, as a priestess – "

"But you serve Kettenek."  

Kormick looked at Savina blankly.    

"The god of the _dead_?" Tavi prompted.

"—What?  I mean, right.  The god of the dead.  Of _course_ he is."  Kormick dug around in his pack and produced a small, shiny Kettenite holy text that looked suspiciously pristine.  He began to flip through it, muttering chapter headings to himself. 

Arden wasn't sure whether she felt more like laughing or weeping.  _Alleged the Just strikes again_, she thought, but she couldn't help rooting for him.

"You see, in Dar Und, we don't have a lot of funerals _per se_," Kormick muttered, still flipping pages.  "Unmarked graves are more popular – ah ha, here we are.  Basic funerary rites.  Ho-kay, we begin:  'Earth Father, Ground of Being, Heart of Stone . . . '"

Savina translated his words into Dwarven for Corani.  She was probably glossing over the rough parts and adding in a few soothing phrases of her own, Arden guessed, because Corani didn't look offended despite Alleged's halting, unconvincing delivery.  The instant the Justicar snapped the book shut with a sigh of relief, however, Corani turned to Savina. 

“Now I must save my family from their captors.  I would value your aid if you would give it.  If not, I understand, and will go alone.”

Arden eyed Corani, each hand resting on the handle of an axe, her pregnant – _very_ pregnant – belly protruding before her.  The dwarf could hardly walk, let alone fight.  _If the freepeople won't help her_ . . . .  The thought unbalanced Arden again.  Semi-consciously, her hand gripped the cuff on her other wrist, running her thumb over the metal.

But Mena did not hesitate.  “Of course we will help you,” she said. 

Twiggy and Kormick made short work of discovering the trail left by the derro party who had attacked Corani's family.  The group set off as fast as Corani could walk.  

As they hiked, and lost the trail, and found it again, the freepeople conversed. 

Mena told Twiggy, "I know you were uncomfortable with killing the prisoner, but it was necessary to allow Corani to focus."  

"I understand,” said Twiggy. “But you know me:  I need to know the reasons for things.”  She paused.  "And I know we have to help these people, not least because Corani’s husband might know the way to the Spring.  But . . . that means we might have to kill more derro, doesn’t it.”

"Innocent lives are at stake," said Mena. 

"Of course.  But attacking things in their own home, even to help others – is that right?"

"Yes," said Kormick flatly.

Twiggy hesitated.  Then she asked, "Exactly what are the qualifications for becoming a Justicar in Dar Und?"

"Wanting to be," answered Kormick.  Arden stifled a laugh.  Then he grew more expansive.  "Actually, I stalked them," he said.  "I sat outside the Temple for weeks.  I made sure they knew that I wouldn't leave until they let me in.  After they accepted me, I began learning all those skills that one needs to know as a servant of Kettenek:  justice . . . smiting . . . bribery . . . planting evidence . . . "

"So," said Twiggy, "when you say that it's all right for us to attack the derro in their own home, is that your official legal opinion, or your Undian – "

"Corani has accepted our assistance," said Mena.  "We are therefore obliged to help her combat this great evil.  If we must combat it with a lesser evil, so be it."

"I guess that makes sense," Twiggy conceded, but she had one more question.  "Should we be letting Corani take this into her own hands?  Especially when she's pregnant?"

Mena opened her mouth to respond, but Kormick beat her to it.  "If someone killed a member of my family," said the Justicar, "I would need to do what she's doing." 

Twiggy commented, "That sounds like the voice of experience."

Kormick spoke quietly.  "No matter what I had to do, no matter what insane job I had to take . . . I would not rest until I had found that person." 

His voice carried finality with it.  Silence followed.

Twilight fell, deepening to darkness.  

The thought of the dwarves, especially the children, in the hands of derro captors was haunting them all.  No one suggested stopping to rest.  Twiggy saw easily at night and, with Kormick's help, she continued to track the derro.

As she followed the others in silence, Arden's arm throbbed dully where the scout had shot it that morning, and her energy, already low, waned further.  She fell into a tired trance, the hours slipping past marked only by the rhythm of her feet.  As midnight neared, a slaves' work-song began repeating itself endlessly in time with her steps . . .

_ One day when I was young and free,
Four spirits came to visit me:
A flame burned down my garden gate,
A voice of stone declared my fate,
The flowers hung their heads and cried,
The wind blew whispers, and I sighed--_

The trail dead-ended at a rock wall split by a crevice plunging into blackness.  Arden froze, staring.

"Ah," whispered Kormick.  "This calls for someone small, sneaky, and expendable."

Everyone looked at her, but memory had swelled up in Arden's chest until she felt she would choke.  She could barely whisper, "I beg you, please, don't make me." 

She knew what was coming next.  One of them would strike her and she would fall.  They would kick her and repeat the order, pointing at the narrow tunnel.  She would plead with them.  They would kick her again and again until something cracked in her chest and in sheer terror of that grating brokenness she would creep, cringing, into the darkness.

Instead, the Justicar gave her a mildly curious look, and then Twiggy volunteered to send her mouse to investigate.  

As the mouse held a silent conversation with his mistress and then scurried down the tunnel, Arden fought to pull herself back to the present.  _I'm in the Ketkath Mountains.  This is a different place, a different time._ 

The mouse returned, and Twiggy relayed his news:  the passageway led down into the mountain before reaching a chamber where four armed derro were standing guard over three doors in the eerie light of a glowing fungus.  

"Well, this will be no problem," said Kormick, with false cheer.

"Yeah," said Tavi, with real cheer.  "We go in and display our wrath, they cower in fear, and it's all over."

"I'm not sure I have wrath," said Savina solemnly.  "But I've been told that Alirria does."

"Trust me, look deep enough inside yourself, and you'll find your hate," said Kormick.  His jovial tone faded as he spoke;  his voice grew grim.

"We should discuss tactics," Mena proposed, equally grim.  

As the conference continued, Arden began to accept, first, that their trail led into that hole.  Second, that the others were going to go in.  Third, that they might not force her to join them:  they might give her a choice.  

And fourth, that she already knew what the right choice was.

She laid her hand on the mule's halter and muttered something to the Blessed Daughter about tethering him nearby.  She led the mule into the trees and tied him to a sturdy spruce, barely remembering to poke at the tree first to make sure it didn't poke back.

Then she knelt down and prayed, long and hard.  By the time she opened her eyes, she had been gone many minutes, and no one had come to find her.  _They're distracted – I could run_, she thought.  She smiled, nearly laughing, her amusement sincere, though as dark as the night.  _Gods, I could run._ 

She stood, patted the mule, and walked back to the group.  In the back of her mind, the song resumed keeping time with her footsteps.

_ I still pray to the holy four,
But I am young and free no more.
Oh friend, if spirits visit, hide,
For since that day, my hope has died._

The group had all drawn their weapons;  they were just waiting for her.  "Are you all right?" whispered Savina.  The compassion in the girl's voice was startling and painful, a whipstrike.  "I will be," Arden muttered, looking away.

The Justicar caught her eye and jerked his head, indicating that she should join him.  

Arden nodded agreement.  Her heart racing, she forced herself to take her place by Kormick at the front. 

The two of them led the way into the darkness.


----------



## WisdomLikeSilence

Wow.  I love the song the slaves sing; very appropriate and sad.  Nice work.


----------



## Ilex

Thanks, WisdomLikeSilence!  I had way too much fun writing the song -- with help from ellinor as well as commentary from Fajitas on its theological underpinnings.  Thanks to said commentary, my grasp of orthodox Halmae religion is now much stronger, which I think we can all breathe a sigh of relief about.

(I love this game.  )


----------



## Ilex

*4x04*

Kormick crept down the tunnel, glad that his eyes were already adjusted to the darkness from the night outside.  He kept one hand on the wall for guidance.  The other held his crossbow.  Beside him, Arden moved like a shadow, but a shadow that was breathing a little too hard, a little too fast.  She was frightened.  He wasn't exactly feeling relaxed, himself, but he was looking forward to unburdening his jitters against multiple derro kneecaps very, very soon.

Faint scuffles and footsteps came from behind him, farther up the tunnel, as the rest of the group felt their way through the darkness.  _By the time they're close enough for the derro to hear_, he hoped, _the derro will be screaming too loud to notice_. 

The tunnel acquired a faint green cast, and shapes began to stand out more clearly. 

He heard Arden take a final deep breath, and then silence.  He wasn't sure if she'd seized control of herself and begun breathing soundlessly or if she'd stopped breathing altogether.

Pausing in the tunnel's last pool of darkness, Kormick could see the scene just as the mouse had described.  _Freaky moss.  Check.  Four derro.  Check.  Four foolish, foolish derro who have not drawn their weapons and who will soon be filled with profound regret on that particular score.  Checkmate._ 

He raised his crossbow and saw Arden ready her sling.  Her hands were shaking.

Kormick's weren't.  His crossbow bolt buried itself in one derro's shoulder and the creature yelled in surprise and pain.  The others stared around in confusion, not noticing as the rock from Arden's sling flew wide and bounced off the wall. 

Red flame erupted in the center of the room, blazing out in a blinding rush before cohering into a _flaming sphere_.  Twiggy had joined them in spectacular fashion.  Kormick and Arden moved aside, staring in awe, as Twiggy took a single step into the room, concentrating fiercely on her creation.  The derro – one injured, the others flabbergasted, and all squinting madly in the sudden light – dodged away as the sphere moved into position to block their retreat through the door opposite the entrance.  Their movement drove them right into the arms of Mena and Tavi, who charged into the room next.  Green flames licked up and down Tavi's blade as he and his tutor struck their targets.  

Kormick traded his crossbow for his warhammers, ran toward the fight, swung at an unoccupied derro – and missed.  _Note to self_, he thought.  _Derro kneecaps are somewhat lower than I'm used to_.  But before the derro could react, Arden appeared out of nowhere and sank her dagger into its side.  The derro howled in outrage.  Arden wrenched the dagger out, the light from Twiggy's sphere flickering in her eyes, and Kormick felt fleetingly smug: _Good.  Whatever scared her so much at the entrance, I *knew* she was still a murderous little sneak._

Then the derro finally drew their swords, and there was no more time for smugness.  

The two facing Tavi and Mena formed up back-to-back and began trading vicious blows with their opponents while a third – the one Kormick had initially shot – ran toward the green moss along the walls.  Kormick, suspicious, followed it, dodging past the swordfight in the center of the room just as Tavi took a tremendous blow to his arm from a blade that was black with poison.  Kormick felt drops of the boy's blood spatter his cheek, but Tavi’s sword flashed as he retaliated instantly, not missing a beat.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kormick glimpsed the pregnant Corani waddle into the room with what seemed – in the midst of the whirling action – to be excruciating slowness, her battleaxes ready.  Savina followed, trying in vain to stop her.  For a split second, Kormick could only stare in horror at the sight – _Back in that parlor, did I not predict horrible, horrible deaths?  And by horrible did I not mean something *exactly like* a pregnant lady dwarf and a girl of impossible sweetness getting hacked to pieces by derro?_ – and yet he couldn't help admiring their nerve.  There was no sign of Rose, sensibly waiting farther up the tunnel.

Ahead of Kormick, the derro reached the moss and gave it a good, hard _stomp_.  A bolt of lightning burst out of the moss next to the stomper, shooting across the room.  It barely missed Tavi and Mena.

Kormick strode up to the stomper, whirled the warhammer in his left hand in a flashy circle and then, with the derro distracted, swung low and fierce with the warhammer in his right.  The resulting _crack_ was music to his ears – _ah, the national anthem of Dar Und_.  The former stomper was now favoring his knee.

The moss along the wall erupted again from several paces farther away, the beam of electricity stabbing all the way to the opposite wall.  It struck Arden a glancing blow as she dodged just slightly too late.  Her body convulsed at the jolt and she staggered.  Kormick guessed that the bolts were going to continue marching across the room – and possibly back again – gradually putting everyone at risk.

The derro Arden had stabbed saw its chance and closed in on her, its poisoned sword ready.  Arden, fighting off the shock she'd taken, raised her dagger and watched it come.  Kormick didn't give the derro great odds against the slave, but this wasn't going to be pretty. 

Then, suddenly, a ray of holy light blazed down from overhead, encompassing the derro.  It keeled over, dead.  _Savina_ stood behind it, her hands still outstretched in prayer. 

"And that," Kormick shouted to the girl, "would be Alirria's wrath!"

Savina's eyes were very, very wide.

Another shot of electricity from the moss lanced across the room, this time near the door where they'd entered, missing Savina by inches.  Savina didn't even notice.  She seemed to be in shock. 

In the room's center, green flame still rippled along Tavi’s sword as he and Mena battled the three remaining derro.  But as Kormick had feared, the moss’s electrical arcs had covered the room and were now on their way back.  Tavi and Mena would soon be in trouble.

The flaming sphere slid into motion as Twiggy, a look of intense focus on her face, manuvered it delicately toward two derro.  It engulfed them.  One of them fell, charred and dead.  The other didn't escape for long, because it staggered toward Corani.  Her axe felled it with a single stroke.  

The last remaining derro, still reeling from Kormick’s hammer blow, turned and limped as fast as it could toward the door opposite the entrance. Mena, with a swing of her flail so well-practiced that it looked casual, killed it.

In the sudden silence, the warning sound of the moss crackling carried across the room.

"Watch out," shouted Kormick.  The lightening shot forth.  Tavi and Mena jumped apart as it passed between them.  

"Stay out of its range," Kormick ordered, and everyone retreated to the corners.  The moss offered up one final strike, in the spot where it had first erupted, and then ceased its activity.  Kormick, his eyes watering at the stench of burnt derro flesh, surveyed the room.

Twiggy's concentration was still bent on the flaming sphere.  Her brow was furrowed and her cheeks were flushed.  She seemed barely aware of anything else.

"They're dead now," Kormick told her.  "One of them is in fact crispy, thanks to you.  You can put away the flaming death-ball."

"No.  There . . . might be more . . . " said Twiggy, with immense effort.  

"Wise," agreed Mena, as she strode from derro to derro, making sure they were dead.  Tavi still had his sword raised;  both he and the hummingbird looked like they were disappointed that the fight was over.  

Corani was leaning on her ax.

Arden was watching Savina.

And Savina's eyes were still very, very wide.  "T – Tavi?" she asked.  "Do you need me to heal you?"

"Feelin' fine," said Tavi, and he clearly meant it, despite the human and derro blood streaking his armor.

"Do you – " Savina tried again.  She stopped, and swallowed.  "Tavi, what was it like the first time you killed some – somebody?  A person?"

"I haven't – yet," said Tavi.  Savina wilted.  Behind her, the slave opened her mouth as if to say something to her mistress, then clenched her jaw shut and looked away, rubbing her arm where the original derro scout had shot it that morning.

_I know what to say to a member of my crew who's just made his first hit_, thought Kormick.  _But I'm not sure what to say to the sweetest Alirrian in all the Halmae when she's just killed her first "somebody."_

In the end, Mena walked over to Savina.  "I would tell you it gets easier," she said, "but it doesn't.  Nor should it.  The only thing to do is know that by taking a life, you are saving others."

Savina hesitated, then nodded.  Mena rested her hand on the girl's shoulder for a moment.  Then she turned to the group.  

"There are three closed doors," Mena said.  "We must determine which way to go."


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

So, I'm curious... is Corani a normal NPC?  I'm asking because she kinda has that PC sheen, although starting pregnant would certainly be unusual, and I know that at least Spyscribe joined late.


----------



## Fajitas

Cerebral Paladin said:


> So, I'm curious... is Corani a normal NPC?  I'm asking because she kinda has that PC sheen, although starting pregnant would certainly be unusual, and I know that at least Spyscribe joined late.




Nope--Corani's sheen is Plot Hook sheen, not PC sheen. We're still a couple of sessions away from Spyscribe's entrance.

By the way, for anyone curious, what you're about to see is "Rescue at Rivenroar", the first adventure in the Scales of War Adventure Path, done Halmae style...


----------



## Jenber

And so it begins.  Just reading that makes my stomach turn over.  I. Hate. Dungeons.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Don't now how I missed this until now, as I read and enjoyed the other Halmae story.

Anyway, I've read through and caught up over the last couple of days - fantastic stuff; kudos to all involved (but especially Fajitas and Iilex).

Looking forward to more ...


----------



## Ilex

Thanks very much, HalfOrc HalfBiscuit!  We're enjoying ourselves immensely.  Credit where credit is due:  the story hour is co-written, 50-50, by me and ellinor both, so I will share your kudos with her (but grudgingly, reserving a few extra secretly for me, good rogue that I am).  



Fajitas said:


> By the way, for anyone curious, what you're about to see is "Rescue at Rivenroar", the first adventure in the Scales of War Adventure Path, done Halmae style...




Since I'm new to all this, I naturally had no choice but to google what Fajitas meant by this "Rescue at Rivenroar" business. To my untrained eye, skimming the flavor text of the adventure, the best I can do is glimpse a few similarities here and there. Fajitas definitely made this his own in some creative ways.

And then there's this: "Rescuing the prisoners amounts to a major quest, but it’s likely the PCs rescue some captives, return them to civilization, then come back for the rest" (page 6). 

Allow me to quote Kormick:

That's _adorable_.


----------



## Ilex

*4x05*

"Okay," said Kormick, turning to Arden.  "Time for some breaking and entering."

"Justicar, I wouldn't know how – "

"Slave, slave, slave.  _I_ see with the gaze of Kettenek.  Do _you_ see any point in denying to my face that you're skilled at murderous sneakiness?"

Arden opened her mouth as if to do just that, and then apparently thought better of it.  She met his gaze for a moment, then turned and stalked toward the door to the left of the entrance.  

Kormick followed her, satisfied.  He still half expected her to stab him in his sleep, but otherwise, they seemed to understand each other.  

Arden laid her fingers on the door's handle and, vindicating Kormick's words, bore down with the light touch of someone with a lot of practice opening doors silently.  This one was easy:  it wasn't locked, and it swung open smoothly.  

Arden and Kormick slipped through into a short corridor that turned sharply several feet ahead.  With a glance at Kormick for permission, Arden tiptoed forward and glanced around the corner.  Then she gestured for Kormick to join her.  He did, and carefully, they crept down to the next corner and peered around it.  Through a doorway, two derro were rummaging in what appeared to be a storeroom.

Kormick considered killing them.  But there was another door at the far end of the storeroom, just the sort of door that reinforcements could come pouring through at any moment.  He gestured to Arden to retreat.

They returned to the entry hall.  Twiggy was trembling from continuing to maintain the flaming sphere, so they wasted no time approaching the second door, to the right of the entrance.  Kormick stood by as Arden laid her fingers on the handle.  Almost before he'd blinked, the door had been soundlessly cracked open and Arden had vanished through it.

Kormick slipped through the door.  Arden was waiting for him on the other side. 

"No wonder you were able to escape," he whispered.

She smiled with faint humor and held up her cuffed wrist.  "I wasn't," she reminded him. 

They could see a glimmer of torchlight and hear the clamor of many voices from around a bend up ahead.

This time, Kormick gestured Arden forward alone, and she obeyed.  Soon, she vanished out of sight around the corridor.  Kormick waited tensely, listening for any change in the sound of the voices. 

###

Arden sneaked down the shadowy corridor toward the torchlight.  There was a smell in the air that had been present since they'd entered and was growing more and more overpowering with every step:  a ripe, musty smell.  She supposed it was a relief from the smell of burned derro flesh in the entry hall, but she hated it.  It was the smell of many unwashed bodies living together underground.  It wasn't so long ago that _she_ had smelled like that.

She edged toward a doorway that led into a larger chamber, stopping far enough back that she was still cloaked in shadows.  The noise was loud now, because the chamber ahead was full of derro.  They were sitting at rough tables and lounging on bunks, laughing and talking.  Arden started to count them – _one, two – seven – _ and gave up.  There were a _lot_ of them, jostling each other and miming violence.  She saw no sign of the captured dwarves, just a very messy, very crowded barracks room.  She turned and crept back down the corridor, collecting Kormick before sneaking back into the entrance hall and closing the door behind her.

"There are many derro that way, gentlefolk," she said, and recounted what she'd seen.  The group stirred uneasily.  Then it was time to open the third door, the one opposite the entrance.  Like the others, it was unlocked.  Unlike the others, it didn't lead to a corridor but to a tunnel, roughly cut, descending steeply into darkness.  Arden stifled a shudder.

"If we go that way, we – we might not have to fight anyone," proposed Savina.  _Oh, thanks for that, Blessed Daughter_, Arden thought, bracing herself for the order to explore the tunnel.

"But if we go that way, we could be cut off by enemies behind us," answered Tavi.

"I agree, unfortunately," said Mena.  "We should deal with the derro in the barracks before going farther."

"All right."  Tavi straightened up and raised his sword eagerly.  "I'll go first." 

Kormick glanced at Twiggy.  "I can't believe I'm going to say this," he said, "but I suggest that the little lady-in-waiting with no prior combat experience should go first . . . with her flaming sphere of death, of course."  Beads of sweat were standing out on Twiggy's forehead as she continued to maintain the sphere, but she managed a nod to show that she'd understood.

"Very well," said Mena.  "There is no use delaying."

Arden walked back to the second door and laid her fingers on the handle, feeling the heat of Twiggy's magic at her back.  

This time, by some inexplicable malice of Sedellus, the door gave an almighty _squeak_ as she opened it, and it must have coincided with a lull in the merrymaking of the derro, because suddenly she heard only dead silence down the corridor, followed by orders barked out in a firm voice.

_I hate this place_, Arden thought.

"Damn," said Kormick.  "Hurry."

Twiggy and Tavi pushed into the corridor, Tavi guiding Twiggy with a courtly hand on her arm as she hurried toward the torchlight.

The others followed, leaving Rose at the entrance to the corridor.

###

Tavi and Twiggy burst around the corner, and Twiggy immediately directed the flaming sphere straight into the crowd of derro.  They screamed, and Tavi felt Twiggy wince beside him.  Several of them dropped dead at once, burnt to a crisp.  

"Nice.  Keep it up," he told Twiggy, stepping past her as his remaining enemies pulled themselves into a ragged battle line.  He strode toward them, his sword burning with green fire, and released a _flame cyclone_.  Fire fanned out from his blade as if swept by a whirlwind and blazed among the derro.  They burned.  One burned to death.  _Now,_ Tavi thought, grinning with fierce satisfaction, _*there's* my first kill, Savina_.  

Mena arrived at Tavi's side as Twiggy adjusted the sphere and set two more derro ablaze.  Those two attempted to stab Tavi and Mena, but missed – distracted, understandably, by being on fire.  Tavi and Mena dispatched them quickly. 

Too easy, gloated Phoebe from a safe spot near the ceiling, just before another derro engaged Tavi.  This creature had a little more skill with the blade, and they traded blows for a moment.  Then a short sword burst out of his opponent's chest, stopping just shy of Tavi's own body and spraying a new layer of derro blood onto his armor.  The derro sagged to the ground, dead, and revealed Arden behind him, grim-faced.  That was it for this room; _too easy_ indeed.

But Tavi's flash of annoyance at Arden for stealing his next kill was forgotten as the door ahead flew open and three more derro rushed in, crossbows raised. 

Their bolts flew as one, and Mena cried out as one of them buried itself in her thigh.  "It burns," she announced as she wrenched the bolt from her leg.  "They're poisoned."  

Mena raised her flail, and Tavi's heart skipped a beat as his tutor staggered, unnaturally weakened.  "Savina!” he yelled, “Mena is—" and Savina interrupted him, praying for Mena’s health and then, almost in the same breath, blasting one of the archers with a _lance of faith_.  

Arden ran past the flaming sphere and along the wall, aiming to slip in close to the archers, but they were too quick for her:  one shot her at close range, the poisoned arrow burying itself between her ribs.  Like Mena, Arden staggered, leaning against the wall near the room's open rear door, losing the battle against the poison.  She was dangerously close to the bad guys – right where _Tavi_ wanted to be, in fact.  

_Let's make this more interesting_, he thought.  About time! cheered Phoebe.  He muttered an incantation and stabbed his sword into the bunk beside him.  A vortex appeared where the sword had hit, and in a flash he and Arden were both pulled into it, switching places.  He laughed at the slave's astonishment, turned, and drove his burning blade deep into the nearest archer, killing him.

Kormick dove in with his warhammers, swinging at both the remaining archers in quick succession.  The two derro withdrew into the hallway, dropped their crossbows, and drew short swords as Tavi and Kormick's pressure forced them into close-quarters combat.  One of them scored a vicious hit on the Justicar, driving his blade into Kormick's side.  Kormick yelled in pain, nearly falling.

Then Tavi glimpsed a pit in the hallway, just a few steps behind the derro.  "Come on," he called.  "Drive them back!"  

Corani responded to his exhortation with typical overzealousness, waddling too close to Twiggy's still-flaming sphere and burning herself.  Arden, keeping her distance, whirled her sling and sent a rock flying straight through the sphere.  Trailing sparks like a shooting star, it plowed into the face of one derro, who stumbled backward – farther backward – and plunged into the pit.  

Kormick, with a mighty effort, rushed the final derro.  "This" – he grunted – "is _justice_" – and, in a single strong motion despite his bleeding side, he kicked the derro in the chest, sending him flying over the pit's edge.

Kormick peered over the edge.  Tavi joined him, but saw only darkness below.  "I can't tell if they're dead," he said.

"I – can help – " gasped Twiggy.  With a final exhausted effort, she gestured the flaming sphere forward until it plummeted between Tavi and Kormick down into the pit after the two derro.   

As the sphere lit up a cavernous space, Tavi saw the second derro lying prone far below.  It opened its eyes . . . just in time to be engulfed by flame.  The light flared up, and then flickered out.  

Twiggy steadied herself against the passage wall and let out her breath in a long, long sigh, almost a groan, almost a wail.  She slid down the wall into a lump and held her head in her hands.

Everyone was still.  The barracks were silent, filled with corpses.

The smell of burning flesh hung heavy in the air, inescapable.

Savina threw up.


----------



## coyote6

Smells like toasted minions!


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## ellinor

Yes indeedy!  The derro warren is where both Twiggy and Tavi get to make extensive use of their abilities to flambé  the opposition.  Although Twiggy has decidedly mixed feelings about the "flaming ball of death," as Kormick calls it.  And you should _hear_ what Acorn has to say about it.  

Still, it's a pretty amazing tool.  As I recall, Fajitas' reaction to that fight -- in which the entire party passed up the opportunity for a short rest between combats so that Twiggy could maintain her daily power into a second combat and essentially vaporize all the mooks in the surprise round -- was something along the lines of "well, that was not at all how I expected that combat to go."

Sadly, he now knows better.


----------



## Ilex

*5x01*

_I believed I was ready for this_, Savina thought.  As they had entered the derro caves, she had steeled herself for the trial to come.  Innocent children needed rescue, and, as a Blessed Daughter of Alirria, it was Savina's duty to help:  that got her into the tunnel.  Corani was pregnant and recovering from injury, and, as a healer, it was Savina's duty to keep her patient safe:  that got her onto the battlefield. Then Arden came under attack, and, as a member of the noble house of di Infusino, it was Savina's duty to care for her own:  that got her to strike out at the derro.  But she'd killed him.  And she had _not_ been ready for that.

Now she stood in the dim barracks-room, in the reeking aftermath of the second battle, feeling numb.  Kormick and Tavi were investigating the pit, studying the frayed ropes that dangled above it and attempting to peer into its gloom.  Mena was collecting Rose from her hiding-place in the hallway.  Corani was at the far side of the room, her ax rising and falling methodically -- Savina tried not to look too closely.  

Twiggy sat against the wall, looking as shaken as Savina felt.  Nearby, Arden wiped her sword clean on a rag torn from a derro's cloak.  Her movements lacked force and her face was drawn; some clinical part of Savina's mind diagnosed blood loss and exhaustion and prescribed a long rest.  

Twiggy asked, as Savina had earlier, "Arden, are you all right?"

"I hate this place," Arden snapped.  Twiggy blinked, and Savina was jolted out of her reverie for a moment, too, at the slave's uncharacteristic harshness.  Arden caught herself immediately.  "I'm sorry, Lady Chelesta," she muttered to Twiggy.  "I'll be fine." 

Mena and Rose returned.  "Are there any derro left alive to question?" asked Mena.

Kormick laughed in response and pointed at Corani.  Savina followed his finger just in time to see Corani whack some appendage off another corpse.  Savina doubled over and was sick again.

When she straightened, Mena was beside her.  "Think about the smell of mint," she advised.  "Fresh from the garden, in summertime." 

Savina thought about it.  "I . . . I used to like mint," she whispered doubtfully.

"I really, really hate to say this," said Kormick, "but I think we should make ourselves aware of what's in that pit."

"Mena, grab that rope and give me a hand," called Tavi.  "We're going to lower Kormick down to take a look."

"Why me, exactly?" Kormick demanded.

"We'll tie a rope around you," answered Tavi.

"I see what you did there," said Kormick.  Tavi smirked.  "The lake, this morning, har har. . ."

Mena handed a rope to Kormick.

"How can I refuse," sighed the Justicar, taking the rope.  

Mena helped Tavi lower Kormick down into the pit.  Watching them, Savina suppressed a wild urge to laugh at the Justicar dangling like bait on a hook.  _What's wrong with me?  That's not funny!_

She heard Kormick's voice from the darkness below.  "Lower . . . lower . . . okay.  Stop.  Hmmm.  Interesting . . . disgusting . . . intriguing . . . and yes!  Time to leave!  Up we go!"  Mena and Tavi heaved, and soon Kormick was grabbing the rim of the pit and pulling himself up.  

"It was a vast chamber containing a number of troublingly large mushrooms," he reported.  "And then I heard something scuffling toward me, and I decided not to wait to see what it was.  I suggest that we _not_ enter that lower level unless we have no choice."

"Yes, because the Ketkath has a long and proud history of plants that will mess you up," said Twiggy, with a flash of her usual spirit.  "Let's not test the fungi."

"That would argue against following the passage that led downward from the entrance chamber," mused Mena.

"This corridor keeps going a good way beyond this pit," said Tavi.  "Let's move ahead."

Mena looked dubiously at the wide gap and the questionable ropes dangling above it, the only means of swinging across.  Then she looked back at Rose and Savina.

"I'm not sure we can all cross the pit safely," she said.

"We could send a scout," said Tavi.

"No – that person would be cut off and vulnerable."

"Come," said Kormick, "what are slaves for?  Arden!"  He tugged a rope to see if it was sturdy.  It gave way in his hand.  

Savina was vaguely aware that Arden had cast a cursory glance at her for permission, but she still felt so numb.  Seeing no objection from her mistress, Arden silently turned and walked toward the Justicar.

"You don't have to go," Mena told the slave, glaring at Kormick.  Mena's armor backed up her words, hissing and growling.  Kormick had continued testing ropes, and now he handed one to Arden.  "Do your sneaky thing," he told her.  "And remember that cloak you're wearing."  

"Yes, Justicar."  Arden swung smoothly across the pit, landing lightly on the other side.  She set off down the corridor and soon vanished into the shadows.

Mena was still glaring at Kormick.  

"What?" he demanded.  "Owning a sneaky murder-slave is like owning an attack dog.  You must give her regular exercise if you don't want her to turn on you."

"I'm growing tired of these jokes," said Mena.  "Arden is not a pet, and you know it."

"Put away your wrath, illustrious Dame Mena.  Of course I know it."

_What a strange conversation_, Savina thought.  _But I'm glad Arden is able to be useful._  She was still trying her best to think about mint, but then Twiggy asked a question that forced her to think about all the worst things after all.

"Mena?  Kormick?  Does killing ever _not_ feel horrible?"

Kormick eyed Mena like a student trying to guess the correct answer.  "I'm going to say . . . no?" 

"No," agreed Mena. 

Behind her, Kormick caught Tavi's eye and rolled his eyes.  Tavi stifled a laugh.

"Killing never gets easier," Mena was continuing.  "And that is a good thing.  It must never become an act that you perform lightly.  I see that face you're making, Kormick."

"Well, well," said Kormick, unperturbed.  "Dame Mena is right, kids.  Killing should never be fun.  Let's merely say that sometimes, when the cause is – you know – _just_ and so forth – killing can be deeply, deeply . . . satisfying."

For some reason, although naturally she found his words troubling, Kormick's cheerful demeanor reassured Savina.  Tavi was smiling, too, and that also helped.  Not everyone felt like the world was ending, so maybe it wasn't.  Maybe things would be all right.  Maybe, right now, Arden was opening a door and freeing all the dwarven prisoners – maybe they'd all be back outside in only a few more minutes –

From far away down the corridor came a sound.  A bestial snarl.

### 

Arden crept down the corridor reluctantly, straining to hear the conversation she was leaving behind.  _Did Alleged just call me a dog . . .?!_ 

An occasional sputtering torch dimly lit her way.  She passed a smaller entrance on her right, the narrow tunnel beyond it sloping upwards.  She saw no light up there, and a little light up ahead, so she kept going forward toward the light and, as she got closer, the sound of voices.  

Her gaze focused up ahead, she nearly fell into a second pit.  She glimpsed it just in time, found the ropes above it and swung easily across, landing near the corner where the hallway turned.

_First the barracks, now the dining hall_, she realized in discouragement, as she peered around the corner and into a large room full of rowdy derro sitting at long tables, eating and drinking and speaking their guttural, incomprehensible language.  There was no sign of the dwarven prisoners.  On the left-hand side of the room, a spiral staircase led up to a landing and another tunnel.  On the right-hand side, a heavy barred door was set into the wall.  Arden locked her gaze onto it:  _That looks promising._

She scanned the derro again, noticing that they were all armed.  Suddenly, a face poked out from under one of the tables, between the legs of the derro.  It belonged to a lizard the size of a dog, with its tongue lolling out over its fangs – and it was looking straight at her.  

Arden pulled back around the corner, flattening herself against the wall, breathing hard.  She held still for a long time, praying that the creature would lose interest.  Finally, she dared to peek around the corner.

The lizard was right in front of her.  And it sprang.

Arden jumped backwards into the corridor.  The creature landed inches from her, its claws scrabbling on the stone.  It snarled, a loud sound that rolled down the corridor behind her. It leapt at her again and, this time, sank its teeth into her thigh.  Arden felt her flesh tear, and she clenched her jaw shut against the pain, not making a sound, hoping that the derro hadn't noticed what their pet was up to.  For the first time, she felt perversely grateful to Unssa, that fiend, who'd insisted that slaves under the lash be seen and not heard.  

Then she felt emptiness behind her heels and realized that if she backed up any more, she'd plummet into the pit. Her hands caught her cloak and pulled it around her protectively.  In the split second before its magic activated, she had a flash of doubt – _They've lied to me, it's not magic, I'm dead_ – and then –


----------



## Ilex

Congratulations to jonrog1 and jenber on the renewal of jonrog1's show _Leverage_!  If anyone isn't already watching, you should check it out.  Why?  (1) It's very good fun, and (2) you get to see what Halmae players are doing with those rare moments of free time when they're not killing derro.


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## coyote6

Leverage is a fun show, one of my favorites. Parker FTW!

Speaking of Parker, I'm thinking Arden could stand some Parker-esque acrobatic escape moves about now.


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## Ilex

coyote6 said:


> I'm thinking Arden could stand some Parker-esque acrobatic escape moves about now.




*laughing* Yes, yes she could.


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## arun

Didn't know jonrog1 was involved in that show but hey I like it so congrats!


----------



## Ilex

*5x02*

Arden staggered backward, suddenly on the far side of the second pit from the pacing, snarling lizard-dog.  The amazing thought that she'd been magically teleported twice within the last hour – once by Signor Octavian and again, just now, by her cloak – flashed distantly across her mind, but mostly she was distracted by the creature across from her and the pain in her injured leg. 

###

Back near the barracks room, the snarling from down the hall got everyone's attention.  Savina felt chills cascade down her spine.  As the echo died away, Twiggy leaped to her feet.  "Arden's in trouble!" she said.

Kormick and Mena didn't have time to register full objections as Twiggy took off, running toward the first pit.  

"Wait, no – "

"Stop –"

Twiggy vanished, fey-stepping across the pit.  She re-appeared on the other side and continued running down the corridor.

Kormick gave an aggrieved sigh, backed up for a running start, jumped the pit, and followed Twiggy. 

"Rose –" said Mena.

"I've got you," Tavi told his sister.

Mena jumped the pit and waited anxiously on the other side as Tavi solicitously picked up Rose and jumped across with her in his arms.  

Savina felt a flash of panic as she watched her companions cross the pit.  _They're going to leave me behind!_  She couldn't possibly jump the pit, and she lacked the strength to make it across one of the ropes.  She stood, her eyes growing wider and wider as she considered the possibilities.  None of them were good.

Suddenly, Tavi was back, beside her. 

"Do you trust me?" he asked, holding out his hand.  

Savina nodded mutely and put her hand in his.

He led her toward the pit.  He took her staff and tossed it carefully across to Mena.  Then he picked her up in his arms and cradled her against his body.  Savina twined her arms around him, feeling the slight dampness on the back of his neck.  She was aware of the heat of him, the strangely attractive smell of his exertion.  Her heart pounding, not only from fear, she buried her face in his strong shoulder and felt his muscles tense as he jumped.  For an instant, she was weightless in his arms, and then they landed with a thump on the far side.

Tavi set her down, but Savina was trembling so hard that she almost fell.  Tavi caught her gently by the shoulders and held her, looking into her eyes.  

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She looked back at him, still unable to speak. 

"No!" yelled Mena, interrupting Savina's reverie.  "Corani, don't be a fool – Tavi, stop her!"

Tavi wheeled away from Savina and they all watched in horror as the pregnant dwarf launched herself into the air.  Her jump carried her across the pit, but only to the very, very edge.  Mena grabbed her and the two staggered, on the brink of disaster, until Mena threw all her weight backwards and Tavi helped to catch them as they fell to the ground, safe.

Mena, Tavi, Savina, and Rose assisted Corani to her feet.  "I must rescue my family," she said, daring them to argue.

"But … you must care for your baby, too," said Savina, aghast at the risks this mother-to-be was taking.  The dwarf stared at her defiantly.  

Mena sighed.

"Come on," said Tavi.  "We've lost a lot of time."

They found Arden, Twiggy, and Kormick farther down the dim corridor, near the second pit.  Light spilled toward them from a room across that pit, around the corner ahead.  Everything was silent.  Kormick was standing guard, his crossbow ready.  Arden was kneeling nearby, doing her best to bind up a bleeding wound on her thigh.  Twiggy was helping her.  

"What's the situation?" whispered Tavi.

Twiggy jumped up and joined them, whispering quickly.  "Stand-off.  Arden says there's a lot more derro around that corner.  They didn't see her, but a greenish-brown lizard-dog-like thing attacked her.  I caught a glimpse of it – it was ugly – but it ran back around the corner.  Then all the derro in there got quiet, and they've stayed that way.  So here we are."

"They'll be back," said Kormick, "and I'm not wildly enthusiastic about our strategic position, trapped between two pits."

"I saw a side opening back there," Tavi suggested.  "It might lead to an exit."

"It might also lead to ten derro chieftains at the head of an army of attack trees," Kormick said.  "But either way, I guess we should find out.  Slave, get yourself off the front line and do something useful."

Arden dragged herself to her feet and set off down the corridor toward the side opening, limping only slightly.  Savina was glad that her wound didn't seem severe.

"Tavi," ordered Mena.  "You should go with Arden."

Tavi looked slightly bemused at Mena's tone, but then he hurried after Arden.  _He never hesitates to confront danger_, mused Savina, watching after him as long as she could.  

### 

Arden crept up the side tunnel behind Tavi, her dagger at the ready.  The tunnel was narrower than the main corridor and sloped up steeply until it dead-ended in a shut door.

At Tavi’s gesture, Arden knelt and checked it.  "It's not locked, Signor," she said.  "Shall I -- ?"

He nodded.  Arden eased the door open a few inches.  She thought she had steeled herself for anything in this godsforsaken hellhole, but what she saw surprised her:  under the green glow of moss, a derro woman rocked in a rocking chair, engaged in some derro version of knitting.  Another woman carried more coals to a cozy fire, then sat down in a second chair and began spinning coarse yarn with a spindle.

As Tavi looked in over her shoulder, Arden wondered if he would order her to attack the two women.  She waited.  And waited.  Finally, she risked glancing up at him just as he looked down at her.  "Should we take them out?" he whispered, obviously uncertain.

She felt sympathy for the young nobleman confronted with a tough call:  either kill two apparently peaceful people or risk them becoming a threat later on.  She also felt relief that this wasn't _her_ tough call.  _Enjoy the burden of freedom, Signor_, she thought at him.  Out loud, she whispered politely, "Whatever you will, Signor Octavian."

He looked startled, then slightly disgusted with himself, as if he had only just remembered who she was.  "Right," he sighed.  He thought for a split second more, then made his decision.  "Close the door," he told her.  "We're going back."

Arden closed the door as silently as she'd opened it.  As they started back down the corridor, Tavi had an idea.  "Can you lock them in?" he asked.

"The door has no lock, Signor, but – "

Arden pulled out her dagger and wedged it as solidly as she could between the door and the rough frame.  It wasn't much of a barrier, but it would have to do.  

###

Just before they reached the main corridor, Tavi heard Kormick speak out loud, a shock after all the whispering.  "Well, hello!" he said.  Then came the _swish-thunk_ of a bolt flying true from his crossbow.

Tavi and Arden raced back to the front, passing Savina, Rose, and Corani, who had retreated from the second pit. 

"What happened?" demanded Tavi as he reached the pit's edge.

"One of the derro poked his head around the corner and I shot him most magnificently through the eye," answered Kormick.  "His comrades dragged him back into the room.  Tell me you found a backdoor to the outside world."

"No," said Tavi.  "It was kind of weird –"

Before he could say more, two derro soldiers jogged around the corner ahead, carrying the dead body of their comrade, the crossbow bolt still protruding from its eye.  

"Ah, kind of them.  They've come to show you my precise shooting," said Kormick, lining up a second shot.  But then, with a violent motion, the derro heaved the corpse with all their strength across the pit.  It slammed into Kormick, knocking him to the floor.  Before anyone could react, the two derro leaped across the pit after their comrade, drawing short swords.  Behind them, three more derro swarmed out of the room with – Tavi groaned without surprise – crossbows.

The battle went badly from the start.  Tavi defended Kormick as best he could until the Justicar managed to arise, but between the derro flanking him, the archers across the pit, and the pit itself, he didn't have a lot of space to maneuver.  Neither did Mena, who lacked a ranged weapon and had trouble getting close enough to hit the two nearby enemies.  The slave, usually nimble with either a blade or her sling, seemed hampered by her injuries:  only a few of her blows landed, and none with much force.  Slowly but surely, the derro established more of a foothold on the party’s side of the pit.  As they did, one whistled.  A pair of the lizard-dogs came raging around the corner and leaped across the pit to join the fray.

You've got ’em, buzzed Phoebe.  Sure, it's exciting right now, but you're going to be fine!

_As long as those derro women don't make trouble_, Tavi thought back, swinging with such artistry that the derro recoiled from the shock seemingly even before Tavi's blade made contact.

They were boring.  That was a great hit!  Do it again!

###

Farther down the hall, near the junction with the side corridor, Rose waited.  Savina and Corani had been with her, but Corani had, as usual, attempted to race toward the fight, and Savina had followed her, begging her to stop.  Rose hugged herself and dared to look past Savina and Corani to the battle itself.  Through the dimness, she could glimpse a tangle of arms, legs, and snapping lizard jaws accompanied by grunting and snarling and fragmented shouts of instruction.  It made her skin crawl, and yet – _I asked for this, in a way_, she thought to Whisper.  _Is this my destiny?  Will pain and death always find me?_

There was a noise from the side corridor, a clinking and scraping.  

Arden's dagger came skittering down the passageway to rest at her feet.

_That_, she thought, one eyebrow arching, _can’t be good…_


----------



## StevenAC

*Announcing... the Collected "Rose in the Wind"*

For those who wish to enjoy this excellent Story Hour in PDF form... With the approval of ellinor, Ilex and Fajitas (thanks, guys!), I've begun compiling _A Rose in the Wind_ in the same way as I've previously done with Sagiro's Story Hour and the original _Welcome to the Halmae_.

The first four completed chapters (plus the prologue) are now available here.  Enjoy!


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## Ilex

Thank you, StevenAC!  I know that Fajitas, ellinor, and I have all, at various times, enjoyed revisiting _Welcome to the Halmae_ through your PDF compilation.  We are very pleased that you are giving _A Rose in the Wind_ the same treatment.


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## WisdomLikeSilence

Wow, StevenAC, that's awesome.  I've also really enjoyed reading your PDF compiliations.  You always do such a nice job.  Thanks for the work and for sharing!


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## Baron Opal

Thanks StevenAC for your efforts. I have appreciated the collected Halmae stories as a resource for Halmaean theology in the past as well as re-reading the story hour.


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## Ilex

*5x03*

Rose screamed a warning. The two derro women were bearing down on her from the side corridor, swords at the ready.  The party was now trapped between two groups of assailants.  Chaos broke out as they each faced the battle in their own way:

Mena, who had been frustrated at her inability to join Kormick and Tavi at the very front of the fight near the pit, now realized that she was the only person free to come to Rose's rescue.  The two men couldn't disengage from their opponents, Twiggy was concentrating hard as she cast a spell, and Arden was hurt.  _So be it_, thought Mena, running toward Rose.  She threw herself between the two derro women and the cowering girl.  The derro were on her in a heartbeat, and she glimpsed fresh poison on their swords.

Arden had been leaning against the wall, taking a break.  Her leg hurt, her arm hurt, she hadn't been so tired since the mines, and this wasn't her fight.  _It *is* your fight_, some part of her insisted, but she ignored it.  _Let the freepeople take the blows.  It's their problem._  Then Rose cried out, Mena ran to her aid, and Arden remembered her words to the Defier the first time they had spoken together during the watch:  "If I am allowed, I will help Signora Roseanna."  It _was_ her fight.  She pushed off the wall and ran to join Mena near the side corridor.

Savina, her heart pounding, strained to see past Twiggy and Corani.  Beyond them, Tavi was balanced on the very edge of the pit, flanked by two derro warriors, blood streaming from his wounds.  Next to him, Kormick had his back to the wall; the lizard-dogs snapping at his torso were too close for the Justicar to swing his hammers effectively. The archers rained arrows into the struggling bodies, and Tavi yelled as one of them struck home.   It was horrible.  And Savina knew she had to get up there.  _Mother Alirria, defend your daughter_, she prayed as she pushed past Corani and Twiggy.  "No!  Let's have no suicidal heroics from you!" Kormick yelled at her, but she was already next to him.  She prayed for his health, and for Tavi's, ignoring the crossbow bolt that shot past her ear.  Then one of the lizards menacing Kormick wheeled around with a growl and launched itself at her neck.  Its teeth tore into her throat and shoulder.  Savina felt her blood gush.  

Mena was giving the two derro women a master class in advanced flail technique when the air around her rippled as a magical wave of force narrowly missed her.  "Rose!" cried Mena, turning to see if the spell had impacted Rose, but Rose had dodged, Whisper herding her protectively away from danger.  Mena turned back, straining her eyes to spot the spellcaster who must be farther up the side tunnel, but she could only make out a rippling in the air, a presence without a form.  The two women had powerful backup.  Though she struck out all the harder against them, Mena's heart sank:  _Three against one, and a magic-user among the three._  Then Arden appeared out of the dimness beside her and drove her short sword with terrible accuracy straight into the second woman's shoulder joint, pulling it out again across tendons and bone to render the arm useless.  Mena relaxed.  Slightly.

Twiggy felt shock as Savina staggered, her hand clutching her throat, blood pouring through her fingers.  _She was only trying to help!_ Twiggy's mind protested, even though she immediately knew that the thought was irrational.  Many things in life weren't fair, all the innocence in the world couldn't save you, and not all famous battles had been won by the good side.  Still, this didn’t have to be one of _those_ battles.  Twiggy stepped up behind Savina and cast an _illusory ambush_ on the archers across the pit.  Their rain of bolts ceased for a moment as her spell hit home resoundingly, causing all three to stare around in fear at invisible foes.  One of them leapt up and ran screaming straight into the pit.  Kormick flashed a brief grin at her.  "You terrifying, terrifying girl," he grunted approvingly.  

Tavi raised his hand, summoning magic at the speed of thought, and a crossbow bolt heading straight for Savina careened off an invisible shield and fell into the pit.  _This is my fault._  He spun and rained down fire from his sword on the derro in front of him, then shoved the creature backwards.  It followed the crossbow bolt into the pit.  How is it your fault!?  It's not your fault!  Two archers were still shooting, and two lizards and a derro remained on their side of the pit.  He tried to see farther down the corridor, to glimpse what had become of Mena and Rose, but he was boxed in.  _If I'd killed those women instead of trying to lock them in. . . _  Another arrow buried itself in his arm.  In frustration, he tried to strike a lizard and missed.  

Kormick followed up Tavi's missed blow with a resounding hit on the lizard, breaking its spine at last.  He kicked it into the pit, out of his way.  He had a bad feeling.  Yes, they were grinding down their foes, but the toll was high:  Savina, blood streaking her silly girlish armor, looked doomed.  The remaining lizard had latched on to her leg with its fierce jaws, and Kormick whacked at the beast’s haunch with his warhammer, struggling to keep its attention on him.  Until now, he'd held the thing’s attention a little too well, and was badly bloodied as a result.  A crossbow bolt grazed his forehead, sending an aggravating trickle of blood into the corner of his eye.  He guessed that, if he could see himself from afar, he'd have the numb, staggering look of a tough guy about to lose a street fight.  Maybe _he_ was the doomed one.  "Get back!" he entreated Savina again, knowing that she wouldn't listen.  Instead, the girl closed her eyes and then stood a little straighter as the wound on her neck closed.  Having healed herself, she held out her bloody hand and called, "Alirria!"  A blinding _lance of faith_ killed a second archer.  _Faith_, thought Kormick.  _I don't understand faith._ 

Mena didn’t have time to wonder how things were going on the other front:  although she and Arden had injured both of the derro women, they had suffered even more injuries themselves.  Arden stumbled, bleeding freely from a deep cut.  "Arden?" Mena asked, checking in, and Arden surprised her by smiling grimly.  "I hate this pl –" she began, just as a wave of force from the hidden spellcaster slammed into her.  Arden hit the ground like a stone and lay there, senseless.

Tavi was calculating.  Twiggy’s spells were taking care of the archer.  Corani’s axe was taking care of – _*whack*_ – correction, _had_ taken care of the lizard-dog.  _We're almost done here.  Can I go help Mena yet?_  He and Kormick were now flanking the remaining derro warrior.  He sliced at it just as Kormick, blood-streaked, seemed to read his mind.  "I've got this," the Justicar said.  "Go help your sister."  Tavi nodded his thanks and took off at once, hearing behind him the sound of the derro's death beneath Kormick's warhammer.  Racing down the corridor toward his tutor, Tavi found that things were as bad as he'd feared:  Mena was fending off attacks from two derro women as the slave lay crumpled limply behind her.  One of the women dove in, aiming a killing strike straight at Arden's exposed throat.  Heedless of the danger, Tavi threw himself over Arden's body, parrying the blow meant for the dying slave.   Pain shot through his arm as the derro blade sliced his wrist.  Then he lunged, plunging his blade into the derro woman's heart.  

Mena pulled Arden from the fray, pressed fingers to her throat, and found a faint pulse.  _Huff and puff, Twilight Bitch,_ she thought with grim pride at her student’s sacrifice and Arden’s resilience, _but we will not break._ She seized Arden by the shoulders.  "Not here," she commanded.  "They do.  Not.  Win.  Here.  Get up.”  Arden’s eyes flickered.  “_Get--_."

"—_up_," Arden heard, and struggled automatically to obey despite lacking, for the moment, any sense of where she was or what had happened.  She opened her eyes and saw Dame Filomena kneeling over her. "I was saying . . ." Arden groaned, and Mena nodded.  "Trust me.  I hate it more," she agreed, holding out her hand.  Arden grabbed it and sat up.  She gazed at the two battles around her:  Mena rejoining Tavi in the face-off against the remaining derro woman; the Justicar and the others dodging crossbow bolts.  It may have been her fight, but she wouldn’t be fighting more of it any time soon.  She was too weak to stand.

_(DM’s NOTE: And *that’s* what Mena’s _Inspiring Word_ power looks like…)_

Mena slammed the remaining derro woman on the back of the head with her flail.  At last, the woman dropped, unconscious.  Almost instantly, from up the hall, the hazy presence vanished and the door to the women's chamber slammed shut.  The spellcaster had fled.  Tavi raised his sword to execute the woman. "I should have killed you when I had the chance," he said.  Mena stopped him.  "She may know where the captives are," she explained.  "We must question her."

At the pit’s edge, Savina was finally ready to stop ignoring the Justicar, who really, _really_ wanted her to get off the front lines.  She was exhausted, the battle was nearly won, and she was reaching the limits of her healing power.  But as she moved out of the fray, she heard a trio of sounds behind her:  A scream from Twiggy—"Corani!"—then gurgling—then a thud.  Savina wheeled and ran back.  Corani had collapsed to the ground, dying, a crossbow bolt protruding from her neck.  

For Kormick, that was the last straw.  Having struck down the pregnant lady dwarf with a lucky shot, the derro archer had a smug look on his face that Kormick simply didn't feel was justifiable, given that its side was clearly losing.  Sure, Kormick's whole body ached, he was bleeding from multiple punctures, and everyone else was looking at least as ragged as he was feeling.  But this guy looked _smug_.  Kormick raised his warhammer and pointed it at the archer.  "You," he said, pronouncing its death sentence.  The archer's face fell.  The creature squeezed off one last shot – it glanced off Kormick's leg, adding another trickle of blood to Kormick's collection – turned, and ran.  Kormick jumped the pit and followed.

Arden watched Savina and Twiggy rush to Corani's side.  Savina glanced worriedly back at Arden, once, then looked away, laid her hands upon Corani, and concentrated for an unusually long time.  Finally, she collapsed backward, drained, as Twiggy helped Corani sit up.  Arden heard the Blessed Daughter tell Twiggy, "Give me a moment to rest… I can't do anything more right now...  I'm so tired."  What had happened was clear:  with a choice between healing Corani or Arden, Savina had chosen Corani.  Arden looked away.  _The Blessed Daughter did the right thing_, she told herself firmly.  _Corani is pregnant, even more hurt than me, and hasn't asked for any of this, either.  Getting angry about it would be unreasonable._  Nonetheless, aware that this place would probably kill her if her mistress didn't help her, she felt her face burn with anger and shame.  "Expendable," the Justicar had called her.

Kormick entered the dining hall to see the formerly smug derro archer sprinting for a spiral staircase at the far side.  Kormick didn't feel like running.  At all.  He planted his feet, raised his sore arm, took aim, and sent a crossbow bolt with spectacular accuracy straight through the creature's leg.  It yowled and fell to its knees.  "Now," announced Kormick, "we can take our time."  As the derro dragged itself up the first few steps, Kormick sauntered across the room.  He arrived at the staircase just as the derro reached the fourth step.  Kormick leisurely traded his crossbow for a warhammer and took aim at the back of the creature's skull.  _Crack._


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## babomb

Poor Arden.


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## Ilex

babomb said:


> Poor Arden.




Arden appreciates your understanding and sympathy.  Anyone who sympathizes in such a way with Arden's plight is far less likely to find themselves a victim of soup poisoning.

To be (grudgingly) fair about the Savina-heals-Arden bit, of course, Savina's triage is actually sensible.  Arden's kneejerk reaction is "all freepeople are always out to get me";  she can't quite cut this off even when the evidence doesn't support it.  (The healing bit was also especially dramatic at the table because both Corani and Arden were now down to one or zero healing surges -- I forget exactly, but we were _hurting_ -- so we were both heavily reliant on rare non-surge-requiring powers.)

It's too bad that Arden will never know (and would _never_ guess) that Tavi has just saved her in a gloriously self-sacrificing, downright heroic manner from the derro woman's attempt to kill her with a coup de grace.  That might have helped Arden's paranoia a little bit.


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## jonrog1

As my father always said: "The trick to killing a man on a set of stairs ... is to let the stairs do most of the work."


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## Ilex

*Quiz #2!*

The regular update will be delayed for one week due to a happy (but highly distracting) event within the group that deserves its own separate announcement.  In the meantime, let's review (thanks to Baron Opal's inspiration) our Halmaean theology.

This sidebar from the original _Welcome to the Halmae_ story hour sums up the basics on the Halmae's four deities.  Study it.  Study it well.  Then take this important quiz:

1.  At Rose's extravagant coming-of-age ball at the beginning of this story hour, Kormick distresses Intransigent the Just by referring to Kettenek's justice as what?

(A) a pebble 
(B) a flower 
(C) a flame 
(D) a rat 

2.  _If_ he had been the least bit interested in _not_ distressing Brother Intransigent, what more orthodox metaphor for justice might Kormick have used?

(A) a boulder
(B) a war horse
(C) a sword
(D) a kneecap

3) To which of the Halmae deities was Mena devoted before she became a Sedellan Defier of the Wind?

(A) Kettenek
(B) Alirria
(C) Ehkt
(D) Euro

4) In Lord's Edge, a visit to which Alirrian sect gives Twiggy an inspiring glimpse of the wider world?

(A) The Givers of Life
(B) The Receivers of Life
(C) The Handmaidens
(D) The Water Walkers 


DISCUSSION QUESTION:

If we can assume that Kettenek's favorite TV show is _Law & Order_, what are the favorite TV shows of Alirria, Ehkt, and Sedellus?


ANSWERS:
[sblock]Click on the letter to review the relevant section of the story:  B, A, C, D.[/sblock]


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## babomb

Ilex said:


> DISCUSSION QUESTION:
> 
> If we can assume that Kettenek's favorite TV show is _Law & Order_, what are the favorite TV shows of Alirria, Ehkt, and Sedellus?




Ehkt's is probably Survivorman.


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## ellinor

*Announcement!*

Thanks, babomb -- good one!  And an announcement:

Fajitas has commented that there is a thin line between inventing a pantheon and inventing a religion, and that (despite our efforts to compare him to L.Ron Hubbard) he thinks of himself as having done the former.

At the risk of sounding too much like the latter, we would like to wish the marital blessings of Alirria and Kettenek to Thatch and Jenber, who just returned from their honeymoon.

YAY!  Congratulations.

Attached is a commemorating picture of the game group (That is: Bad Monkey Jeff, Eva, Spyscribe, Jenber, Thatch, Ilex, WisdomLikeSilence, ellinor, and Fajitas -- sadly, jonrog1 could not make it). Trust me, we dress up like this for every game session.


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## Ilex

*5x04*

_Slap_.  "Wake up."

Mena crouched over the unconscious derro woman she'd ordered Tavi to spare.

_Slap, slap_.  "I said wake up."

The derro woman's eyes flew open and she spat a curse in broken Dwarven.  Mena hurled a curse back.  She sensed rather than saw Corani lunge forward, longing to kill the captive, and Tavi hold her back.  Beyond them, the rest of the party gathered, looking on. 

Mena kept her eyes locked on the derro's.

"Do you have children?" Mena asked in Dwarven. 

The woman's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

"Do you want them to live?" Mena asked, keeping her voice calm and even.  She saw the flicker of fear in the woman's eyes and waited.  The woman nodded.

"Cooperate, and I give you my word that none of us will harm your children.  Where are the dwarven prisoners?"

"Some here."  The woman's eyes darted up the side corridor.

"With the spellcaster?" Mena asked.

"Protects with spells."

"Where are the others?"

"Don't know."  Mena raised her eyebrows and, at that small gesture, the derro cringed.  "Don't know!"

Mena decided to believe her.  "I need to knock you unconscious now," she told the woman.  

The woman shied away.  "Will not fight."

Mena smiled almost sadly.  Gods, this would be easier if the woman went back to cursing her.  "That may well be.  But you wouldn't take the chance either, if our positions were reversed, and I can't risk it."

"Do you have children?" the derro whispered.

There was no real answer to that, not that it mattered. Mena slammed her fist into the side of the derro's head.  The woman drooped backward.  "Give me some rope," said Mena.  Someone passed it to her, and she bound the derro's hands and feet, gently but tightly.  Then she straightened and found Corani watching her solemnly.

"If we find our children alive," said Corani, "I will abide by the promise you just made.  If not . . . "

"_Her_ children are innocent, too," said Mena.  Corani looked skeptical.  Mena looked her steadily in the eye and said without raising her voice: "And if you make a move towards any child, Corani, I will stop you myself by whatever means necessary."

During the interrogation, Kormick had returned from the dining hall.  He was wearing magical bracers that he'd stripped off a derro warrior's corpse, and he was carrying a few other items:  a pair of vision-sharpening goggles, which he handed to Twiggy; a pouch of seventy gold pieces, which he added to the money that Savina already carried; and two healing potions and a salve, all of which he offered to Tavi. 

"Arden," Tavi said.  Arden, who hadn't yet risen to her feet after her brush with death, looked up from where she was sitting against a wall just in time to catch the healing salve that Tavi matter-of-factly tossed her way.  Her eyes widened, but Tavi had already turned away to consult with Savina about the potions.  

As Arden wasted no time applying the salve, Kormick turned to Mena.  "This peaceful, non-violent reasoning you used with the captive," he commented.  "It's exactly the sort of enlightened approach that might go over well in Dar Und.  I'll remember to introduce it."

Mena, not sure if Kormick was being obtuse or willful in defining what she'd just done as peaceful and non-violent, then led the way up the side corridor.  They eased open the door that Tavi and Arden had opened earlier.  The fire crackled in the derro women's recently deserted room and a chair still rocked slightly.

_Crash_.  The chair exploded into splinters.  Mena gripped her sword and whirled to see Twiggy lowering her casting hand. 

"That'll teach it," observed Kormick. 

"It was moving," said Twiggy, jumpy and defiant.  _The longer we're in this horrible place_, Mena thought, _self-control is going to become an increasing rare and precious resource.  Dungeons are a terrible terrible idea.  Whoever thought that trapping heavily armed and nervous people in a confined space with only one way out would be a clever little challenge should be dropped down to whatever man-eating plants are populating the basement.  We need to get out of here before we all lose control_.

Across the room was a heavy closed door, apparently barred on the far side.  Tavi and Kormick put their shoulders to it.  The door shook in its frame.  Under their blows and kicks it flew off its hinges and crashed into the room beyond. 

Tavi and Kormick strode through the opening, weapons ready.  Mena was on their heels.  They stopped short as they saw that the room on the far side was a nursery, its walls lined with cradles and small bunks, carved toys scattered on the floor.  Huddled in the corner were a number of children and a few infants, dwarf and derro mingled together.  Between them and the party stood a shimmery, derro-shaped figure – the spellcaster. 

Mena stepped forward as the rest of the party joined Tavi and Kormick behind her.  "We will not harm your children," she said.  "We merely wish to reclaim those who belong to us."  The shimmer took a step forward.  "Stay back," came a voice.

"Send out the dwarven children," said Mena, "and we'll leave you and your children alone."

"Swear blood," the voice demanded.

_Of course_, Mena sighed internally.  For all their mutual hatred, dwarves and derro apparently shared the view that honor and parentage were somehow related. _Why an oath on my family?  Why not anything else in the world?_ she thought, but she knew that if she didn’t comply, they’d never be able to rescue the children.  She reached into the catalogue of her mind and recalled what she'd studied of dwarven oath-making.  Then she looked around, found a small stone, and picked it up.  "Arden, your dagger, please," she asked, and Arden gave her the weapon.  Mena cut her own palm, smeared her blood on the stone, and tossed it onto the floor near the spellcaster.  "I swear," she said, “by my blood.”  _Please, let that be enough without the name._

The spellcaster's shimmer made a gesture and stepped aside.  Three dwarven toddlers, one barely managing to carry an infant, moved forward tentatively, leaving only derro children behind.

"May I approach to get them?" Mena asked.

"You," answered the voice firmly.

Mena stepped forward, knelt down, and took the infant from the toddler, who stared at her solemnly.  She stood up, nodded once to the spellcaster, turned, and escorted the children briskly toward the door, bracing herself for a parting shot of magical force hitting her square between the shoulderblades.  The rest of the party preceded her out of the room.  The spellcaster did not stop them.

As they passed through the doorway into the room with the fireplace, one of the other toddlers squeaked:  he'd seen Corani.  All three toddlers raced around Mena and ran to Corani, who tried to hug them all at once, greeting them:  "Gulst!  Ladini!  Tothi!  And is that Fulri?"  The toddlers were all chattering, and Gulst was trying assertively to get Corani to hold him, throwing his arms – and his weight – around her neck.  As she nearly toppled over, Kormick stepped in and swooped the three-year-old up in his arms.

"No strangling the pregnant lady," he said.  Gulst grinned at him uncomprehendingly, and Mena nearly laughed out loud as she watched the Justicar's face soften irresistibly into a warm answering smile.  Kormick set Gulst down, bemused and almost self-conscious.  "Behave yourself," he said, failing to sound stern.

"Your cheeks are glowing," Tavi told Kormick, straight-faced. 

"Alirria has blessed you," added Savina, utterly serious.  Mena had to admit, Kormick really did look much better:  he was standing straighter, and somehow, his wounds no longer looked recent, but rather as if they were well on their way to healing.

_DM’s NOTE: The original module that I based this adventure off of calls for the party to emerge from the dungeon to take extended rests when needed, and then return to the caves.  This works in context because the creatures are not all working together, and thus they might reasonably not discover that the caves had been invaded and people slaughtered during the eight hours the party spent napping.

Clearly, clearly that was not going to work here.

So I ended up making the PCs do this entire module without an extended rest.

Since I knew that this was going to make Healing Surges and Daily Powers an *extremely* scarce resource, I decided to help them out by providing extra ones.  Every dwarven prisoner that they rescued came with a power—some of them had Daily Powers, others had the equivalent of a Paladin’s Lay on Hands power (heal as if you had spent a healing surge without actually spending one).

The dwarven children, they provided healing surges.  I mean, seriously, who wouldn’t be inspired to keep on fighting after looking at those adorable little tykes with their big, dwarven puppy-dog eyes…_

"Yes, yes, of course, children are magical and precious reminders of our youth.  If we're done here," said Kormick, "there's a door in the dining hall that I'm eager to break open."

As they made their way back to the dining hall, Kormick tapped Savina on the shoulder.  "I'd like a word with you, young lady," he said.  "What you did in this last fight, running straight into the center of it, was very brave, yes?  Very brave and very foolish.  Never do it again."

"I – I wanted to help," protested Savina.

"Never, ever again."

"But I – it makes me feel good to – "

"Never."

"But Alirria protects – "

"_Ever._"

Savina said nothing more, but she didn't look cowed.  If anything, her expression reminded Mena of the expression the young Giver wore when caring for patients:  she looked sorry for Kormick.

When they reached the dining hall, Mena was proud to see Tavi move instinctively to help Kormick with the barred door and Twiggy station herself on watch in a spot where a well-placed _magic missile_ would take out anyone or anything – even a rogue rocking chair – that might dare to show itself on the landing at the top of the room's spiral staircase. 

Arden leaned against the wall, still weak.  Despite the salve, she wouldn't last long if they kept up this pace.  As Kormick turned and opened his mouth to summon her, Mena beat him to it:

"Arden –"

Arden jerked upright defensively, like any slave caught loafing.  _By the gods,_ Mena thought at her in frustration, _when we're keeping watch together, we converse like friends.  Please trust me._  Aloud, she said, "Would you please guard the corridor we came from?"

Arden relaxed.  "Yes, Dame Filomena."  She moved to a vantage point where she could see the second pit.  She leaned back against the wall, caught Mena's eye, and soundlessly mouthed, "Thank you."

Kormick and Tavi heaved the bar off the door and opened it. 

Mena joined the two as they crept down the short corridor beyond.  It opened up into a room lit by a single guttering torch – a room containing a row of barred cells. 

In the second-to-last cell, someone moved.  In the last was a lump of rags.

Tavi called in Dwarven, "We seek the husband and sister-wives of Corani." 

A voice answered from the second-to-last cell with a mixture of exhaustion and pride: "I am Sertani, first wife of Kartan Rockminder.  Who are you?"

"Friends.  We're helping Corani.  Is anyone else here?" asked Tavi.

"Only Ordren, one of our caravan guards, and myself," said Sertani.  The lump in the final cell, a badly beaten dwarven man, stirred painfully and groaned in response to his name.  "They took my husband first.  They said something about the lower tunnels.  Kartan – Kartan was defiant.  But they took him anyway."

Mena heard a rattle as Kormick lifted a keyring off a hook on the wall. 

"I would never tolerate such lazy, lazy jail-keeping in Dar Und," he said happily, and set about trying to find the key that unlocked Sertani's cell.

"There were others in your party, correct?" Mena asked Sertani.

"Yes," she said.  "Our children were taken.  I don't know the fate of Thurran, Kartan's eldest son.  He is seven, and we must find him.  There are four other children, toddlers and the baby –"

"We found the four," said Tavi.  "They're safe, down the hall."

"Truly?  Praise the gods."  Sertani's fists clenched on the bars as she watched Kormick work.

"Do you know what became of the other wives?" Mena asked.

"Zerkai tried to kill herself, but they stopped her.  She is pregnant and vowed not to let them have her child, no matter the cost.  They took her and Jalissi.  They also took Mirtal, our cook."

"Mirtal," groaned Ordren, dragging himself upright to his knees.  His face was nothing but bruises.

Kormick got Sertani's cell open and she stepped out quickly.

"They took Mirtal," murmured Ordren, now staggering to his feet, as Kormick went to work on his cell's door.  "They took him . . . " Mena knew that in the polygamous dwarven society, young dwarven men, not yet advanced enough in years and craft to support families, often formed loving attachments to other young men.  Ordren's worry was that of a lover.  "Have you found Mirtal?" he asked, begging them with his eyes to say yes.

"Not yet," said Mena.  The weight of the work still undone suddenly felt heavy.  So many people left to save, but how long until they were too weak to fight?    

With a rattle, the door opened, and Kormick reached out to steady the young dwarf, who managed to walk with some assistance.  They all hurried back up the corridor to the dining hall.

After a few minutes of reunion, Sertani turned to address the group.  "We must find Kartan, Thurran, and the others," she said.  "Corani has told me of your kind assistance; I would be grateful if you would continue to help us.  If not, we go on alone."

Mena looked over the dwarven party:  four babies, a man weak from torture, and two women, one pregnant.  _So many innocents.  How long until a misstep puts them in danger again?_  "I think," she said, "that _we_ should go on alone . . . assuming we can find someplace safe for you to wait for us."

"Absolutely not," said Sertani.  Behind her, Corani nodded fiercely, and even Ordren looking up in outrage.  "We have skills, we can help.  More importantly, we have honor, and it's our family.  I understand that our route lies up those stairs?"

Mena sighed.  Dwarven honor could be so . . . problematic.  "Yes, but –"

"Then respectfully, new friends," interrupted Sertani, "what are we waiting for?"


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## ellinor

*6x01*

A stale breeze wafted up from behind the group, hot and stinky like the breath of a drunkard, carrying the stench of sweat and blood and smoke to the balcony on which they now stood.  Dead derro littered the floor of the dining hall below.

“Stay there,” Kormick whispered.  He pressed one finger to his lips and held his other hand out toward the crowd of dwarves, in the universal signal for “stop right there and do not move a muscle if you know what is good for you, in the name of all that is holy and sensible.”  

They stopped, mostly.  Corani pushed her way through, axes up.  Savina hastened to her side, whispering “you are needed here, to protect your family.”  Corani stopped.

<i>Expedient,</i> thought Kormick, and scouted ahead.  The hallway terminated with a room to their left, and he peeked in.  

As he sneaked back silently to report, Twiggy whispered to him.  “You’re really good at that.”

“When you’re smuggling smokes, booze, and Handmaidens in and out of a magic academy at age 14, you learn some stealth,” he whispered.  Twiggy smirked.  

“So?”  whispered Tavi, “what’s in there?”

Kormick explained in hushed tones.  More of that electrical moss.  Several cobwebs, thick enough to obscure the view, running from floor to ceiling in the far left corner of the room.  Three derro, gathered around a web with something inside.  Dark stairs descending from the back of the room, and some sort of natural crevice in the right hand side, leading to who-knows-where.

“What would make a spider web of that size?”  Mena inquired.

“Well, naturally, that would be a giant . . . ooh.”  Kormick clenched his jaw.  _She already knew the answer to that one, didn’t she_.

But there was no use standing about.  Tavi raised his sword.  Twiggy pulled her new goggles down over her glasses.  Kormick signaled to the slave, who sneaked up to the door with him and slid it open silently.  They shared a look, nodded, and fired.  One.  Two.  Kormick’s crossbow bolts sunk into one of the derro, and a rock from Arden’s sling sunk into the top of one of the webs.  It stuck there, caught in the web.  The hit derro screamed.  The other derro raised their axes.  The fight was on.  _But where is the giant spider?_ Kormick thought.

As the hit derro pulled Kormick’s crossbow bolts out of its arm, Twiggy cast from the doorway.  An orb of force warped the air, whizzing past Arden’s head and careening off the already-injured derro, which stumbled as Tavi charged in, slicing a gash in its chest.  Blood dripped down its armor and it gurgled a yell up toward the ceiling behind Tavi.  

Tavi wheeled around.  “The ceiling!”  He pointed with his sword at the only corner of the room that had been invisible from the doorway.  There was a derro *clinging to the ceiling.*  Not just clinging:  skittering forward, rearing back . . . and then it VOMITED, covering Tavi and Mena in web-like goo and spraying the rest of the room in splotchy webs.  “Eew!”  screamed Savina, as she tried to move in toward the action, her hair caught in the sticky net.  

The room’s green cast became brighter as Tavi’s sword lit up and exploded in green flame.  It burned Tavi—but it also burned the webs, and he was free.  “We can burn them!”  he yelled, and let loose another burst of green flame.  The derro screeched as flames seared their flesh and shriveled the webs around them.    

“Tavi!  Behind you!” Mena was struggling in the webs, as one of the derro climbed up the wall behind Tavi, in a flanking position with the more-injured one.  _It’s not a giant spider,_ thought Kormick, _it’s whole group of Ketkath derro-spider hybrid freaks of nature._  He heard a satisfying CRACK as his hammer connected with one of their legs.  _That’s just *wrong*._ 

The spider-thing on the ceiling reared back to spit at Kormick . . . and THWACK.  Kormick heard it before he saw it – a stone had flown from the slave’s sling right between the spider-thing’s eyes.  The creature didn't fall, but it hesitated, obviously hurt.  Kormick made a mental note to lay off the slave jokes.

The creature on the wall pulled an axe out of its belt and struck viciously, leaving a gash in Tavi’s arm.  “Tavi, you need help over there?”  Twiggy yelled, from near the doorway.  She was barely visible through the thick webs, but she was raising her arms to cast.

“Nope, got it,” Tavi said, and a cyclone of red flame exploded from his sword as he swung with a vicious backhand.  _Like roasting from the inside,_ Kormick thought, as the blade and fire together sliced into derro-spider flesh.  The walls behind them sparked as Tavi’s fire hit the glowing moss.  But suddenly the creature on the wall in front of Tavi reared back and spit its sticky web, and Tavi was pinned to the wall, exposed and defenseless against the poison axe of the creature’s still-standing ally.

A spell from Twiggy had confused the spider-thing on the ceiling—it had swatted at the air and skittered to the other side of the room—but now it was rearing back again, ready to let loose another shower of web-like goo.  “That’s disgusting!”  yelled Savina, and she pushed past Kormick until she was almost directly underneath the spider-thing.  _Didn’t we talk about not doing that?_ Kormick thought—as Savina raised her arms and cried out to Alirria.  _Sacred flame_ descended, searing the spider-thing and burning away several webs.  But Savina couldn’t retreat as well as she could attack:  the creature spat again, trapping Savina in a gooey mess, and then lunged forward to BITE the girl.  Its fangs sunk into her shoulder.  “Poison!”  yelled Savina, squirming and writhing against the webs that pinned her to the floor.

Kormick felt a rush of fraternal compassion and frustration for Savina.  She was caught in the webs, flailing with her staff, her face twisted from the pain of the poisoned gash on her side.  Blood flowed from her wound, and she could not reach to staunch it.  It had taken a lot of faith— and a lot of stupidity, but mostly a lot of faith—for her to rush to the front of the fight like that.  

He raised his hammers to swing again.  But the spider thing reared back and spit again, covering Kormick’s face and arms with webbing—and then, just as it had with Savina, it LUNGED, digging its teeth into Kormick’s shoulder.  Poison burned into the wound.  He couldn’t move.  “You,” he said, pointing at Savina as she hung, trapped, beside him—“hang in there, kid.”  

On the other side of the room, Tavi was also taking a beating.  Two derro-things—one standing, the other clinging to the wall— were swinging at him with axes, and connecting.  He was weak with poison.  Frankly, the webs pinning him to the wall seemed to be the only things holding him up.  His sword hit stone as often as it hit derro.

Then Mena’s voice rang out as she freed herself from the webs and struck out at the back of the standing derro.  “Come on, Tavi, you trained for this!”  Tavi’s eyes grew determined, his sword ignited, and he began burning away the webs that held him to the wall.  _It’s amazing what you can train for,_ Kormick thought.

Kormick and Savina remained trapped, menaced by a spider-thing on the ceiling, but the slave was—ironically—still free.  Arden dove through an impossibly narrow gap in the webs surrounding Kormick, somersaulted as she landed, and came up right behind the creature.  STAB.  It staggered and fell, and Arden stepped back, her hand covered in its blood.  “Where did you learn—” Kormick began.

“Dodging the whip, Justicar,” she replied.  And flashed a grim smile.

_Okay, if the slave is making slave jokes now, then *I'm* still making slave jokes._

“Tavi!”  Savina broke free and rushed forward to heal Tavi, and then raised her arms again. “Alirria!”  A burst of sacred flame erupted from the ceiling, scorching the standing derro-thing that had been attacking him.  It fell in a heap on the floor, and Tavi cut through the webs with renewed strength.  

The last remaining derro-creature clung to the wall with the panicked look of a debtor about to run out the back door when the crew came to collect.  But there was no outlet.  SLICE.  Tavi’s blade found a home in its neck and it fell, landing with a dull THUD in a thick tangle of webbing. 

And the room was, finally, quiet.  

“Jan, are you hurt?”  Savina asked, softly.  Kormick had freed himself from the webs, but still could barely move.

“Actually, yes.”  

Savina laid her gentle hands on his shoulders, and Kormick felt the warmth of her healing. “Thanks.”  He lit the torch from his pack and began burning the webs that now filled most of the room, gathering pouches and amulets from the dead derro as he passed.  He handed the pouch of residuum to Twiggy and the potions to Savina.  “More healing,” Savina explained, and handed one to Mena, who quietly passed it to Arden.  Kormick didn’t stop her.

“Fire is cleansing,” Tavi said, as he watched the webs shrivel and burn.

Mena looked at the back of her hand, marred by burn scars.  “Don’t care for fire.”  She paused.  “Then again, I don’t care for killing, and I don’t care for dungeons.  Yet here we are.”  She moved a derro body, to inspect it . . . but discovered that the tangle of webs it had landed on was more than it seemed.  There was a body tangled among the webs.  She pulled the webs away from the body.  It was a dwarf.  A male dwarf, with salt-and-pepper hair.  Once strong, but now gaunt.  Its face was twisted in a rictus of terror.

Corani gasped from behind the group, then pushed forward through them to approach the body.  “No!  Kartan!”  Her husband, now dead from some derro horror.  

The elder wife, Sertani, strode forward and looked down at the body, putting her hand on Corani’s shoulder.  “We must find Thurran,” she said, softly.  “He is the head of the Rockminder clan, now.”  

Corani knelt down beside the body with effort, brushing a limp strand of hair back from the once-proud forehead, peeling away a cobweb.  Then she looked up at Kormick.  “He was a sculptor.”

Savina was looking at Kormick. 

Everyone was looking at Kormick.

“Oh,” Kormick said.  “Right.  Um, rites.”  He pulled out his little text and flipped through it, as dwarves filed into the room.  Sertani pulled the three-year-old to the front of the group.  The kid looked up at Kormick.  Kormick kept flipping pages.  _Where is that section with the rites . . ._

And he looked at Savina, her eyes bright with hope, and he looked down at the kid, his eyes wide with expectation, and he stopped flipping pages.  He closed the book, and said what came into his head.  About honor.  Bravery.  Then…craftsmanship.  Singlemindedness of purpose.  Devoting oneself to family.  Doing what is necessary.  Dedicating one’s life to a single, certain, goal.  

Savina translated.

At the end, there was a little tear in Sertani’s eye.

There was a little tear in Kormick’s eye, too.  

As they silently built a cairn over Kartan’s body, Kormick considered the experience of performing rites for what felt like the first time.  _Hm.  Religion can be comforting_, he thought, touching the spot on his shoulder where Savina had healed him.  _Not just a tool for establishing authority._  It felt new.  Strange.  More comfortable than he would expect.  

The three-year old placed the last stone atop his father’s grave.


----------



## Rughat

Too much work kept me from reading for a while, but I came back to find this:



Ilex said:


> _The longer we're in this horrible place_, Mena thought, _self-control is going to become an increasing rare and precious resource.  Dungeons are a terrible terrible idea.  Whoever thought that trapping heavily armed and nervous people in a confined space with only one way out would be a clever little challenge should be dropped down to whatever man-eating plants are populating the basement. _




Hilarious!


----------



## ellinor

Thanks, Rughat -- we have Jenber to thank for that line of Mena's.

Naturally, when she said "whoever" she meant Ehkt.  Naturally.  Ehkt and his little challenges.


----------



## Jenber

ellinor said:


> Thanks, Rughat -- we have Jenber to thank for that line of Mena's.
> 
> Naturally, when she said "whoever" she meant Ehkt.  Naturally.  Ehkt and his little challenges.





Yes.  Ehkt.  That was it.


----------



## Fajitas

Jenber said:


> Yes.  Ehkt.  That was it.




Do not taunt the happy fun GM...


----------



## Jenber

Fajitas said:


> Do not taunt the happy fun GM...




Ehkt it is, then.


----------



## ellinor

*6x02*

This room is disgusting, Acorn thought, loudly.  

Twiggy agreed.  _This whole place is disgusting._  It felt like days had passed since the group had descended into the derro warren.  In reality, it had probably been less than an hour.  But so much had happened.  The fire, the smoke, the children, the webs…and now the Dwarven man—Corani’s husband—the one person in the world who might be able to tell them where the Spring was—was dead.  So much death…_*no.*  For once in your life,_ she told herself, _don’t think._  It hurt to think.  And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, it didn’t hurt to *do*.  Twiggy shoved her thoughts into the back of her mind, raised her goggles, and tried to wipe her glasses clean on the arm of her ash-stained dress. 

“Chalk up one for the good guys,” said Kormick.  “Although it would have been nice to have your flaming ball of death back there.”

Kormick’s gallows humor made Twiggy feel herself again.  “And what did you say you did during _your_ years at the Sorcerers Academy?”

It has been a long day for all of us,” Mena cut in, “but it is far from over. We must keep moving.” She surveyed the two exits available to them: the dark stairway descending in front of them and the long crevice in the wall to their side.

“We know what the stairway holds,” said Kormick.  “Undoubtedly, further chambers of carnage and ill-kept death.  What we need to know is what’s down that crevice.  Arden, why don’t you—”

He paused and turned to Twiggy.  “Young lady, perhaps you could send your mouse, as you did earlier?”

I heard that, thought Acorn, and I don’t understand why Arden can’t do it.  He was about to ask her to.  I know it.  She’s a slave.  That’s what slaves do.  Things that people like us shouldn’t have to— 

_Come on, now, Acorn,_ Twiggy thought in response, _you know how I feel about that.  But this is no time to talk about the ethics of slave ownership.  Arden has been injured many times today, and clearly she has a problem with small spaces.  You can do this.  You can be brave.  I know you can._

Acorn paused for a long time.  You promise you’ll be here when I get back?

_I Promise.  100%_

Acorn was gone for a long time.  A very long time.

Eventually, though, he returned, with a report.  The crevice led for a very long way down a gentle slope.  The ground was uneven.  At the end, there seemed to be another room, with derro voices in it.  They didn’t hear me, though, I’m positive, Acorn thought.  I was *very* quiet.

Just then, they heard a faint noise.  Not from the crevice, though—from down the stairs.  A voice, maybe, or something breaking.  Then quiet.

They snuck down, Arden and Tavi in the lead, Kormick just behind them.  The others followed.

The dwarves and Rose hung back in the stairway, within earshot.  Gulst, the three-year-old, clung to his mother’s leg.  Rose patted his head reassuringly, but her face told a story of sorrow and consternation.

The stairway opened up into a large room—a workspace of sorts.  Tables lined the walls, strewn with candles, feathers, herbs, and other arcane accoutrements.

_If I didn’t know any better,_ Twiggy thought, [/i]I’d say someone had set up a telep---[/i] She turned around.  On the wall behind her was a large circle, ringed in what appeared to be heavily corrupted Dwarven lettering.  _Oh._

Just then, something appeared in the middle of the room.  Twiggy couldn’t quite tell what it was.  A derro, perhaps, wearing sorcerer’s robes?  WHOOSH.  Twiggy felt her mind become cloudy, and saw Mena fall to one knee, clutching her head.

As Twiggy struggled to shake herself to her senses, she saw Savina rush in to heal Mena.  Arden tumbled into the fray, stabbing the derro sorcerer with her shortsword.  And Ordren—the dwarf who had been so badly injured—ran past her and charged the thing, scratching and BITING it on the leg.  In her mental fog, the whole scene seemed . . . not quite real.  

_(DM’S NOTE: That’d be Ordren’s Daily Power—a re-skinned version of the Ranger’s _Hunter’s Bear Trap_ wherein he flings himself at someone, wraps himself around their leg, and proceeds to bite at their kneecaps.)_

Out of the corner of Twiggy’s eye, something moved.  Was it Tavi?  Kormick?  A derro?  All three?  In her fog, she couldn’t be sure.  Then a THUNK.  AUGGH!  A derro voice cried out in anguish.

###

While the women contended with the sorcerer, Tavi joined Kormick in confronting a derro who'd rushed in from another door.  Or, rather, Tavi stood back and watched Kormick pound the derro with his warhammers.  Knees.  Gut.  With every blow, the derro let out a gurgle of pain.  Kormick’s movements seemed almost meditative.  _I’ve been training in combat precision for my entire life,_ Tavi thought, _but what this guy does . . . it’s really quite beautiful._

But Tavi didn’t have much time to admire Kormick’s skill.  A second opponent ran into the room, his jaw determined, his hands flaming with sorcerous fire.  He bobbed and weaved like a boxer, and took a swing at Tavi.  It connected, and burned.  The fight was on.

###

Twiggy looked up at the teleport circle on the wall as the fog cleared from her mind.  There was a wavering on the surface, almost as if she was looking into water.  It wasn’t her imagination.  _We have to do something about that,_ she thought.  _Or we’re leaving the door open for our death._

Twiggy had done quite a bit of research on teleport circles, before setting out on this journey.  But those circles were different.  They were organized, ordered, with the elegance of magic learned at the Academy.  Not the crude chaos of the derro.  And anyway, back in Pol Henna, Tavi had done most of the work of setting up the circle.

_Not most of the work,_ Twiggy told herself, _just some of it.  And I had to correct something.  And since then, I’ve controlled my power in a way I never thought possible._ She thought back to the flaming sphere in the entry way.  _I can do this._ 

Twiggy looked around.  The other women were stalking the sorcerer, who flitted in and out of sight—invisibility spells, she thought.  The men were engaged with two particularly vicious derro in the corner.  _Don't think about those things,_ Twiggy told herself.  [/i]One problem at a time.[/i]

"Mena!  Savina, Arden!" she called, and pointed to the teleport circle on the wall.  "We have to shut this thing down.  Now!"  

"Tell us how," said Mena.  

_Right._  Twiggy tuned out the clanging and yelling of the men’s fighting, and _concentrated._   She thought about which parts of a teleport circle were the parts that made it _work_.  This circle looked different from the ones she knew, but some things were similar . . .  “Mena!”  she yelled, pointing at one of the runes.  “THERE!”  Mena swung her flail at the rune.  The stone chipped.  The surface of the circle wavered, but stayed watery.  

“Arden!  Savina!  The feathers!”  Savina and Arden rushed to the wall, tearing feathers apart in an eerie reversal of their roles at the teleport center in Pol Henna.  Twiggy joined them, extinguishing candles and pulling at stones.

The surface of the wall began to move and ripple, as if something were pushing it out.  “Mena!  Again!”  Mena swung, and chipped another rune.

A long, sinewy tendril pushed through the surface.  It was massive, extending, waving, pushing forward . . .It was a nightmare, like nothing Twiggy had ever even dreamed of before . . .

Twiggy lunged forward and swung her robe at a small cluster of candles just out of reach.  They wobbled, flickered, and fell, extinguished.  

FOOSH.  

And suddenly, Twiggy was staring at a blank wall.  She stood, shaking, staring.

###

Tavi rolled against the wall, beating out the flames from his tunic.  He had done a lot of damage to the derro—blood was oozing from the creature’s arms and head where Tavi’s blade had smashed it against the wall—but Tavi had taken his share of hurt, and the derro just wasn’t going down.

Kormick was burned, too, and was none too happy about it.  “Why! Won’t! You! Die!” he yelled, shoving his foot against the derro’s chest and pounding it with his warhammers.  It slumped, finally, unconscious.  

As Tavi sheathed his sword, he wondered:  _Why haven’t the others been helping us?_

He turned to see them all staring at the center of the room.  There was nothing there.  They were staring into empty space.

“The sorcerer,” Twiggy explained.  “He’s gone invisible.”

They felt around for what seemed an eternity, stabbing at air, casting at nothing.  

Then suddenly the sorcerer appeared for an instant, cast a spell, and ran toward a hallway that extended out from the corner of the room.  Twiggy staggered, grabbing her head.

“Running only makes us angry, you know,” Mena called after him.  Her armor whispered behind her.  _…Angry, angry, angry._

There was a shuffling sound near the doorway.

“Or as we say in Dar Und,” Kormick announced, “it only means you’ll die tired.”  He fired his crossbow.  SHUNK.  The sorcerer appeared, slumped against the doorway, unconscious.

###

“Arden, see what’s down there,” Kormick said, pointing down the hallway.

_I don't understand why the mouse can't do it_, Arden thought, walking to the door.  _Oh well.  It's amazing what can start to seem comfortingly familiar, especially now that I've finally recovered a little –_

She peeked around the corner.

BAM!  A piece of crockery hit her on the head.


----------



## Rughat

Interesting - disarming the teleport circle looked like a skill challenge.   Was it?   I've been reading how Piratecat has been working those in his 4th Ed game.   How did you folks do this one in game?  The core skill challenge mechanics struck me as a little flat, but this sounded quite intense.  Did it work as well at the table?


----------



## ellinor

Thanks, Rughat -- yes, this was a skill challenge, and yes, it was very intense at the table.  Skill challenges have often been very intense for us, in fact.  I will let Fajitas speak more to the skill challenge mechanic he's been using (which varies slightly different from the core skill challenge mechanic in the DMG, and I believe our experiments in the area may have served as the source material for some of what Piratecat has been doing), but I will say that as a player I've found that skill challenges have integrated fantastically into the game, upping tension for various tasks, forcing us to work together, making us think about what we're good at and how we can make those things work to our advantage.  I credit Fajitas' creativity and quick thinking for picking good skill challenges and integrating them into the experience.  For example, this skill challenge was integrated into the combat that was going on simultaneously, so that for a round, a PC could choose between participating in the skill challenge or fighting, which upped the drama even more.  In addition to the challenges he plans, there are times when we'll try to do something offbeat, and he'll pull out the success/failure pebbles and say "sounds like a skill challenge to me!"  which is excellent.

And now back to our regularly scheduled dungeon...


----------



## ellinor

*6x03*

CRASH.

Kormick knew the sound of breaking crockery when he heard it.  _That_ was breaking crockery.  

Sure enough, as the slave backed away from the corner, there was a trickle of blood mixed with some unknown dark liquid dripping down her temple, mingling with the red of her hair.  Tavi was the next to peek around the corner, and—BAM—the same thing happened to him.

“I’m sick of this.”  Komick nearly spat the words as he strode into the room.  “Seriously—“ he threw down the unconscious derro sorcerer whom he had been dragging by the collar —“I’m sick of this.”

Kormick found himself in a small cave, supported by columns.  Tables crowded the room, covered with bottles, vials, boxes, jars . . . sorcery stuff, he supposed.  A large fireplace covered much of the opposite wall.  

A piece of crockery whizzed by his ear.  “Shtay back, derro shcum!”  It was a female voice, speaking dwarven, no less vitriolic for being slurred with inebriation.

“We are no derro,” Mena’s voice called back.  Mena’s armor snarled as bottles caromed off her shield and smashed against the floor.   Mena stepped beside Kormick and put her foot on the body of the still-unconscious derro sorcerer.  “But we have one here with us.  Do you want to kill it, or should I?”

Kormick blinked in surprise.  _That may be the single sexiest thing I have ever seen,_ he thought.

The crockery stopped.  “Whozzat?” asked the voice.

“I am Dame Filomena of the Defiers of the Wind.  We are here to help you.”

“Liar,” the dwaven woman replied, “Lying shcum.”

 “I speak the truth,” Mena said.  “I swear it.”

“Your oath meansh nothing,” the voice snarled. “No honor.”

“I swear,” Mena sighed, “on my ancestors.”  

"Yeah?  Who're they?" the voice demanded.

Mena paused, exasperation showing clearly on her face.  “I swear on the di Rossini family of Pol Henna.”

After a long moment, the voice replied.  “Fine,” it said, “throw me the derro shcum.”

Mena heaved the body over the pile of boxes, and Kormick heard more crashing as pieces of crockery smashed, mostly against the floor, some against the derro body.  Kormick envied the ease of the dwarf’s revenge, but imagined that she wasn’t doing much damage, not in her state.  “Are you all right back there—?“ he began.

“Zirkai!”  The voice of Sertani, the eldest wife of the late Rockminder, rang out from behind him as Rose and the dwarves entered the room.  “Zirkai, that’s enough!”  Sertani marched past Kormick and reached behind the boxes.

She emerged holding the collar of a dwarven woman—pregnant, although less so than Corani, and perhaps a few years older—unsteady with intoxication.  

“About time you found me,” slurred Zirkai.

###

_That’s twice,_ Mena thought, _twice in this gods-forsaken hellhole that I have been made to think of my family.  Twice I have had to invoke them in some twisted parody of “honor.”_  Her mind swam with anger.  Mena did not think about her family.  Ever. 

Mena looked down at the unconscious derro that Zirkai had been battering and listened, numbly, as the others toured the room, picking up useful items.  Two healing potions.  A large pouch of processed residuum.  Two alchemical recipes.  A potion of sacrifice.  A cloak of the chirurgeon.  A pair of bracers that could be used to emit flame.  A shield that would prevent the user from being pushed or pulled.

In the back of Mena’s hearing, the reunion—no, shouting match—between the dwarven women continued.  A story emerged:  Zirkai had been separated from the others and drugged to prevent her from doing injury to herself (or, equally likely, to others).  The last sister-wife had been carted off to points unknown, as had the eldest son and Mertal, the cook.  

At Mertal’s name, the still-suffering Ordren slumped in sympathetic pain.  “So we have no idea where they are”?  he implored.  

“What do you think I just shaid?”  Zirkai shot back. 

The dwarves’ voices were filled with rancor and recrimination. It was, Mena supposed, their version of family.    It only made things worse.

_No evil is ever defeated without a price,_ Mena thought.  Her stomach churned in anger as she thought back to the derro woman’s question.   _“Do you have children?”_ she had asked.  Visions of her own childhood pushed their way into her mind.  _No evil is ever defeated without a price, and the Twilight Lurker never lets anyone off cheaply._  She quietly lifted the body of the unconscious derro and quietly carried it into the hallway, closing the door behind her.  _I will not pay that price for nothing._

Mena slapped the derro’s face and ordered it awake with quiet malice.  “We need information,” she said, “and you need to tell it to us.  Now.”  The Defier’s armor purred, malevolently.

The derro trembled in fear as its eyes fluttered open, and it turned its head away.  

Mena put one hand on each side of the derro’s head and stared into its eyes.  “I have done things in this hellhole that I would prefer not to have done.” She continued to stare, letting her words sink in.  “Although it gives me no pleasure,” she continued, “I will not hesitate to do them again.”    

A pool of urine formed under the derro’s body.  

“I would like to know where the dwarven prisoners are,” Mena cooed.  “I would like to know without any fuss or trouble.”

The derro prisoner trembled in fear.  “Children in nursery.  Two in cages.  One in kitchen.  Two on lower levels.”

Mena nodded and continued, speaking as if to a young child.  “What is waiting for us on the lower levels?”

“Many.  More each day.  Lurx.  Our clan expand.”

_Our clan._  Blood swam before Mena’s eyes.  “And what is waiting for us in the kitchen?” she whispered.  “I like details.”

“Pets.”  The derro could not control its voice.  “Pets pets pets pets pets.”

“Do they have big teeth?” 

“Yes.”

“So do I.”  She slit its throat and turned away.

###

A healing potion and the effects of Savina’s new cloak had bolstered Arden’s strength considerably, but it hadn’t made the derro hellhole any more palatable. 

 “Two places left,” said Tavi, with surprisingly good cheer, “the kitchen and the lower levels.”  The gentleman glanced from Ordren’s pleading eyes to Sertani’s determined scowl. 

Neither sounded appetizing to Arden.  Both were further underground.  Both meant more time in this place.  But she had no choice.

“Back to the crevice,” announced Tavi.

As they climbed into the crevice, Arden felt her chest tighten with the terror that seemed to come with all small, dark spaces.  But one of the dwarven children looked up at her, reaching its hand out to touch her cloak with the tight grip of its young fingers.  Its face positively glowed with gratitude.  _There is some good I can do here,_ Arden thought.  _If I’m not killed first._ 

As they walked, the Justicar made conversation.  “So, how does this work?  How many wives can one dwarf have?”  

Signor Octavian, whose family apparently had considerable experience with dwarven trade, explained:  Dwarven women frequently ran the family’s business concerns, and a successful dwarven man would marry as many women as needed to run the business and raise the family. 

 “You could never run a crew that way,” Kormick chuckled.  “No man can serve two masters.”

Arden trudged behind Savina, letting the familiar rhythm of resignation move her feet as the rough-hewn passage descended into the bowels of the earth.  After a long time, Arden noticed a narrower branch heading upward and away.  She pointed it out.   The Signor’s hummingbird flitted about eagerly, darting in and out of the tunnel.  

“Acorn says the lower levels are ahead,” Twiggy reminded them, referring to her mouse’s earlier reconnaissance mission.  They continued walking.  Walking.

The passage opened into an irregular chamber, a small natural cave that had been hewn wider by hand.  Stalactites shimmered above, reflecting the green glow of electrical moss growing on the walls.  Three derro stared down another passage on the other side of the room, their backs to the party.

The Justicar stopped and signaled silently to Arden, who looked back at the group.  Savina, Mena, and Rose were busy keeping the dwarves together.  Arden understood – they’d have to handle this by themselves.  The Justicar looked at Tavi, who looked at Twiggy.  Twiggy cast.  A bolt of force streaked past the derro.  Arden released her sling, striking one in the head.  Before it could even yelp, Kormick’s crossbow bolt pierced through its neck.  Then Tavi charged in, slicing through the reminaing two.  They had barely made a sound.

“Like a well-oiled machine,” said Tavi, grinning.

The corridor continued, sloping further down.   There were sounds ahead:  derro voices; a far-off trickling sound; clanging.  The crack of a whip.

It was all too familiar to Arden.  

She braced herself and peeked into the room.  Before her was a very large natural cavern, lit by green moss on the ceiling and a few dim torches lining the walls.  There were large piles of . . . smashed furniture, perhaps, and heaps of dirt, rocks, and other scree along the back walls.  A number of derro were standing around, idly holding axes and whips.

But Arden wasn’t looking at them.  She was looking at several dwarves who were chained in the rear of the room, breaking rocks with anemic-looking picks.  They were mostly old, but one was young—virtually a child, Arden thought. 

It was all too familiar.  The cold rage that flared through all her veins was familiar, too. But one thing was new: _This time, I'm armed._

Looking closer, she saw that there was a human on the chain gang, a slight woman with sovereign features and a tattoo on her face, hauling a bucket of scree.  Arden watched the woman's eyeline and picked her moment, raising a finger at precisely the right instant to catch the woman's attention.  As soon as the woman saw her, Arden raised the finger all the way to her lips:  _Be quiet.  Be ready._ 

The woman palmed a couple of rocks and slid them into the folds of her torn clothing.  Arden could have cheered.

She backed away from the room and described what she'd seen to the gentlefolk. Tavi looked for himself.  

"A lot of derro in that room," he commented.  "I'd like to know if anything else is lurking down here first.  Let's keep going."  Mena nodded and Kormick prepared to lead the way on down the corridor.

"Signor," Arden said, and swallowed hard.  "With respect, will we come back and help these people?"  She was addressing a gentleperson directly.  She was not to address a gentleperson directly.  She was not to ask a gentleperson for anything.  She…

“Yes,” he replied, absentmindedly.

Arden’s voice shook as she spoke again.  “Signor Octavian, do I have your word that we will help these people?”

“Yes.”


----------



## ellinor

*Part the 7x01*

*In which we finally meet Spyscribe's character*



_Crack._  With every crack of the whip, Nyoko’s home felt farther and farther away.  This time, the whip fell on one of the dwarves she was chained to.  Next time it could be her.  She was not sure she had ever been so dirty or so tired in her life.  She ached to her bones.  

She picked up a bucket of rocks.  _Crack._  “Ow!”  Noyko was positive that she hadn’t done anything wrong.  There was no particular art to picking rocks and carrying buckets of scree from one pile to another.  But then again, there was no rhyme or reason to the derro that had kidnapped her.  Weeks ago, when they ambushed her on the road to Cauldron, she had assumed that they would ransom her back to the Adepts, but it quickly became apparent that they had no intention of doing so; they had not even asked where she was from.  And now, after days of trudging through tunnels at the end of a whip, they had her _breaking rocks_.  There were so many other things she was better at, if they had bothered to ask.  So many things she could do for them—play the flute; perform acrobatic dance; sing the honored histories…if she only had a bow and some arrows, she thought, then they’d find out what she was _really_ good at.   

Nyoko closed her eyes for a moment and imagined.  She imagined herself picking off these creatures two at a time with her bow.  She imagined herself emerging into the daylight.  She imagined returning to the compound of the Adepts back in Cauldron, being greeted by Lord Miyosho.  She knew it was a dream, but it was such a _good_ dream…

_No,_ Nyoko thought, _eyes open.  An Adept must see everything, remember everything, and be prepared to testify.   And even if I am stuck in this hellhole for the rest of my ever-shortening life, I am still an Adept._  She opened her eyes and surveyed the scene as she carried the bucket over to the large pile of scree.  Several derro, surrounded by broken furniture.  Foremen at the center, ordering their underlings around.  Underlings scurrying about.  The room was larger than any she had seen in this derro warren, and seemed to be carved from a natural cave, with a wide entryway—

There.  There was a woman peering in at the corner of the entryway.  A heathen, clearly:  red hair strayed from under her hood, making it obvious that she was not from the Sovereignty—and she looked as dusty and tired as Nyoko felt.  But there was a fire in her eyes that Nyoko had not seen in anyone for days.  She was free, Nyoko knew.  That meant Nyoko had help.  The woman signaled, a finger to her lips.  Nyoko palmed a few rocks from the bucket and hid them in the folds of her tunic.  Then the woman disappeared.  Another head appeared at the entryway, briefly—a man’s head, also heathen.  There was a sword at his side—a good sign, Nyoko thought.  Then he disappeared.

Then nothing.  Nyoko carried more rocks.  Time passed.  Five minutes.  Five more minutes.  Five more minutes.  As her hope had risen, it fell.  They were not coming back.  Were they helping these derro?

###

Kormick stalked on past the doorway.  There was not much back here.  On the left, an empty room, with some sort of discoloration on the floor.  On the right, a closed door—it seemed like the trickling sound was coming from behind it—and ahead, more hallway, heading into the darkness.  There were drag marks on the floor, but no derro, and no sounds of prisoners.  He returned to the entryway and reported.  

“Alright, then,” said Tavi, “time to go in.”  Corani and the other dwarves readied themselves for battle, and once again, Tavi instructed them to stay back by the doorway with Rose, out of immediate danger.  “We’ll let you know if we need you,” he added.  For once, Corani seemed almost mollified.

Tavi nodded to Arden.  Her jaw was set, her eyes slit.  She slid the door open, soundlessly.   

###

It all happened at once:  Two men barreled into the room, charging the derro foremen.  One struck with a sword, the other with warhammers.  The hooded woman Nyoko had seen before rushed in, slicing another derro with her shortsword.  A warrior woman whirled past, her sword flashing and her armor actually _shrieking_ in anger.  A genteel-looking girl chanted, creating a blinding shaft of light.  A bespectacled young woman shot energy from her hands.  They were all heathens, but they were strong, and they had caught Nyoko’s captors by surprise.  Derro were bleeding, stumbling.  

But it didn’t last.  The derro drew their weapons and surrounded the heathens.  Four derro, then eight, then more, charging, screaming.  It was chaos.

Then a roar came from the tunnel behind her, guttural, loud.

Nyoko knew that sound.  It was Lurx.  He was the head foreman, technically, but much more than that.  He was large for a derro—almost the height of a human—and brutal.  In her days in the tunnels, she had seen him order a slave killed for nothing more than tripping over her own shackles, and he had crushed one of his own men with his bare hands.  _Kettenek help these heathens,_ Nyoko thought, _they don’t know what they’ve gotten themselves into._

Nyoko felt the dust move and smelled Lurx’s odor as he pounded past her and ran into the room.  In battle, he seemed even more imposing than he had at the head of the chain gang.  He was a good deal bigger than Nyoko, and his chest was bare, revealing a torso and arms built as if from bricks.  When he reached the side of the room, he gave a great roar.

All the other derro froze.

Then they began to chant, beating their chests.  Lurx! Lurx! Lurx! Lurx! Lurx! 

He strode among them to the center of the room, glaring imperiously.  Then he beat his fists against his chest and pointed at the heathens.  The warrior woman’s armor let out a bloodcurdling yell.  

The chanting continued.  Lurx! Lurx! Lurx!

It was clear that the derro were demanding some sort of single combat, and the heathens, after some discussion among themselves about dwarven traditions, seemed to understand and—more surprisingly—to accept.  The newcomers gathered around each other.  The two men made hand signals at each other—the one with a sword held out his fist, and the one with the warhammers held his hand flat like a blade, parallel with the floor.  

Warhammers said, “Paper covers rock.  I’ll mop up.”

Sword said, “Oh.  That’s how I’d want it, anyway.”

The heathens formed a circle around Sword.  The girl prayed—how odd for battle that she prayed to the godling Alirria!  Glasses chanted a spell of defense.  Armor talked quite forcefully about the young man’s extensive training.  Prompted by Armor, Hood gave some advice on dodging attacks.  Then Warhammers clapped him on the back.

Sword stepped forward into what had become a large empty space in the center of the room, ringed by derro.  His friends spread out around the room among the derro, uncertain looks on their faces, hands on their weapons.

The crowd backed away from the two fighters and, for a moment, all was quiet as the two began to circle each other.  Lurx growled softly.  Sword shifted his weight from foot to foot, his weapon at the ready.  

Warhammers said, “I’m gonna miss that guy.”


----------



## jonrog1

I would like to note that Thatch and I, instinctively, broke into Rock-Paper-Scissors _without even looking at each other_ at that moment at the table.  In 20 years of writing comedy, I've never seen a more perfect bit of timing.


----------



## ellinor

jonrog1 said:


> In 20 years of writing comedy, I've never seen a more perfect bit of timing.




That's saying something.  

And I'd like to point out what I found even funnier about it:  It's not just that Tavi and Kormick broke right into rock-paper-scissors...it's that there was nothing to rock-paper-scissors about.  They wanted the *same outcome.*  

Or at least that's what Tavi thought at the time.


----------



## spyscribe

ellinor said:


> And I'd like to point out what I found even funnier about it:  It's not just that Tavi and Kormick broke right into rock-paper-scissors...it's that there was nothing to rock-paper-scissors about.  They wanted the *same outcome.*




Nyoko would like to point out that heathens are _so_ weird.  (But she's too polite to say anything.)


----------



## ellinor

*7x02*

Tavi leapt into battle with Lurx, dodging and weaving.  Lurx’s powerful derro body was compact and firm, and his vulnerabilities weren’t immediately apparent.  But, as Mena was fond of saying, Tavi had trained for this.  And if he’d learned anything in this underground labyrinth, it was that he was damn good at what he’d trained for.  

Lurx swung his huge fist at Tavi’s shoulder.  Tavi parried and dodged.  _But maybe that’s an opening._  He hurled his sword at Lurx’s exposed side.  The sword glanced off Lurx, ineffectual, but kept spinning and sliced one of the smaller derro behind the behemoth before returning to Tavi’s hand.  Lurx sneered and then grinned at Tavi’s failure to connect.

_Not what I wanted to do,_ Tavi thought, _but now we’ve learned something important.  As long as I’m going for the big guy, I won’t violate the rules of single combat if I hurt someone else._  He unleashed his blade’s _flame cyclone_—burning Lurx a little, and turning the derro behind him into a screaming, flaming cinder.  Phoebe clearly thought that was a good idea.  Now we’re talking! 

Phoebe’s encouraging voice joined a chorus of aid from his compatriots.  Some of it was good advice, and some of it was just good for distracting Lurx, but Tavi was glad for all of it, because it kept Lurx guessing his next move.  “Again!”  “Don’t let him bring his arm down!”  “Go for the hamstring!”  “Kneecaps! Kneecaps!”

_DM’s Note: So, this bit of gameplay was a little experiment.  How long could I sustain single combat between one PC and a Solo monster?  Yes.  That’s right.  Lurx is a Solo monster, who Tavi is fighting by himself.

Sort of.

See, in order to give the rest of the PCs something to do, I created a series of skill-challenge like actions that they could take.  By using their skills to help Tavi, other players were able to give him bonuses to hit, to damage, or other various powers.  I’ll post the complete rules in a separate post.  But for now, it’s enough to know that those shouts of encouragement were more than just shouts of encouragement: they were combat bonuses.

Which were pretty sorely needed._

Among the chaos of derro and human voices, there was one new one, a woman’s:  “He favors his right side!”  Whoever that was, Tavi noticed, she knew what she was talking about.  Tavi sent Phoebe flying around Lurx’s right side and spun around Lurx’s back from the left.  Green flames burst from his blade and WHAM he hit Lurx smack in the face.  

“Do that again!”  yelled Savina.

###

Arden crept behind the circle of derro.  _Why the freepeople want to honor the rules of savages_, she thought, _I have no idea.  But at least no one’s looking at me – which is just the chance I need._ 

The derro jeered and screamed, their backs to her as she slid along the wall.  She stole a glimpse past them: Signor Octavian and Lurx were a blur of fists and fire, as a blast of light from Signor Octavian’s hand blinded Lurx, leaving the giant derro open to attack from his flaming sword.  Lurx roared in anger and flailed wildly as Tavi ducked and thrust again.  

Arden turned away from the fight when she reached the chained slaves. The Sovereign woman was in front.  Several dwarves were chained behind her, farther along an incomplete passage leading away from the back of the room.

Silently, Arden knelt down and, for the first time on this journey, pulled a small but well-crafted set of lockpicks from their hiding place beneath her belt.  With the ease and skill of one who speaks to locks as to a long and intimately studied enemy, she released the Sovereign woman from her fetters.  _What would Alleged say if he knew I had these particular tools . . ._ 

The Sovereign woman gave a slight bow of greeting.  “I am in your debt,” she said, below the din of the derro crowd.  “I am Nyoko. ”

“I am Arden.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Arden.”

Arden smiled.  _Wonder if she’d feel that way if she knew what I was._ Arden savored the feeling of being equals, two comrades on the battlefield.  “Nyoko, can you fight?”

Nyoko nodded with the look of one who not only could fight, but wanted to.  Arden was encouraged.  “Can they?”  Arden pointed to the dwarves in the passageway.

“Four are very frail,” replied Nyoko, “and frailer every day.  And one is very young.  But he has no shortage of energy.”

The cacophony of battle raged in the background.  Over it all, Arden could hear Mena’s voice, tinged, Arden thought, with real concern:  “Get up off your ass and hit him!”

Arden made her way down the narrow passageway toward the dwarves.  They cringed away from her, and she winced: _I’ve been there._ The four older ones were as frail, and the young one as green and eager, as Nyoko had said.  If they fled out of this passageway and into the battle area, they would be slaughtered.  But they must be freed.  

Arden approached them, and asked Nyoko to translate.  “I can unlock you.  You will want to run.  You must not run.  Will you stay here?”

Each dwarf nodded, mutely, in response.

###

“Hit him again!”  Savina found herself screaming something that seemed very unlike herself.  But as she watched a burst of flame erupt from Tavi’s hand, she wanted nothing more than to see him victorious.  He looked strong and brave out there, with dirt shading his brow, sweat glistening in his hair, and fierce concentration clouding his face.  “Again!”  A flurry of swordwork sliced Lurx’s arm and back, but they barely bled.  

Lurx swung his enormous fists with the force—and, fortunately, the accuracy—of a lumbering giant.  Tavi dodged, backing away at just the right moments and feinting with his sword.  Lurx bellowed and blustered as he reached down in a failed attempt to grab Tavi in his powerful arms.  With every miss, Lurx became more and more angry.  One of his blows connected with a discarded bookcase, which splintered to bits.  Savina imagined if that bookcase had been Tavi’s ribs, and shuddered, and prayed.

### 

Arden popped open the first three locks as if they had been left undone.  It was like it had all been leading to this; she just tuned out the noise and did it.  Three dwarven men, one elderly and two middle aged, stood in disbelief, still apprehensive of their new liberty.  Next was an elderly dwarf.  Behind him, the boy was jumping up and down as best he could, his chains rattling, as he fired questions at her in dwarven.  Arden tried to communicate to him with her eyes:  _be patient.  Soon._

The fourth lock wasn’t so easy.  She fumbled a bit as the yelling and screaming leaked into her mind, and memories of harder locks leaked in with memories of even harder times.  Eventually this one opened too, and she looked up to see the face of the dwarf she had freed.  His face was deeply lined, his beard shaved to shame him.  

Arden stood up and gave him the same steady look she had given the others, to keep him from running.  Like them, he did not move, only shook and looked down in disbelief, and raised his arm slowly as if to prove it was truly disconnected from its chains.  Arden pointed to herself.  “Arden,” she said.  

The dwarf blinked.  

“Arden,” she repeated, pointing again at herself.

“Romek,” the dwarf replied, his eyes wide.  Then he knelt at her feet.  

His fear and subservience were too familiar, too hurtful.  It shocked her worse than if he'd pulled a blade and gutted her.  Inside herself, she was screaming—_Don’t do that!_—but when she opened her mouth, she was speechless.  Even if she had known dwarven, she would be helpless to know what to say.  

###

“You’re wearing him down!”  Kormick yelled.

Encouragement had never been Kormick’s strong suit, but he figured “You’ve been hammering away at this guy for ages and he’s barely even bruised and his increasingly belligerent compatriots outnumber us three to one” wasn’t really going to do much for morale.  “You’re wearing him down” seemed like a better choice.

A burst of flame from Tavi’s sword singed Lurx’s hair and Tavi whirled around to avoid another blow from the behemoth, backing into a derro foreman in the process.  Tavi had done a good job of avoiding Lurx’s powerful blows, but bruises were beginning to rise where he’d been buffeted by the crowd, and he was flagging.  Tavi stumbled, giving Lurx a chance to move on to the high ground provided by a pile of scree.  

As Tavi swung, Lurx suddenly shifted left, grabbing Tavi’s arm and twisting him around in a bone crushing bear hug.  With a great roar, Lurx lifted Tavi up above his head and _hurled_ him across the room, directly toward Kormick.  Tavi landed at Kormick’s feet and did not move.

_DM’s Note: Don’t let the Solo Monster hit you with a crit. While using an action point.  And a minor action follow up.  Don’t do that at all._ 

The derro crowd went crazy, screaming, banging their swords against their armor and cheering.  

_Get up, kid,_ thought Kormick.  _You know you want to._

Lurx stood over him with a look that said “You want some more?”  

_He’s gonna get up,_ thought Kormick.

Kormick could hear Savina praying, and could see the color rise in Tavi’s cheeks.

“Off your ass, NOW!”  yelled Mena.  

Tavi stumbled to his feet.   

“Go get ’em,” said Kormick, giving Tavi a friendly push.  

Tavi took a couple of swings at Lurx, moving more like a drunk trying to impress his friends than the expert Kormick knew him to be.  The fall had taken its toll.  

Tavi tried to head for the high ground, but Lurx’s fists were in the way.  Kormick winced as two punishing blows folded Tavi like a rag doll.  Then Lurx picked Tavi up again and threw him again, this time into the center of the circle.  

Tavi was unconscious.

The derro cheered wildly, banging their swords against their armor, banging their fists against their chests.  Lurx! Lurx! Lurx! Lurx!

“TAVI!”  Savina’s scream rang out across the room.


----------



## Fajitas

The following are the solo-combat rules we used during the Lurx fight.  DCs are tied to the party's level at the time (Level 2)



> *Solo Combat*
> One player fights Lurx in single combat.  As a standard action, other players may shout encouragement by making various skill checks.
> 
> All checks receive a bonus equal to the number of Healing Surges the player involved in the combat has remaining.
> 
> All checks receive a cumulative -1 modifier for each subsequent time an individual player uses the same skill. EACH PLAYER MUST TRACK THEIR OWN PENALTIES.
> 
> *Available skills:*
> 
> Endurance (DC 15): 3 successes in a round earns the fighter an extra healing surge
> 
> Acrobatics (DC 15): 1 success lets the fighter shift 1 square as a Minor Action (limit 1/round)
> 
> Insight (DC 15): 1 success gives the fighter a +1 bonus to 1 defense for the next round (limit 1/round)
> 
> Perception (DC 15): 1 success gives the fighter a +1 bonus to attacks for the next round (limit 1/round)
> 
> Intimidate, Heal (DC 15): 3 successes gives the fighter an extra +1d6 damage to one attack the next round
> 
> Arcana, Athletics, Religion, Stealth (DC 15): 1 success allows the fighter to spoof one of your powers as an extra Standard action, as if they had spent an Action Point (limit 1/round).
> 
> The fighter rolls using your stats with that power.  This counts as your power’s use for the encounter.  You roll Arcana for Arcane powers, Religion for Divine powers, and Athletics or Stealth (player’s choice) for Martial powers.
> 
> Note: The fighter’s background must allow them to use the power source in question.  For example, Mena, who has no arcane abilities, would not be able to spoof an arcane power.  Similarly, Twiggy, who has no martial prowess, would not be able to spoof a martial power.  However, Jan, though technically a martial character, has established arcane abilities—he would be able to use martial or arcane powers (possibly divine powers with a negative modifier).
> 
> *Additional Actions:*
> 
> Push (Athletics)- if either combatant is adjacent to you at the end of their turn, you may attempt to push them 1 square.  Make an Athletics check: DC 10 pushes 1 square, DC 15 pushes 2 squares.  Adjacent players may Aid Another on this check; nearby players may shift 1 square if it will make them adjacent. Remember, forced movement does not provoke opportunity attacks.
> 
> Powers- at any time, you may use any of your powers as normal.  Remember, doing damage to one of the combatants or other observers is forbidden by the rules of combat (combatants are allowed to do indirect damage to observers, however).


----------



## StevenAC

ellinor said:


> _DM’s Note: Don’t let the Solo Monster hit you with a crit. While using an action point.  And a minor action follow up.  Don’t do that at all._



Words for us all to live by, there... 

The next two chapters (5 and 6) of the Collected _A Rose in the Wind_ Story Hour are now available here -- enjoy!


----------



## ellinor

*7x03*

“TAVI!”  It was all Savina could do to stop herself from running into the middle of the circle to the fighter’s side.  But instead, she prayed.  As she prayed, she could feel Alirria’s warmth course through her.  Tavi’s eyes blinked open and, slowly, he began to push himself up.  

Lurx puffed his chest and roared.  The derro crowd cheered, beating their swords against their armor.  In the din, Savina could hear their allies.  Twiggy was chanting a spell.  Mena was barking what Savina supposed was encouragement, her armor hissing and sputtering and roaring with intimidating fury.  Zirkai was berating Tavi for being slow to rise.  Where was Arden?

As soon as Tavi was on his feet, his sword ignited.  A burst of flame caught Lurx and the derro behind him.  But Lurx still had the high ground.

Kormick’s voice boomed from beside Savina.  “He’s above you!  Now’s the time for the femoral artery!”  

“Slice his balls off!”  screamed a voice from across the room.  It came from a Sovereign woman.  Savina hadn’t noticed her before.  Where had she come from?

“Who is that enchanting creature?”  Kormick quipped.

Savina didn’t have time to marvel at Kormick’s gallows humor—or, apparently, his romantic preferences.  Although Alirria had given Tavi renewed strength, Lurx was giving him quite a beating.  

From his place atop the pile of scree, Lurx had pushed Tavi into a small crowd of derro.  Tavi’s hummingbird flew out of the crowd, confusing Lurx for a moment, and Lurx smashed one of the derro, nearly killing his own ally.  It gave Tavi the chance get in one more good strike before Lurx shoved him to the ground with a massive, crunching punch.  It hurt to hear.

Tavi was unconscious, again.

###

The last set of shackles was the dwarven boy’s.  “Thurran?”  Arden asked.  A dusty head bobbed up and down in assent.  He tugged at his restraints, clearly itching to pull free.  

Arden looked around for help in communicating with the boy.  Nyoko, who had translated before, was too far away and too close to the fighting to be any help.  Her Sovereign voice rang out as loud as anyone’s:  “Now you’ve got him!”  “Hit him harder!”  “Slice him good!”  

Arden tried her best to express to Thurran that he should stay here, in the passage, where it was safe, but she knew it was a losing proposition.  Arden positioned herself in the tunnel between Thurran and the fighting, fixed Thurran with a stern look, and popped open the shackles.  He pushed forward toward her, then against her . . . but did not pass her.  As long as she was blocking the way, he would not force himself through.  They would both have to watch the battle from here.

###

Zirkai was really starting to piss Mena off.  

It would be glib to say that berating Tavi was Mena’s job, but by the Cursed Bitch, it certainly wasn’t Zirkai’s.  Yet there was Zirkai, harping from the sidelines as if she could do it better. 

“Let me at ’im!”  Zirkai slurred.  “I’ll show you some real fight!”

Then Tavi went down, again.  He lay just a few feet from Mena.  Just out of reach. 

Mena gripped her sword in frustration and anger.  The derro were in near-riot conditions.  Their little band seemed almost out of options.  She knew it was not yet the right time, tactically, to break out of single combat… _but is it the only time?_  Her body tensed as she prepared to rush in. 

Mena was torn from her quandary by the piercing voice of Zirkai.  “Lemme help!” she screamed, from the other side of the circle.  Zirkai pushed and shoved at Savina.  “Lemme go!  Now!”  Zirkai kept yelling, pushing.   Savina, stunned, let her pass.  Zirkai began jostling her way around the circle toward Mena.

“Lemme through!  I can help!”  Zirkai sounded almost lucid now, as she forced herself through a knot of derro.  By the time she reached Twiggy, she had some momentum.  Twiggy added to it, with a shove on the back.  Kormick pushed even harder.  By the time she reached Mena, Zirkai was almost airborne.  

Mena grabbed Zirkai, pulled her forward, and planted her in front of Tavi.  

Zirkai leaned down and yelled, inches from Tavi’s ear. “GET UP!  GET UP YOU LAZY BASTARD!” 

And something amazing happened:  Tavi got up.

And he got up strong.  This time, Tavi’s sword swung true, and hit twice, once on each of Lurx’s enormous arms.  Now Lurx was starting to bleed, and finally, _finally,_ beginning to show some small signs of slowing down.  

Zirkai kept yelling.  “Oath breakers!  Scum!”

That didn’t help.  Lurx had Tavi in his grasp again, and threw him again—this time, Tavi landed directly _on top_ of Mena and they rolled in a tangled heap.  It made Mena hurt, and it wasn’t a good idea to make Mena hurt.

“You okay?”  She asked, as she helped Tavi up.

Tavi swallowed hard and looked over to the corner where Rose stood in front of the crowd of dwarves.  “Still going,” he replied.

Mena steeled Tavi with a look of cool preparation.  “Remember your training,” she urged.  “Use your environment.  All of it.”  Tavi looked around, nodded in understanding, and without another word, pushed off against Mena and barreled across the ring, hurling himself into Lurx so hard that it pushed Lurx against the electrical moss on the wall.  Then he stepped back and swung his sword, and its green flame married with the green electricity of the moss and Lurx—finally—shook with what looked like pain.

When Mena recovered from the shove, she turned to Zirkai, who was still screaming her head off.  

“You will never call that boy lazy again,” she said, calmly.  

“OATHBREAKERS! HOMEWRECKERS!”

“Shut.  Up.”  Mena said, and slapped Zirkai across the face.

For the first time, Zirkai shut up.

###

Arden thought it would feel better, unlocking the dwarves.  And it did, mostly.  She’d _chosen_ to free the slaves.  Whatever happened next, she’d done that.  Thurran was vibrating with excitement behind her, and she understood his feeling.  She shared it:  She'd claimed a moment of freedom, which, as always, left her feeling strong and craving more—

—but she would need to remember to address the boy as Master Thurran now.  And she would need to learn Nyoko's title and use it scrupulously.  She touched the bracelet on her own wrist, the one shackle she couldn't remove.  They were free, but she wasn't.  So it didn't simply feel better, unlocking the dwarves.  It also felt wrong. 

She heard Nyoko’s voice, across the room, addressing Signor Octavian:  “Keep pushing!” She felt Thurran's small hands against her back as he fought to contain himself.    _They did this to Thurran, to the others,_ she thought. _They forced us to wade through blood to stop them.  And we're following *their* rules of combat?_  It was wrong.  

Everything about this was wrong.  And it wasn’t even over.

Arden peeked through a space between the derro, and what she saw put the finishing touch on her anger.  Signor Octavian—bruised and battered in a way Arden had almost never seen in a freeperson—sliced at Lurx’s side as Lurx raised his arm.  Lurx was hurt, but nothing like the young Signor.  Arden knew death’s door intimately, and this well-intentioned kid had stood under its lintel for too long already.  Lurx let out a bellowing roar, swung his powerful fist, and punched.  The Signor staggered back.  Unconscious.  Again.  

That was it.  This needed to be over, _now._  Arden pulled the shortsword from her belt and stabbed the nearest derro in the back.  It tumbled forward into the circle, dead.

###

There was a brief moment of silence—ever so brief—as the derro in the circle realized what had happened.  

Then all hell broke loose.  Derro stopped pounding their armor and began stabbing at the nearest heathen. Hood was the first to get hit—she had started it, Nyoko supposed—and Armor, Glasses, and the Alirrian girl weren’t far behind.  The derro fought with the manner of those afraid of their attackers, and they were right to be:  Sword had gotten up three times from unconsciousness, and had made Lurx bleed.  Now they would see what his friends could do.  Armor’s sword sliced one of the foremen; Glasses chanted a spell; the Alirrian girl prayed.  Two derro shook and collapsed.

Suddenly, the young dwarf—Thurran—came hurtling out of the passageway, screaming and letting loose a barrage of rocks that seemed larger than himself.  Nyoko witnessed it, although it seemed unbelievable:  the rocks hit four derro in the heads with such force that they fell, bleeding, to the ground.  They weren’t so outnumbered anymore . . . and less outnumbered by the minute, as two more fell, batting at some imaginary foe in the air.

_DM’S Note: That would be the use of Thurran’s Daily Power, by the way…”_

Warhammers stood in front of Lurx, held his hammers in front of himself, and said a word:  “Elizabet!”  Raw energy crackled from between the hammers, shooting out toward Lurx and then on toward the green moss.  Lurx trembled from the energy of the blast and the moss at once, but Warhammers was not done—in a single motion, he hooked his hammers back on his belt, pulled out two crossbows, took a step back, and fired two bolts straight into Lurx’s chest.  Lurx staggered back, batting at the crossbow bolts, finally showing weakness.  

_There’s my opening._  Nyoko grabbed a rock in one hand and a shortsword from one of the fallen derro, and whirled into the center of the circle.  _I don’t know you, but sorry,_ she thought, as she stepped on to Sword’s unconscious body and pushed off, propelling herself into the air and slicing at Lurx’s neck.  The sword connected with a satisfying _swish_.

“We really need to win this fight,” she said, as she landed next to Warhammers.  _And is that a holy symbol under his robe?_ she thought.

“Really?”  he replied, “I was thinking we could just call it a tie and move on.”  He let loose another crossbow bolt.  It hit.

“I am tired of teaching you your place!”  Lurx bellowed at Nyoko, reaching down toward her.  She somersaulted from his reach, but he came after her again, grabbing, crushing.  Suddenly, she was up in the air, then hitting the wall . . . pain screamed from her joints and she could feel the warmth of blood against her temple.  

Armor planted her feet and her armor hissed at Lurx.  “_You’re_ tired?  Really?”  She lifted her sword above her head and brought it down across the body of the last remaining foreman.  Blood poured from his chest as he fell.

Lurx staggered back to the center of the room, where the Alirrian girl was kneeling over Sword.  “You!”  he roared.  Sword’s eyes fluttered open.  Lurx reared back to swing . . . and the Alirrian girl brandished her holy symbol.  “Alirria!”  She yelled.  “Lend us your might!”  

_Alirria?  Might?  What a strange turn of phrase,_ Nyoko  thought—but as the girl yelled, the cave itself seemed to tremble in response and ray of light burst from the Alirrian holy symbol, engulfing Lurx in blinding light and knocking him backward.  With a great cry of anguish, Lurx fell to the floor, finally, still.

Warhammers approached the body and poked it with his toe.  Then he shot the dead body with a crossbow bolt.  

“I like how you think, Honored Justicar,” said Nyoko.


----------



## babomb

ellinor said:


> “Slice his balls off!”  screamed a voice from across the room.  It came from a Sovereign woman.  Savina hadn’t noticed her before.  Where had she come from?
> 
> “Who is that enchanting creature?”  Kormick quipped.
> 
> ...
> 
> Warhammers approached the body and poked it with his toe.  Then he shot the dead body with a crossbow bolt.
> 
> “I like how you think, Honored Justicar,” said Nyoko.




Kormick and Nyoko: a match made in heaven?


----------



## spyscribe

babomb said:


> Kormick and Nyoko: a match made in heaven?




He definitely has his good points, for a heathen, but Nyoko knows that she can never compete with Mena in the realm of Kormick's affections.


----------



## Ilex

*7x04*

Savina cradled Tavi's head in her lap and looked down at his closed eyes.  She stroked his cheek, allowing what healing energy she had left to spill from her fingertips into him.  His skin beneath her hand was rough, streaked with sweat and blood, and she thought he had never looked more handsome as he rested there in her lap …

His eyes opened, hazy at first, and then they locked onto hers.  She smiled.  

"You won," she told him.

He smiled back, a little bemused.  "I – I don't remember that part."

"You were wonderful," she said.

They looked at each other.  Smiling.

Then Tavi shifted his gaze and sat up.  "Where's Rose?" he asked.

"I'm here," said Rose, who had entered the room with the rest of the dwarves.  Tavi jumped up and hurried over to her.  Savina stood as well, dusting off the skirts of her robes.  She tried to admire Tavi's dutiful attention to his sister.  But she missed him – the feeling of his cheek beneath her hand – even though he was just across the room.  

Nearby, the young Sovereign woman was staring down at Lurx's body with a dispassionate expression, as if memorizing the sight of his corpse.  

"It's – it's very nice to meet you," ventured Savina.

"We have not met," the woman corrected her, not unkindly.  "I am Nyoko, an Adept of our Lord Kettenek."

_I've read about Adepts_, recalled Savina. _Was it in *True Travels and Adventures of Captain Ambitioso di Cambio?*  After he falls in love with the Sovereign noblewoman, Adepts sing for them at dinner … I think they're like bards …_ 

She smiled politely at the Sovereign woman.  "I'm Savina di Infusino, one of the Daughters of the Givers of Life."  

"I am honored to meet you, Savina-san."  Nyoko bowed.

Tavi led Rose over.  "Signor Octavian di Raprezzi, at your service," he said, at his most formal.  Nyoko introduced herself and bowed.  The others introduced themselves in turn, each receiving a bow from Nyoko.  

"What is your preferred manner of address?" asked Twiggy, with her typical blend of decorum and inquisitiveness.  

Nyoko looked startled at first, as if forgetting that such a thing wasn't self-evident to them.  "Honored Adept would be appropriate," she said.  It was impossible to mistake the lofty tone that came into her voice – this woman, though she was only a few years older than Savina, was accustomed to receiving respect.  Savina herself, raised from birth amid the careful hierarchies of Pol Henna, tentatively slotted Nyoko into the party's rank beneath herself and the other nobles, but above Kormick and Mena:  like a commoner who'd reached high authority in one of the Temples.

 ". . . but since we've already shed blood together," Nyoko continued, her tone immediately relaxing, "that seems a bit formal."  

There was a stir at the back of the room.  A little dwarven boy – Thurran – was shepherding four emaciated dwarves out of the tunnel the derro had forced them to dig.  Thurran urged the men along, chattering encouragements. Arden had been loitering near the tunnel entrance and smiled encouragingly at them, too, but when they ducked their heads and wouldn't meet her gaze, her smile faded.  She shook her head, turned, and walked away.

"Thurran!" Sertani cried out, glimpsing her son.  She took two steps as if she was going to run to the boy, but then checked herself.  Instead, she stood, waiting, as Thurran bounced over to her:  "Mother!  Did you see that?  Did you see what I did?  I helped save everybody!"

Sertani knelt down to his level.  "Come here, son," she said.  As Thurran stepped close, she put one hand on his shoulder and, with the other, handed him a small stone pendant:  a family emblem that she must have taken from her husband's body.  Thurran fell silent.  He looked at her and she nodded.  

"You are Lord Rockminder now," she whispered.  Thurran's lip trembled, but he made no sound.

After a moment, Mena spoke.  "You have already done great credit to your father's memory, Thurran.  You joined in a battle that you could have avoided, and that is an honorable thing."

Thurran put the pendant around his neck and drew himself up straight.  "Thank you, ma'am," he said to Mena.  He was being brave, but he clearly didn't know what to do next.  Savina wanted to gather the boy in her arms and hug him, but she knew that the dwarves – Thurran included – would find that insulting:  Thurran was the head of his household, and heads of households did not get compassionate hugs from near-strangers.  

"We should find Jalissi and Mirtal and leave this place," said Sertani.

"Yes," said Thurran.  "Let's do that."

"Wise boy," said Mena.

"But first," said Kormick, "let me suggest that we take a little time for looting and pillaging.  I've already found two bags of gold pieces and a potion of some kind." He tossed two bags at Savina.  Startled, she caught one; the other fell at her feet with a jangle of coins.  _He really is a *very* strange Justicar_, she thought, as Kormick tossed a stoppered bottle to Twiggy.

After a quick search of the room, they found themselves in possession of eight hundred gold pieces, a power jewel, and the potion, which Twiggy identified as a life-giving elixir.  

"And now," said Mena, "Let us adopt the wisdom of Thurran and leave this place."

"I'll make sure things are still quiet out in the hall," volunteered Kormick.  He readied a warhammer and walked out of the room.

As they waited for him to return, Twiggy turned to Nyoko.  "If I may ask, how did you end up here?"

### 

Kormick walked down the hall toward the closed door he'd seen earlier, the one with the faint sound of water coming from behind it.  He was in no hurry, and this time, he noticed that the stonework of the tunnel grew abruptly smoother near the closed door:  evidence that true craftspeople, not the derro or their slaves, had carved this tunnel.  _Interesting._  As he drew close to the shut door, Kormick heard the water again, but now there was something else.  A scuffling and stomping.  A faint rattle of chains.  Grunts.  

Kormick put his hand on the door handle and turned it very, very gently.  He put one eye to the narrow opening he'd made.

He saw a square room filled with finely carved stone benches facing a wall bearing an ornate symbol.  Above the symbol, a fountain of water burbled out of the wall.  The symbol itself was hard to make out, exactly, because it was obscured by the bruised, terrified dwarven woman who was chained to it.  It was also obscured by the crowd of undead humans shuffling toward her and reaching for her.  

_Ah, yes_, Kormick thought.  _Zombies.  Just what this day of endless delights was missing._ 

As he shifted position to count the creatures, the warhammer on his left side thumped against the doorframe.  Almost as one, the zombies' dull-eyed heads cranked around to focus on him.

_Silly me.  Usually it's the slave's job to give away our position._ 

Kormick hollered back down the hall:  "Hey, kids!  Zombies!"  

Then he shoved the door wide open and strode in.  Jumping onto one of the chapel's pews, he raised his warhammers, his white Justicar's robes furling back as magical energy crackled between the weapons' heads.  "Nothing personal," he told them, "but you're out past curfew."  

He released the energy, which shot out and struck two of them.  As they staggered, two more zombies shambled forward, attempting to flank Kormick, but he swung the hammers in dizzying arcs and struck both of them also.  His new magical bracers pumped strength into his arms and he pounded the closest creature once more for good measure.  

There was an instant's pause as the undead reeled.  Then they began to surround him.  

He craned his neck to shout down the hall again:  "Um, _zombies!_"


----------



## Ilex

*8x01*

The Sovereign woman's tale of the derro's attack upon her caravan was cut short by Kormick's distant shout:  "Hey, kids!  Zombies!"  

_Zap, thump._

_Thunk, clang, thwack._ 

"*Zombies!*"

Savina was startled to see Arden – who had spent Nyoko's recitation sitting hunched on a pile of scree and tossing gravel shards sulkily against the wall – leap up and run out of the room, clutching her sling and not looking back.  Savina had been too distracted by Tavi's peril to pay much attention when Arden first freed the prisoners on her own initiative and then stabbed a derro in the back, breaking the honor code in the Lurx fight, but now in a flash she put those actions together with the scowl on her slave's face and felt a twinge of trepidation: _I certainly hope Arden isn't forgetting her place._ 

Nyoko raced out of the room on Arden's heels and Twiggy was right behind her, running faster than Savina had ever seen her move.

Savina was following until a drama among the dwarves caught her eye:  Thurran had grabbed a short sword from a derro corpse.  With that in one hand and a rock-pick in the other, the boy was staring down Sertani.  "We have to do something!" he declared.  Sertani opened her mouth to object – but thought better of it.  She nodded once.  With that, Thurran raced out of the room, too.  

Savina shared a glance of concern with Tavi, Mena, and Rose.  They all ran after Thurran. 

### 

_They have better things to do than whack *zombies*?_  Kormick couldn't hold off the creatures by himself—they were surrounding him, closing in—and then Arden darted into the room.  With one fierce, dancer-like gesture, she let fly a rock from her sling.  The zombie that was about to strike Kormick staggered backward:  Arden's rock had shot right through its skull.  The rock had left a hole.  Torchlight was visible through the hole.  But the zombie, being a zombie, didn't die:  it wrenched itself into motion, its arms now clawing toward the slave.  Another followed.  

As Arden drew her sword, Nyoko shot into the room and dodged past the creatures menacing Arden and Kormick toward a taller zombie standing in the back.  

"Welcome to the zombie party!" Kormick called as she wove her way past him, and she managed a perfectly decorous bow of her head:  "Thank you, Honored Justicar."  She flung a rock at the tall zombie, striking it in the chest.  It wobbled briefly but then regained its balance and glared at the three of them.

"Leave our halls!" it growled.

It must have been disappointed to discover that instead of leaving, another of their allies had already _arrived_:  Twiggy had burst through the doorway at a dead sprint, skidded to a stop, and unleashed a wave of force from an orb in her hand.  The magical force slammed into one of the zombies that Kormick had struck initially, and the creature fell to the ground, dead.  For real this time.

Vastly relieved that Twiggy had proven they could be killed, Kormick prepared to swing his hammers at another of the creatures – but was stopped short by the highest-pitched war cry he'd ever heard.  

Seven-year-old Thurran charged into the room, yelling at the top of his lungs, and stabbed a zombie in the leg with a rock-pick.  

_I give up_, Kormick decided.  _That's it.  We've had the silver-spoon-fed teenagers charging into battle and the slave who gives me the skunk-eye at dinner and then saves my life the next day – but that's it.  You win, kid.  Nothing will surprise me ever, ever again._

###

Mena and Tavi rushed into the room in front of Savina, landing blows right and left.  

For her part, Savina paused near Twiggy in the doorway, a prayer to Alirria already on her lips.  She raised her hands and brought the holy light down on the first creature she saw:  a zombie grappling with Arden, growling threats in the slave's ear as it tried to throttle her.

But Savina's attack went amiss as she noticed something.  The zombie was wearing tattered green robes.

_Alirrian_ robes.

There was disgust on Arden's face as she twisted herself out of the creature's grip, wheeled around behind it, and stabbed it in the back.  _But these aren't evil beings_, Savina was realizing.  _These are … these were … priestesses.  Sisters.  And that means … _

For the first time, Savina's gaze went beyond the creatures to take in the whole room:  the ordered pews … the chained-up dwarven woman … that is, the chained-up dwarven woman who was bound to the wall just below the _huge holy symbol of Alirria…  

Oh Goddess…_

"Stop!" Savina cried out.  "Please stop fighting!"

No one listened.  

They were too busy:  The zombie leader raised its hands and blasted forth a dark bolt of energy that struck Nyoko in the chest.  She bit off a scream of pain, ducking for cover behind a pew.  The zombie Arden was battling struck out toward the slave again but Arden danced away.  Mena stabbed a creature that reeled toward Kormick, its arms flailing.  Kormick met it square on, grabbed it by the shoulders, and head-butted it – twice.  The zombie slumped over a pew.  Kormick jumped onto the bench beside it, planted his foot on its shoulder, and hit it again with his warhammer.  He didn't notice the second creature slink up behind him, but he growled in outrage when it slammed a club into his kidneys.  "You must not remain!" the zombie snarled, pounding the Justicar again.  Kormick grasped the pew and held on as he staggered under the onslaught.  Tavi raced over to help, slicing at the zombie tormenting Kormick, his blade setting fires in the wounds it made.

"Kin-mother!" cried Thurran's shrill voice.  The boy ran to the chained dwarven woman.  _She must be Jalissi, the last woman we're missing_, Savina realized.  Even from this distance, Savina could tell that the woman was traumatized:  she cowered in the chains, eyes wide, seemingly unaware of the water that trickled over her from the traditional fountain above the Alirrian symbol.  Thurran struck his pick against her chains.  Jalissi winced at the sparks that flew from the metal.  

Nyoko vaulted out from behind a pew, leaping it with acrobatic grace and flinging another rock at the big zombie.  Savina could see the air around him thicken with some kind of dark energy, and Nyoko's rock flew wide. _If anger itself were visible_, thought Savina, _it would look like that energy._ 

Of course the zombie was angry.  This had to be an Alirrian temple – an old one.  And the Honored Mother in Lord's Edge had told Savina how Alirrians used to be treated in the Sovereignty:  they'd been massacred in the name of Kettenek.  Once again, Savina called out, "Stop!  Don't you see they're Alirrians?  They were probably killed by the Inquisition!  Stop!"

But the zombies weren't stopping, so neither could her companions.  Kormick was in dire trouble, streaked with blood.  Mena yelled at him, "On your right!  _Hit him_!"  Kormick managed a swing and Savina heard the crack of brittle undead bones.  

Twiggy cast:  two other zombies clapped hands to their heads as they fought off whatever vision she had sent into their minds.  

Tavi hurled his blade into the air and it spun around the room, striking a zombie near Arden.  The zombie burst into flames and fell to the ground, its hands clawing wildly at the slave's feet.  Arden jumped back quickly to keep her hard-won boots out of reach of the grasping fingers.  Then she stood, breathing hard, contemplating the creature's death throes. 

"YOU WILL LEAVE OUR HALLS!" thundered the big zombie suddenly.  It stretched forth its hands once more and fired bolts of black energy around the room, mercifully missing everyone. 

In response, Kormick dragged himself to his feet.  He raised his holy symbol high in his bloody hand and drew breath to shout – 

"Oh no, not now – " whispered Savina – 

"IN KETTENEK'S NAME, I COMMAND YOU TO – !"

The leader of the undead Alirrians threw back its head and howled as every other zombie in the room turned away from its opponent and threw itself in holy rage at the Justicar.  As he vanished in the horde, Savina, cold with fear, remembered Kormick's voice, his words to her earlier:  _That was very brave … and very foolish._


----------



## ajanders

So. 
Zombies in the basement.
Again.

With a girl who's going to claim they're her friends.
Some tropes are too good to die.

Or good enough that if they do, they get reanimated.


----------



## WisdomLikeSilence

Well, not *friends* precisely.

More like tragic figures in need of help.  And we know how Savina reacts when she thinks someone needs help...


----------



## Ilex

While we take a brief hiatus for Thanksgiving, and while Kormick contends with -- and Savina pities -- the zombies in the basement -- I offer you a flashback to the first Halmae campaign via spyscribe's illustrious story hour, _Welcome to the Halmae_.  

In this flashback, Lira -- who, years later, will be known as Signora Giovanna, mother of Tavi and Rose -- is traveling with her companions in the Sovereignty of Kettenek.  They're technically searching for an archmage, but they're about to get sidetracked by some Inquisitors and a few scattered references to monks and a mystical spring.  (That sounds... kinda familiar.  Except that our party is technically searching for a mystical spring and has been sidetracked by some derro and the aforementioned zombies.  Bottom line, the two tales are not entirely unrelated.)

You may read it here on enworld...

...or here in StevenAC's PDF compilation.

Enjoy, and Happy Thanksgiving!


----------



## Rughat

Ilex said:


> While we take a brief hiatus for Thanksgiving, and while Kormick contends with -- and Savina pities -- the zombies in the basement -- I offer you a flashback to the first Halmae campaign via spyscribe's illustrious story hour, _Welcome to the Halmae_.




I plan to have my work submit an invoice for lost time.  Stupid story hours that pull you back in even though you've already read them.


----------



## Ilex

Rughat said:


> Stupid story hours that pull you back in even though you've already read them.




That's what happened to me when I went looking for the flashback, too.  And I was trying to _save_ myself time.


----------



## Ilex

*8x02*

Twiggy winced in sympathetic pain as the zombies mobbed Kormick.  And continued to mob Kormick.  Nothing seemed to distract them, even when Mena reached into the throng, grabbed one of the creatures, and hurled it to the ground so that Tavi could pierce its gut with his sword, killing it.  The zombies ignored their fallen comrade and continued to pummel the Justicar.  Kormick was doing remarkably well at continuing to stay upright in the face of the zombie onslaught, but that’s all he could do—stay standing.

_He was trying to help,_ thought Twiggy, _and this is what he got._ 

Twiggy cast _illusory ambush_, making one of the zombies see images of another Kormick, attacking from the other side.  The creature flailed wildly at the air before grabbing its head in pain.  Twiggy had never seen a zombie before, but she had read about them, and she understood why Kormick did what he did:  they were abominations before Kettenek, God of the Dead, and they were not the sorts of creatures that one reasoned with.  

Still, he had picked an odd time to remember the doctrines of his faith.  Arden was staring at Kormick, astonished, and Twiggy knew why:  Calling attention to _Kettenek_ in a roomful of undead _Alirrians_ who'd most likely been murdered by _Kettenites_?  Not to put too fine a point on it. 

She cast again, this time sending a zombie an image of a flood that would suffocate it.  _I’m not sure that’s any better_, she thought, _but at least it’s an Alirrian image._  To her relief, the zombie dropped and didn't move, giving Savina a crucial opening to get close enough to Kormick for a quick healing prayer.  

Then Savina stepped back, took a deep breath, and held up _her_ holy symbol.  She spoke loudly but did not shout: "Alirria is the goddess of peace and love.  Not death."

And the zombies – paused.

_Maybe they can be reasoned with, after all_, thought Twiggy.

In the sudden silence, Kormick's breathing was harsh and painful.  But—finally—the zombies weren’t looking at him.  They were looking at Savina.  Responding to something that she saw in their eyes, Savina spoke again.  "Yes, I truly worship the Mother.  Please stop so we can talk about this."

The peace held for one more fragile instant … then a zombie growled and shoved Kormick hard, sending the Justicar careening into another zombie, who punched him. 

Tavi called out, "We come seeking Alliria's aid and succor in a quest against Sedellus!"

The zombie leader launched a bolt of glowing black energy at Kormick, who nearly fell over.  The leader roared, "We will _never_ surrender the spring!"

Twiggy's ears perked up.  _The spring?_  She darted a glance at the trickle of water spilling over the Alirrian holy symbol—and Jalissi—on the wall.  _I don't think *that* could be it—most Alirrian Temples have fountains like that.  But this must be the monastery that Dona Giovanna went to!  They must know where the Spring is!_ 

Kormick, perhaps having a similar thought, cast a solemn look at Savina and muttered, "You'd better be right."  Then, very deliberately, he knelt down.  He put both his hammers down on the ground before him.  He held up his hands.

And again – the zombies paused.

"Don't stop!"  Thurran's high voice pierced the chapel.  "Fight them!  Fight them, humans!  Look what they did to my kin-mother!"  He had gotten almost all of the chains holding Jalissi unlocked – only one of her wrists still held her to the wall.  But Thurran was now brandishing his pick and sword dangerously, preparing to charge a zombie.

"Thurran, we must be brave enough to trust," declared Mena, staring down at the boy as her armor muttered echoes of her words.  

_Right – because that's Mena's specialty.  Trust._  Twiggy squelched a grim chuckle.  But who better than the embodiment of paranoia to convince Thurran?  Thurran’s eyes darted from Mena to Kormick as both warriors stared him down.  Though he didn't exactly look reassured, the boy turned back to Jalissi and his pick rang out again on the cuff around her wrist.

Savina had kept her eyes on the zombies the entire time.  Now she spoke once more.  "All of us honor Alirria," she said.  "Perhaps we can help each other."  

"If you allow us to pass, we can help rebuild your temple!" suggested Twiggy.  Mena gave her a look, and she realized that she might be sounding a wee bit ambitious.  _Still… wouldn't a map to the spring be worth it?_ 

Twiggy’s blood ran cold as the zombie leader stared at her.  She could feel Acorn trembling in her pocket and could hear his frightened voice in her head: Why did you have to draw attention to us?

_Just trying to help, Acorn,_ Twiggy thought.

Then the zombie turned to look at Kormick, and from him to Nyoko.  _She called him “Honored Justicar,” didn’t she_, Twiggy thought, remembering the start of the battle.  "If you wish to negotiate an agreement of peace," offered Nyoko, "I will witness it—“

"_They_ will have no part in the temple!" thundered the zombie leader.  Black energy shot from his hand as he pointed at Nyoko; she dodged the worst of it but was seared along her arm.  "Just trying to help," she muttered.

_Aren't we all_, agreed Twiggy grimly, readying another _illusory ambush_.  

Four zombies remained:  three who had resumed clawing at Kormick, and the leader, who now fired again at Nyoko.  Twiggy sent him a gift of nightmares, staggering him and giving Nyoko time to retreat behind a pew.  Kormick still knelt, one hand on the floor, absorbing the blows – whether by force of will or because he was too exhausted to fight back, Twiggy wasn't sure.  Next to him, Tavi's flaming blade intercepted a zombie just as it struck out at the Justicar once more.  The creature fell to a burning death, and Tavi told it, "I hope that serves to give you rest."

With a cry of triumph, Thurran finally freed Jalissi, who dropped to the ground.  "Help me!" Thurran called, and Mena and Nyoko, who were closest, rushed to his assistance.  Two zombies turned and barreled after them. 

"Mena!  Watch out!" Twiggy called, unleashing another _illusory ambush_.  It missed.  Mena wheeled and joined battle with both zombies at once as Nyoko knelt to assist Thurran with his shocked, shivering kin-mother.  

Twiggy turned to Arden, who had joined her in the shadow of the doorframe.  "Mena needs help," Twiggy pointed out.  

Arden shook her head, a bruise darkening her cheek where a zombie had struck her.  "The Blessed Daughter isn't fighting, Lady Chelesta," she answered.  "I don't think I should, either."  

It was true:  Savina was walking boldly up to the big zombie, urging it to hear reason.  It ignored her, stretching out its hand to send a blast of energy towards Kormick – and Savina still didn't raise a hand against it.  She just stepped even closer and kept talking about Alirria.  

With a sweep of her sword, Mena cleaved open the head of one of the remaining zombies and it fell with a crash to the floor.  Her sword stuck in the creature's skull, and the other zombie closed in quickly.  "Hurry, fight it!  Fight it!" hollered Thurran.

And suddenly there was Kormick, leaping over a pew.  "If you want something done right – " he hit the zombie with the first warhammer – "do it yourself."  The second warhammer mashed its head to a pulp.  It collapsed inches from Nyoko, Thurran, and Jalissi.  Kormick slumped down, spent.  Thurran’s eyes widened in awe as he stared at the Justicar and the dead zombie on the floor.

The last surviving creature – the leader – gave a wail of rage and anguish.  It lumbered into a run and plowed toward Kormick, Nyoko, Mena, Thurran, and Jalissi.  Its anger pulsed through the room like the breath of some hot, huge beast, making Twiggy's head spin.  It raised its hands.  Black energy crackled along its fingers.  

Kormick was right in its path.  

"I'll help you, human!" Thurran yelled, and hurled his pick.  The small tool flew end-over-end and stuck, quivering, in the zombie leader's heart.  The zombie's arms went limp, the sparks dying out on its fingertips, as it stared in astonishment at the boy standing defiant beneath the huge Alirrian symbol.

With an earth-shaking thud, the last zombie fell to its knees. 

"Alirria—" it murmured.  Then, finally, it collapsed onto its side, unmoving.  

Savina made a holy gesture over it.  "Be at peace," she whispered, tears in her eyes.  “All of you,” she gestured over the whole room, “be at peace.”

Thurran broke the silence.  "Whoopee!”  he yelled, throwing his arms around Kormick’s leg.  “That was _amazing_!"


----------



## ajanders

*Squee!*

Also, has Kormick been surprised again? Despite his best intentions?


----------



## Ilex

ajanders said:


> Also, has Kormick been surprised again? Despite his best intentions?




Thurran was _awesome_, and the fact that he threw his pick to kill the zombie leader was even more awesome.  

And the thing about Kormick and surprise is:  that guy gives as good as he gets.  Possibly better.  He surprised us all but good when he walked into the ball halfway through the first session wearing Justicar robes:  _Wait?  That guy from the crime capital of the Halmae is a lawman?_  And the whole "In Kettenek's name" thing in this session was pretty jaw-dropping, too.

Along these lines, I've been meaning to point out that "the single most exciting roll of a natural 20 that has yet occurred in the game," mentioned here by Fajitas, has now appeared in the story hour, when Kormick speaks Kartan's funeral prayers in session 6.  

Apparently, Kormick surprises us when he... you know... does his job.  As a Justicar.  Oh we of little faith.


----------



## ellinor

*Announcement!*

About 6 months ago, Fajitas and WisdomLikeSilence informed us that there would be a new member joining our little gaming circle.   Now, we can announce that there is a Very Good Reason why we don't have an update to post this week:

Please join us in welcoming Fajitas' and WisdomLikeSilence's daughter (henceforth known as "FajitasLikeSilence" ... or possibly "WisdomLikeFajitas") into the world!


----------



## Abciximab

Ah, it's the beginning of a new adventure (the best kind even). Welcome to the new gamer. When my children we're born I had already bought them their first set of dice, which they both use on a fairly regular basis. 

Congratulations to the new mom and dad, hope you find parenthood as much fun (in all things) as I do with my children. (This *is* the first, yes?)


----------



## Rughat

Congratulations!  I cherish the pictures of my kids playing with a giant plush D20, or chewing on an oversized D20.  I also recommend The Quests of Samantha the Red (http://www.enworld.org/forum/story-hour/106634-quests-samantha-red-pictures-included-updated-8-5-a.html)  for lovely kid-gaming fun.


----------



## Ilex

If I may speak on behalf of the new parents, thanks for the good wishes!  As I understand it, WisdomLikeFajitas assisted in editing this next update by napping helpfully in her dad's arms while he looked it over.


----------



## Ilex

*8x03*

The zombie fight was over, and Tavi was tired.  He hesitated to admit that to himself – and not for all the gold in Pol Aego was he admitting it to _Phoebe_ – but it was true.  

His exhaustion nonetheless seemed insignificant as he watched Kormick flop onto one of the chapel's pews, lie back, and close his eyes beneath a mask of blood and bruises.  _That's just about how I felt after fighting Lurx_, thought Tavi – and an image of Savina's face as she healed him came unbidden into his mind.  He smiled inwardly and marveled at the power of her healing abilities:  less than an hour ago, he was nearly dead.  Now, he was tired.  

He caught Savina’s eye.  She was observing as Thurran, Nyoko, and Mena tried to soothe Jalissi, the dwarven women they'd just rescued from the zombies.  Jalissi wouldn't speak – not even to Thurran.  Mena settled for gripping the woman's hand briefly and telling her calmly, "Throughout history, dwarves have survived.  You can survive.  You are in good company."  She asked for no response, and Jalissi didn't give one … except that her eyes met Mena's briefly.

"There's no healing I can give Jalissi for this," murmured Savina, stepping up beside Tavi.  "I think – I think she just needs time."

"I hope she gets time, but she can't have it here," said Tavi.  "We have to keep moving."

"I don't understand what she's doing here," continued Savina.  "Why would Alirrian priestesses – even undead ones – do that to her?"

"I don't think they did.  I think the derro put her there to distract the zomb – I mean, the priestesses – from Lurx's tunneling project down the hall.  Kartan was probably the first distraction they left here.  After he died, they brought in Jalissi."

"That's terrible," whispered Savina.  Savina looked tired too, he noticed.  Of course she did.  For Tavi, this was new, but years of Mena’s training had prepared him.  He couldn’t even imagine what Savina must be going through.

Phoebe swooped down in front of Tavi's face.  Hey, Tavi, you should put your arm around Savina or something!  Make a move!  That would cheer her up!

Tavi shook his head.  

Well, it'd cheer _me_ up.

Twiggy had gone back down the hall to fetch Rose and the rest of the dwarves, and now she led them all into the room.  Sertani and Corani hurried to their sister-wife.  As Corani ministered to Jalissi, Thurran tugged on Sertani's hand.  

"That one over there was _amazing_!" he told her, pointing to the Justicar, who was still sprawled on a pew.

Sertani blinked.  "Truly?"  Tavi grinned at the skepticism in her voice.  

Dragged toward Kormick by her son, Sertani stood over the Justicar and asked, in Common, "_You_ were brave?"

"Merely functional," grunted Kormick, eyes still closed.

Thurran tugged his mother's hand yet again and said, in Dwarven, "Tell him how amazing he was!" 

"The Lord Rockminder wishes to express his considered admiration for your valiant actions."

Kormick's eyes slitted open and took in the glowing hero-worship on the face of the seven-year-old.  Then he turned his head to look at Tavi:  "Sorry, Tavi.  The little one's on my team now."  He noticed Savina.  "I don't suppose my much-admired self could get some healing over here?" he muttered, closing his eyes again.

Tavi expected Savina to be stricken to the core by the Justicar's rudeness.  Maybe she was.  But she merely walked to Kormick's side and put her hand on his forehead.  "I – I  had to rest a little," she explained softly.

Kormick sighed in relief as her healing powers took effect.  

"I know, I know," he said, his eyes still closed.  "You are very kind.  In Dar Und, we – well.  Perhaps I am the slightest little bit out of practice with kindness.  You understand?"

_There's something you don't see every day, Pheebs_, Tavi thought.  _Kormick just apologized for something.  Sort of._

Just because it's unusual doesn't make it exciting.

_Look, go dive-bomb Whisper or something._

Okay! The hummingbird took off across the room, then swooped back, then vanished into the hall, and then was back. Where’s Whisper?

"So," said Kormick, sitting up and gesturing at the fountain.  "Is it too much to hope that we've arrived at the famous spring?"

"I don't think that's it," said Savina.

"Because, for the record, I am very much hoping that we've arrived at the famous spring and now we can all relax and sleep for twenty years." 

Savina walked over, put her hand into the water, and shook her head.  "This water doesn't feel holy to me."  

"But this place is obviously an Alirrian chapel," said Rose.  "It must be the monastery from my mother's stories."

"The Honored Mother in Lord's Edge mentioned a monastery that he and the other Inquisitors attacked," said Savina, "but I thought it was in the city of Cauldron."

"There are hot baths in Cauldron," murmured Nyoko, more to herself than anyone else.  Acorn suddenly popped his head up out of Twiggy’s dress and looked with starving intensity at Nyoko.  Twiggy stroked his head reassuringly as she joined in the conversation.

"The monks retreated to Cauldron after an earlier attack, I think," said Twiggy.  "But I'm pretty sure Dona Giovanna said they used to live closer to the spring.  Do you remember, Rose?"

"You've got it right.  Mother spoke about an old monastery about five or six days away from the spring."

"If this is it, then I bet there's a path from here," Twiggy concluded triumphantly.  "We're close!"

"Five or six days is not 'close,'" said Kormick.  "Not in the Ketkath."

Whisper glided in through the doorway and swept silently to Rose's shoulder.  Phoebe immediately launched an attack on the pseudodragon.

_Phoebe!_

You told me to!

_True enough.  Carry on._

Hey! Phoebe chirped in outrage as Rose swatted her away and rolled her eyes at Tavi.  Tavi shrugged with pretend innocence.

"Whisper has news if you'll condescend to let him tell me about it, brother Octavian," Rose announced with faux-haughtiness.

Tavi gave her an exaggerated bow.  "At your service."

Rose parodied a quick curtsy, but then the twinkle went out of her eye as Whisper silently spoke to her.  "Whisper says that one derro sneaked away at the end of the fight with Lurx," she explained.  "He went into that tunnel we saw branching off to one side, halfway down the crevice.  Whisper followed him for some time, but it's a very long tunnel."

"He's almost certainly gone to seek reinforcements," spoke up Nyoko.  "That tunnel leads back to the main derro warren."

"_This_ isn't the main one?" demanded Mena.

Nyoko shook her head, and Mena groaned in annoyance.  "They brought me here through that tunnel," Nyoko continued.  "It's six miles long.  It took us about five hours to traverse it – we can assume that the derro reinforcements will make better speed than chained slaves.  To be safe, in fact, we should assume that a renewed force of derro will arrive here in about eight hours."

Silence fell.  An exhausted silence.  They weren't done yet.  

Mena sighed.  "Then our goal is simple.  We must leave this hateful place far behind us before then, which I suspect we're all eager to do anyway.  Let's keep moving."

"Dame Mena has it right," agreed Kormick.  "Slave, that unobtrusive little door in the back wall requires your attention."

Tavi looked around for Arden.  She was standing near the hallway, not paying attention.

"Slave," said Kormick.  "The door."

She looked up, startled, and then flashed an apologetic smile.  "Yes, Justicar," she said, and crossed the room.  

There was a _click_ as Arden opened the small door.  They all stayed silent as she put an eye to the crack in the door, then opened it a little wider.  Suddenly she withdrew her head and gingerly, using both hands, closed the door.  She turned around, looking paler than usual.

"Please you, it's a hallway," she said softly.  "And it's lined with corpses.  Four high on each side, on shelves cut into the stone.  The corpses look like – "  She looked at the dead zombies.  "They look like them.  And some of the shelves are empty."  

"Soooo," said Kormick.  "We would not want to enter that hallway and, let us say, wake anyone else up."  

Arden nodded fervently.  

Tavi looked at the group.  They were all looking at each other, every face saying in its own way what Kormick had said aloud.  

Rose seemed to hold her breath as she looked down, concern showing clearly on her face.

"Then," said Tavi, "let's see where the tunnel _outside_ the entrance to this room ends up."


----------



## Ilex

*8x04*

_Happy holidays!  This being the season of Kettenek, may all your celebrations be moderate, sober, cool-headed, and just.

_


Nyoko joined the group – more accurately, the _crowd_ – as they walked out of the Alirrian chapel and turned right, in the opposite direction from the room where Lurx's body now lay.  She had no problem leaving Lurx behind, of course, but she was a bit bemused by the composition of her rescue party:  heathens and children.  That said, they weren't incompetent.  They'd dealt with Lurx;  they'd dealt with the zombies;  and now, as the Honored Justicar and the servant Arden took the lead, she was pleased to see that they could even move silently and with a modicum of grace when they really, really tried.  _Just maybe I will be having a hot bath in Cauldron before too many days pass, after all._

The situation brightened a little more as they investigated a small side room decorated with an intricate green and blue mosaic on the floor.  The artwork on the walls was not as fine as some of her Adept brethren might produce, but Nyoko found it pleasing, nonetheless, with its old-fashioned depictions of trees, birds, fish, and water.  What mostly caught her eye, however, was a wall of weaponry:  several quarterstaffs, a rusted scythe, and a couple bows and quivers of arrows.  Nyoko inspected both bows carefully and chose the one less rotted by time:  its string un-frayed, its limbs sound.  Although she would not, of course, make an absolute statement about a technically uncertain future, the powerful feel of the bow in her hand made her _very_ confident that a hot bath in Cauldron was, in fact, an eminently reasonable hope. 

The Justicar watched her string and unstring the bow, testing it.  "What is it, exactly, that you do?" he asked.

"I am an Adept."

"Adept at what?"

"Many things."  Nyoko loaded all the arrows into one quiver and slung it across her back.  "Those of my order are meant to be seen – and to see.  If you wish to hear a song, I shall perform it.  If you require an impartial witness to events, my memory shall provide it."

"So are you a tavern entertainer or a court reporter?"

"You speak of amateurs, Honored Justicar," answered Nyoko.  "I am an _Adept_.  Among other things, it means that when I get home to Cauldron, I will give a full and accurate report of my abduction and liberation to the proper authorities."

"You're a fan of Sovereign authority, then.  Do you support those Inquisitors?"

"Adepts are above the Circle from the Inquisitors."

"I… have no idea what that means.  Are you saying you outrank them?"

"You might put it that way – crudely.  Why do you ask?"

"We met some Inquisitors in Lord's Edge.  They gave us a charming welcome.  So charming, in fact, that sometimes as I drift off to sleep I think of them warmly.  In the sense of lighting them on fire."

Nyoko quickly decided that the Justicar was exaggerating rather than making a confession of intent to commit mass murder.  Nonetheless, she slid these heathens a few notches up her mental scale of strangeness.  Externally, thanks to years of training and practice, she held back all reaction except a startled blink, and she answered diplomatically, "Lord's Edge is more conservative than most of the Sovereignty.  Their frequent contact with outsiders makes them defensive, and they have held onto many of the old ways despite the Affirmation.  Personally, I prefer the more enlightened atmosphere of Cauldron."

"So you outrank Inquisitors, and Lord's Edge isn't your favorite place, either.  I hope you're an influential young lady."

"Certainly, Honored Justicar, though my influence is due to the sacred office that I and my fellow Adepts hold, not to my personal reputation.  As a Justicar, I'm sure you feel the same way."

"Um, occasionally," he answered.  "Although, in Dar Und, joining the crew of the Great Boss of Justice is not widely regarded as, let us say, the strongest possible career move.  Yet."

"Forgive me, I am not entirely familiar with heathen idiom.  The Great Boss of – ?"

"Excuse me," interrupted the young nobleman, Tavi, as his apparently tame hummingbird thrummed by his ear.  "We really should keep our voices down."

They walked out of the room and on down the corridor.  Ahead came an echoing _plink_ … _plash_ of water dripping, slowly and steadily.  The hallway soon opened up into a round domed chamber where droplets slid off stalactites into a still pool beneath.  

"Please tell me this is it," said the Justicar.

"I don't _think_ so," said the Alirrian girl, Savina, "but maybe…."  Nyoko had gathered from their conversation that these heathens were searching for a particular spring, but she wasn't sure why.  She watched Savina step forward, kneel down, and place her hand in the water.  Her trained eye observed that the girl's body suddenly relaxed, as if all her worries vanished at once:  her tense shoulders lowered and she sighed out a long breath.  

Savina raised her dripping hand and touched a finger to her forehead and her lips, murmuring a prayer to the godling Alirria.  Then she turned to them, smiling.  "I don't think it's _the_ spring, but it's wonderful," she said.  "Come and see."  

First one person, then the next, knelt or crouched around the water and touched it.  Nyoko watched as each in turn relaxed.  The Justicar stuck his hand into the pool, frowning, and then laughed, looking at his dripping palm with astonishment.  "That," he said, "is better than the ale at Günter's Cry of Agony."  Arden hesitated, waiting for the others to have their turn, and then she slipped to the water's edge and touched it hesitantly.  Nyoko saw the bruise on her face vanish, just as if a healer had treated it.  

Curious to try for herself, Nyoko dipped a finger into the water.  It felt like normal water, but strength and vitality coursed through her as the last of her injuries, Lurx- and zombie-inflicted, vanished.  It was healing water, clearly.  "Thanks be to Kettenek," she said.

"But, Lady Nyoko – I mean, Nyoko-san – this is an Alirrian place," said Savina.

"All things belong to Kettenek," Nyoko replied tranquilly, but the girl looked so confused that she added, "Of course, your worship of the godlings is permitted."  

"That's big of you," muttered the Justicar.  

Savina gave her a troubled look but turned away, studying the items on the shelves around the chamber's shadowy perimeter.  Suddenly she gasped.  "Oh, my goddess."  

"What?" asked Tavi.

She turned around, holding a small glass vial of liquid that she'd taken off a shelf.  "This," she breathed.  "This is _very holy_."  

"Holy, as in 'holy spring' holy?" asked Twiggy.

"I – I think so.  It must be water from there.  This is wonderful.  It feels – it feels almost alive."  

"Bring it with us," declared Mena.  "It may prove useful."

Savina carefully tucked the vial into her bodice.  

"Onward," declared Tavi.  

"Already?" asked Savina.  "I feel like I could stay here forever."  

"Between the derro and the zombies, this place isn't going to stay peaceful for long," said Mena.  "Let's move."  

The corridor resumed on the far side of the domed room.  They went on.

### 

The hallway they were following ended at another corridor running perpendicular to it.  Arden, who was in the lead, realized that she recognized it: it was the crypt-hall, lined with the Alirrian corpses.  To the right it must curve back to the chapel where they'd fought the zombies.  To the left was unknown, so of course the group sent her to explore it alone.  It was prudent, Arden allowed.  Until they knew where the hallway went, it wasn't worth the risk to bring their large party, including the children, through it.  It was all too likely that someone would accidentally knock a brittle finger off a corpse. 

So here she was again.  Alone.  In a dark corridor lit only faintly by patches of green moss.  Bodies in decaying green robes slept on either side of her.  _Lady Alirria_, she prayed, _forgive my intrusion_.  Braced for a lizard's teeth or a zombie's hiss or a hurtling piece of crockery, she crept forward.

Arden passed more and more bodies until the walls curved away on either side, the ceiling rose, and she stepped into a large, dim chamber.  She paused by the doorway.  Faintly, at the edge of her hearing, some rustle or whisper seemed to echo and re-echo, though she had made no sound.  Bodies lined this room, too, and columns marched across it.  An ornate symbol of Alirria was set into the floor, spanning the room.  There was a door in the far wall. 

And glimmering down onto the Alirrian symbol from somewhere just beyond that door was…

… sunlight.


----------



## Ilex

*8x05*

The sunlight coming through the door at the other end of the hall was pink-gold and rippling:  the light of earliest dawn flickering amid forest leaves.  Arden took one involuntary step forward and her hand came up to grasp a column.  She gripped the stone so hard that her fingers hurt.  She wanted to run – she wanted nothing more than to run across the room and into that light – but some cynical instinct held her back.  _It's too easy_, the instinct muttered.  _And when an escape looks too easy – that's when you're about to get caught._.

She took a deep breath, her hand still on the column, and studied the room.  Something about that symbol on the floor … it wasn't like the holy symbol in an average temple.  It was oddly placed, the design slightly _off_ in ways she couldn't pinpoint, and … it simply wasn't right.  She couldn't figure out more than that, but an Alirrian could – the Blessed Daughter would have the knowledge to understand it.  

For now, Arden understood that she wasn't going to be running across that room anytime soon.  She smiled ruefully.  Whether a blind-drunk overseer or one of the Gods Themselves was holding the key to your chains, escape was never, ever easy.  She drank in one last sight of the sunlight, turned, and walked back down the corridor to report what she'd found.  

Her news initiated a debate.  The Blessed Daughter was curious to see the symbol, Lady Chelesta wanted to know what was outside, and Mena, though she didn't say anything, clearly felt as strongly as Arden that the sooner she was out of these tunnels, the happier she'd be.  But when Signor Octavian pointed out that their task wasn't finished, Mena nodded understanding even before Ordren, the young dwarven man, made the point explicit:  "We still haven't found Mirtal."

"He was your cook, right?" reasoned Tavi.  "And we've been told there's a kitchen on the lower levels … which we could probably reach through that one door we never explored at the original entrance."

"It'll be a long trek back through this place," said Kormick.  "That being said, we've killed everything between here and there."

"We must rescue Mirtal," declared Mena.  "But it would be prudent to check this exit that Arden has found first, so we'll know whether it's worth coming all the way back in this direction after finding him."  

"Remember that we don't have much time," said Nyoko.

With that, Arden led Signor Octavian, the Blessed Daughter, the Justicar, and Lady Chelesta down the hall to the entryway.  

The sunlight was already stronger.

Arden stood aside and listened as the others conferred about the symbol.  Once Tavi and Twiggy added their arcane expertise to the Blessed Daughter's divine assessment, they concluded that the symbol was a trap meant to stop non-Alirrians.  

"Then I – I suppose only I can cross it," said the Blessed Daughter, and set off without hesitation toward the symbol.  

"Um – " began Tavi, but Kormick shrugged at him, and they let her go.  Arden found herself proud of this latest display of Savina's growing courage and had to suppress a laugh at such unexpected sentimentality: _What's wrong with me?  I'm her slave, not her mother.  Gods, I need sleep._

Savina paused for an instant as she reached the Alirrian symbol.  Then she put one delicate toe on the symbol and looked around cautiously.  Next she took one full step forward and froze, looking up as sharply as a spooked cat.  Arden looked around.  None of the bodies had stirred.

"Did you hear something?" Savina asked.  

"Nothing," called Tavi.  

"I thought I heard – or maybe it was just a feeling – like something here is sad.  And … angry."

Arden scanned all the corpses again, her hand on her sword.  Everything was still.

"I think you're good," Tavi said. 

"All right," said Savina.  She walked on across the symbol.  They all let out their breath as she reached the other side uneventfully.  She peeked out the doorway.   

"There's a stairway that goes up and out," she called.  "I'll be fine!  Back in a minute!"

"You have three!" called Kormick.

Savina vanished up the stairs.  And they waited.

### 

Savina had to squint as she approached the final doorway:  the dawn light wasn't bright, but after her hours in the derro warren, it overwhelmed her eyes.  She hesitated a moment, then emerged, blinking, into the open air just as the first slice of true sunlight blazed across the horizon and shot through the trees around her.  

"Alirria, Mother, Lady of Dawn," she whispered.  "Thank you."  

Knowing that she didn't have time for longer prayers, she looked around.  She was standing on a terrace cut into the side of a mountain.  Charred and fallen timbers of several buildings surrounded her.  

An overgrown trail took off from one side of the terrace, leading down off the rock and plunging into the trees.  

At the end of the terrace stood a stake bearing a symbol of Kettenek and the image of a sharp, commanding hand, palm outward toward the world.  Savina was sure it was a warning from the Inquisitors who must have burned this monastery and killed the Alirrian monks inside:  it meant, "Keep out.  Unholy ground."  She frowned angrily.  She would agree with the Inquisitors that a terrible sacrilege had occurred here … but _the Inquisitors_ had committed it against her Alirrian sisters, not the other way around.

After studying her surroundings once more, Savina reluctantly turned her back on Alirria's light and made her way down the stairway into the perpetual night beneath.  She emerged into the entry hall and waved at the anxious group of Tavi, Twiggy, Kormick, and Arden on the other side of the dangerous symbol.  

"I'm back!" she called.

She hesitated before setting foot on the symbol, both to let her eyes re-adjust to the dimness and because she knew that this trip was more risky:  the trap was obviously meant to keep the uninvited from coming in, not from going out – who would build such a thing otherwise? – and this time she was coming in.  She took a deep breath and stepped onto the symbol.  As when she'd crossed it before, she heard murmurings and felt strange emotions deep within her: whispers of sorrow and fury.  But she kept walking, and soon she was across.  None of the others seemed to have heard anything.

"What'd you see?" asked Twiggy.

"Sunrise," Savina announced, and then described the rest. 

"I bet that path is the trail to the spring," said Twiggy.  "That's the way we have to go."  

"Yes," agreed Tavi, "assuming we can find a way for the rest of us to cross that symbol.  If we can't, we'll have to go out the way we came in."

"Then we'll be lost," said Savina.  "I didn't recognize anything just now.  I'd never find this place again if we went out the other door." 

"We've probably cut through a ridge of mountains by traveling through the tunnels," reasoned Kormick.  "Finding this place by traveling overland could take days."

"So we have to go back to the original entrance, get Mirtal – and our mule – and then come back here and find a way past this symbol," said Twiggy.  "And we don't have much time."

"We have to solve the problem of this symbol first," decided Tavi.  "If we can't get past it, there's no point in coming back this way after we find Mirtal."

"I have an idea," Kormick announced.  "Young lady, order your slave to walk over the symbol and spring the trap.  All we have to do is sit back and watch her die horribly, and then we can cross.  An elegant and cheap solution, yes?" 

Arden raised an eyebrow at him, humor twinkling unmistakably in her eye.

"No offense," Kormick told her.

"Never, Justicar."

"There's another problem," said Twiggy.  "If we destroy this trap, we'll be leaving this place undefended.  Anyone could come in and make trouble.  And by 'anyone,' I mean Inquisitors."

Twiggy's suggestion concerned Savina, but as she thought it over, she changed her mind.  "That sign outside looked old," she said.  "I don't think anyone's likely to come here anymore.  And Alirria will watch after everything." 

"I _could_ mention that Alirria didn't lift a finger to stop the brigades of derro who were desecrating her sacred temple with complete impunity, but I won't," said Kormick, and this time he shot a wry look straight at Arden.  And Arden smiled _back_.  Savina knew they were sharing amusement at her expense, as if she were a little child, and she didn't approve.  Not one bit.  She stood straighter.

"Alirria _will_ defend this place if the need is truly great, Justicar Kormick.  The derro were scared of the chapel and wanted to avoid it.  That's why they were trying to tunnel around it, don't you see?  But there is something wrong here.   Alirria is the goddess of healing and peace, and I – I feel that there are spirits here, bound to that symbol, who are trapped in a state of anger and vengeance.  We have to summon them and give them release, and then we can all leave safely."

Her heart was pounding as she finished her speech.  There was silence for a moment – respectful silence.  Then Tavi nodded and said, "It'll be up to you to pray.  But I can help."  

"So can I," agreed Twiggy.  “I have read about the operation of necromancy and binding spells, and I’m sure Tavi and I can piece something together to help unravel this.”

"I can leave," said Kormick quietly.  "We've already learned that these undead Alirrians are not my biggest fans, so while you summon their vengeful souls, I'll go back and tell everyone what's going on.  The wild screaming you hear will be Dame Mena cutting off my ear for letting you try this.  Just tune it out as best you can." 

"Blessed Daughter, can I be of help?" asked Arden, eyes lowered.  

"No, Arden."  

"Then … may I please go with the Justicar?"  Arden didn't merely seem respectful.  She seemed apprehensive at the thought of her mistress calling upon powerful magical forces.  

"You may," Savina said.  Arden bowed her head obediently and retreated with Kormick.

As Tavi and Twiggy turned to her expectantly, Savina felt frightened.  She'd spoken out like an adult, but she hadn't necessarily expected that everyone would immediately accept her leadership.  She hadn't even come of age yet.  Surely another, more experienced priestess from home would do this better… and what if she was wrong altogether?  What if Kormick and Arden had been right to laugh at her childishness?  

She took an unsteady breath.  _My birthday is very soon – I'm almost an adult.  And there are Alirrian spirits here who need my help … I'm sure of it._  She was a di Infusino and a Blessed Daughter of the Goddess.  She would not shirk her duty.

After a brief conference about how best to combine their powers, Savina knelt down near the edge of the symbol and bowed her head.  She felt Tavi's hand on her shoulder, steadying her, and, from behind her, she heard Twiggy chanting softly.

"In the name of our holy Mother Alirria …" Savina began.

The foreign emotions she had felt earlier as she crossed the symbol rose up again and swirled into her mind.  Voices, murmuring words she couldn't quite make out, blended with the melodic drone of Twiggy's chant. 

"Please," prayed Savina.  "I would speak with you, my sisters."

The air above the symbol shimmered.  Savina felt herself sway and almost fall.  Tavi's firm hand held her up. 

The shimmering coalesced into the form of a woman.  It was an Alirrian high priestess.  And on her face were the emotions that Savina had felt all along: pain, sorrow, and profound anger.


----------



## coyote6

Hmm, why do I feel like there should a commercial break right after that? 

Did the players know this wasn't going to start a fight? 'Cause "let's summon up a pack of angry, vengeful spirits" sure sounds like a recipe for a fight, and the party just split up.

PS: Happy New Year!


----------



## Ilex

coyote6 said:


> Did the players know this wasn't going to start a fight? 'Cause "let's summon up a pack of angry, vengeful spirits" sure sounds like a recipe for a fight, and the party just split up.




As I recall, Savina, Tavi, and Twiggy's general consensus (based on religion and arcana checks) was that _if_ they succeeded at laying the spirits to rest, there shouldn't be a fight.  If they failed, sure, all those other corpses might wake up, zombie-style, and they'd be in trouble.  (In other words, the summoning of the spirits was a skill challenge, and we were able to make a pretty good guess that those were the success/failure conditions.)  I don't remember if we explicitly talked about splitting the party, or if the idea was that Savina, Tavi, and Twiggy could retreat to the rest of us if the zombies awoke... or what.  I _do_ remember that Arden was eager to be elsewhere.  

P.S.:  Yes, happy new year, everyone!


----------



## Fajitas

Ilex said:


> In other words, the summoning of the spirits was a skill challenge, and we were able to make a pretty good guess that those were the success/failure conditions.




There's a couple of good DMing lessons to be found in this story.  According to my notes, there *was* gonna be a fight the minute any non-Alirrian (anyone other than Savina, that is) tried to cross the seal.  For reasons I can't explain (with this party, it should have been obvious), I didn't really think about what to do if they *didn't* want to fight the Alirrians who, after all, didn't really deserve to be slain (again).  So the skill challenge was a pretty ad hoc thing from my side.

That said, it was exactly what the PCs wanted to do, it made perfect sense in character and in-game, and it actually worked really well to give them a chance to escape this horrible, horrible, 5-straight session with NO EXTENDED REST dungeon without another fight.

Seriously, the party as a whole was down to about 4 healing surges at this point.  And that's *after* burning through all the extras I'd scattered through the place for them.


----------



## coyote6

You know, we haven't had an update _all year_.


----------



## Ilex

coyote6 said:


> You know, we haven't had an update _all year_.




Heavens, I had no idea we'd been so remiss!  Let's remedy that right now, shall we?


----------



## Ilex

*8x06*

The Alirrian priestess looked down and focused her gaze on Savina.  "Why do you do this to us, Sister?" the shape demanded.

Though the sight of the ghostly woman sent a shiver through her, Savina straightened her back and told herself again that this was her duty.  She had to do her best.

"Honored Mother, a generation has passed," she told the spirit.  "Those who desecrated your temple died long ago.  Your presence here is – is creating death, doing harm.  Please, it's time to let the temple find the peace of our Lady again."

Tavi gave Savina a quick, reassuring pat and then stepped back to Twiggy, adding his voice to hers as Twiggy began to chant quietly and chalk a symbol on the floor.  The woman's figure wavered, then grew stronger.  She glared down at Savina.

"We are all that is left," said the figure.  She seemed to lean closer, to loom menacingly over Savina.  "No one else will protect this home of ours.  _No one cares._"

"I care," whispered Savina.  "We – we care."  

"Then why are you weakening our ability to protect this place?"

"Is Alirria not best protected through life and love?" asked Savina.  "And by keeping everybody out, do you not also keep out those who seek our Lady's grace?"

The woman winced and drew back.  "We ache for that more than you know.  But this is all we have done for so long.  We have no choice."

Twiggy and Tavi were completing a complicated ring of arcane symbols in chalk on the floor.  Savina kept her focus on the woman.

"Honored Mother, you know that – that seasons change, that all things have their time.  New shoots can grow in this place."

"_This_ land does not feel the change of seasons," said the woman.  Her anger seemed to be fading, but now her voice was full of the pain and sorrow caused by the Sovereignty's harsh oppression.

"Already the first breath of spring has come, Honored Mother," Savina said, thinking not only of the buds growing outside, but of the Sovereignty's new policies allowing worship of "the godlings," as Nyoko had called them.

The woman became still in response to Savina's confident assertion.  Savina sensed that Tavi and Twiggy were still, too.  Everything was silent.  The air was thick with magic.  

"Be at peace, Honored Mother," Savina prayed.  "Lady Alirria, let your daughters be at peace."  

The woman's shape wavered, weakened by the magic.  She bowed her head and murmured, "I pray that you are right."  Then she looked up sharply and suspiciously one last time, and added, "Remember us when they come again."

"May Alirria defend us all from such a fate," answered Savina.  "Please – be at peace."

The woman sighed.  The whole room sighed with a sound like spring showers sheeting across fields as the woman shimmered into nothingness, and Savina felt the sorrow and anger ebb away like a rapid tide.  There was a clattering as something fell out of the air to land right in front of her:  an Alirrian holy symbol.  She picked it up carefully and felt a faint residual anger within it, a distant cry for vengeance.  Beyond the tiny symbol, however, the room felt empty.  The spirits that had guarded it for so long were gone.

### 

Twiggy sat back on her heels, feeling the magical tension in the room dissipate as the spirit of the priestess vanished and she, Tavi, and Savina relaxed their concentration.  For the first time, she allowed herself to focus on what a difficult challenge she had just accomplished:  the magic involved was highly advanced, but she and Tavi had pulled it off.

_Correction_, she thought.  _*I* pulled it off and Tavi *helped*.  I led the chant.  I outlined the ring and filled in the compass points._  She'd learned the theory at the Academy, of course, but now she had put it into practice when the stakes were high, and better yet … _I'm not sure they could have done this without me._  For Twiggy, who, back home, was used to feeling either slightly overlooked or vaguely problematic, it was a delicious feeling.  _They needed me.  And not just to help Rose lace up her dress.  They needed me for something big._

Savina stood up and smiled at Tavi.  "Thank you, Tavi," she said.

_And what am I?_ Twiggy thought.  _Chopped liver?_

"Thank you, Chelesta," added Savina.

"I'm happy to have been of aid," answered Twiggy politely.  

### 

Mena picked a route among the corpses in the barracks room near the front entrance to the derro warren, forcing herself to look at the carnage she'd helped cause earlier in the night.  It was necessary to look, to be aware, to endure the knowledge of having killed.  Otherwise, killing might become painless … _and if that happens, She wins_.

Ahead of Mena, who was bringing up the rear, most of the others in the group were trying _not_ to look.  Twiggy looked slightly dazed, and Savina practically had her eyes closed.  Mena could allow that, for now.  For most of them, it was their first time.

They were almost back to their starting point.  After Tavi, Twiggy, and Savina had reported success at laying the Alirrian spirits to rest and opening up the back door, the group had set off back through the warren's tunnels to seek Mirtal.  They were able to travel fast because they had left the family of dwarves at the small side tunnel that, according to Nyoko, ran many miles through the mountains to the main derro warren.  The dwarves were hard at work using all their stonecraft to block the tunnel and delay the reinforcements the derro were surely sending.  

As she made her way down the last corridor and emerged into the entrance chamber – the room where they had fought a few derro guards and dodged bolts of electricity from the eerie green moss – Mena nearly ran into Arden.  The woman had paused and was staring up the original entrance tunnel to the unmistakable daylight filtering down from above.  

"I still hate this place," Mena murmured to Arden.

Arden answered, softly, "I was just thinking … you're all going to lead me from entrance to entrance for the rest of my life, but I'm never going to get _out_."

"Kindly don't joke about it," answered Mena.  "I wouldn't put anything past the Bitch."

"Dame Mena, may I tell you how I feel about this place?  Just for the record?"

"Do."

"I _hate_ it."

"Slave!" called Kormick.  "If you don't open this door and get eaten alive by whatever the derro are keeping in their kitchen, who will?"

Mena bristled on Arden's behalf, but Arden was unperturbed.  She crossed quickly to the door opposite the entrance – the door they'd briefly opened but never passed through.

As she had at the beginning, Arden opened it silently and peered in.  A tunnel sloped down into darkness.  At a nod from Kormick, Arden vanished into the darkness beyond.  Kormick followed on her heels, and the rest of them came after that, Mena once more at the back, willing her armor not to make too much noise.

"This place looks familiar," muttered Kormick, as they reached the bottom of the tunnel and peered into a vast, dark cavern.  In the faint light from a few patches of moss, they could make out huge, twisted shapes:  grotesque mushrooms taller than a man, some looming and bulbous, some adorned with strange, moist frills.  The smell of fungi hung in the air.  It was the room Kormick had reported seeing when they'd lowered him from one of the pits upstairs, and indeed, in the ceiling, Mena could make out two dim gaps:  the two pits between which they'd fought a pitched battle.  She remembered, uneasily, the screams of a derro which had fallen down here during the fight.  Terrible screams.  _How impractical does a race of creatures have to be to put its kitchen down here?_ she wondered irritably.

Arden and Kormick started forward, sticking to the left wall, easing their way past the nearest mushrooms.  The fungi grew right up against the stone, so that Arden had to flatten her body to slip past one, while Kormick went around its trunk on the other side, stepping between it and the next mushroom with surprising grace.  Nyoko leaped through the narrow gap like a dancer.

Twiggy still seemed preoccupied – Mena recognized the signs of her student being lost in thought, processing new experiences – and stumbled as she made her way through the narrow gap.  She brushed against one of the mushrooms.  It twitched spasmodically and suddenly a cloud of spores enveloped Twiggy.  The half-elf girl was almost lost to sight, and when the spores cleared, she was lying on the ground, frighteningly still.

Tavi, Mena, and Savina all started to rush forward to help her, but Kormick got there first and raised a hand to them.  "No sudden movements, I think," he whispered.  "Wouldn't want to disturb these monstrosities."  Carefully avoiding contact with the mushrooms, he picked up Twiggy in his arms.  "She's just asleep," he told them.  Mena breathed a sigh of relief.  She put a guiding hand on Rose's back and moved forward with Tavi and Savina.  

Which one of them touched a mushroom she was never sure, but suddenly the air was black and foul.  She braced herself for a wave of unnatural sleepiness, but that didn't happen.  Instead, she simply couldn't see.  The spores had blinded her.


----------



## coyote6

That's got to be the World's Most Dangerous Larder.


----------



## Ilex

*8x07*

"Help me!" came Savina's voice.  "Tavi?  I can't see anything!"

"Me neither," said Tavi.

Mena waved a hand in front of her own face.  Nothing.  The dark spores were like blinding smoke from a terrible fire … except there was no heat, and the smell was very different.  Unpleasant in its own right, but blessedly different.

"…Mena?" came Rose's tentative voice. 

"Can anyone still see?" demanded Mena.

"I can," said Kormick. 

"And I," chimed in Nyoko.  "You seem to be within a cloud of spores."

"Follow my voice," said Kormick.  "I'll …  hmm … I'll sing a song."

"Do Undians have a strong musical heritage?" Mena heard Nyoko ask.

"We have no need for _heritage_.  We have drinking songs." 

Mena reached out, found Rose, and grabbed her hand.  "Tavi, Savina, walk toward his voice," she said through gritted teeth.  "Hurry."

"What would you prefer?" Kormick continued.  "There's 'The Ballad of Four Fathoms,' but it seems a little formal, yes?  Ah, I know:  'I Lay With You in a Ditch, My Dear.'  Hoo-kay.  Brace yourselves – I am not known for my voice.  We begin."

Tavi, Mena, and Rose burst out of the spore cloud just as Kormick cleared his throat.  He was still holding the sleeping Twiggy in his arms.

"Singing won't be necessary," said Mena dryly. 

Twiggy stirred and opened her eyes, staring up into Kormick's face.  "…singing?" she asked, her voice blurry.

Kormick set her on her feet and caught her arm as she wobbled.  "Careful," he said.  "You've been taking a nap."

"Were you _carrying_ me?"

"Of course."  

"And … singing?"

"Well, the others were blinded, you see."

Twiggy looked around somewhat desperately for Mena, questing for a sane explanation.

"I'll explain later," Mena told her, unable to find sanity in anything just then.  "Just keep moving."

Gingerly, moving far more slowly than Mena would normally have liked—_couldn't they just run, run straight through and out into the white hot light and the, gods bless it, open space of the Ketkath_—they made their way past many more mushrooms.  Finally, a door appeared in the wall on the left.  They opened it and discovered a shadowy, warm room, lit by a large, crude stove and lined on the walls with rough shelves.  It was the kitchen, and in the corner, a rotund dwarf was sitting on a stool, tied hand and foot, his mouth stuffed with a big piece of mushroom.

Kormick made short work of the ropes and the gag. 

"Mirtal, I presume?" Tavi asked, in Dwarven.

"Thank the gods," rasped the dwarf, his mouth dry.  "Where are the others?  Where's – ?"

"Lord Rockminder gave his life, but his family survives," said Tavi. 

"Ordren is very eager to see you," added Savina, and Mirtal's face, which had grown grim at the news of the patriarch's death, softened a little. 

"Well," he said softly.  "Provisions, yes?  And then we must be off.  I've been eying those dried mushrooms on the far wall… they almost look like what we have at home…"  He scurried around the room, muttering to himself, until he'd gathered a hefty supply of (hopefully) edible food. 

"We need to go," said Mena.  _Now.  Now now now_.

They walked back into the vast chamber and began to make their way back through the mushrooms.

 "I've driven myself half-mad, wondering what possible reason the derro had for putting their kitchen in such an inhospitable place," murmured Mirtal.

"Because nothing in this place makes any blasted sense at all," said Mena.  Her calm was slipping and she knew it.  _Pull it together, Defier_.  Sedellus made good use of internal chaos...and this was no time to give her any more power than she had already.

"My conclusion exactly," agreed Mirtal.  Mena liked him.

By moving excruciatingly slowly, they could slip past each mushroom without touching it, but the creeping pace was unsustainable:  Mena kept remembering the scream of the derro that had fallen down here … and the words of the derro she had interrogated, who had mentioned "pets" in the kitchen. 

She was thus not very surprised when something rustled out in the middle of the room.  And rustled again, closer. 

Everyone froze.  Then Tavi picked up a rock and threw it, hard, toward the sound.  He hit a mushroom, and black ichor came oozing out of it. 

Something near that mushroom growled, and Mena glimpsed a gleam of eyes, low to the ground.  _Pets._ 

"They have these dog-sized lizards…" suggested Mirtal uneasily.   

"We've met them.  Let's move faster," said Mena, keeping her voice steady, even though she wanted nothing more than to scream and run as fast as she could.  "Stick close to me, Rose.  Right in front of me."

Nyoko twirled and leaped through the narrow gaps between the mushrooms until she reached the entrance.  There, she took out her bow, laid an arrow on the string, and waited.  Mirtal followed close behind her, his profound desire to leave the kitchen behind giving him un-dwarf-like grace.  Kormick paused near Mena at the back, letting her and Rose move past him as he took out his crossbow and scanned the darkness, covering their retreat.

But as the rest of the group hurried forward, their luck worsened.  Savina brushed against a mushroom that immediately oozed black ichor from pores all over its skin.  The girl staggered a few steps, wavering, and then sat down, hard.

Arden was right behind her and knelt to help her up.  "Blessed Daughter?" she asked.

"I think – it's – poison, I think – I – " Savina struggled to stand up, but it was clear she was in trouble.  Arden got her arm around the girl and attempted to raise her.  "We have to move, Blessed Daughter," she said.  "Please stand up."

There was another growl, closer, and Twiggy jumped.  In jumping, she touched the same mushroom Savina had.  "Oh – oh no," she said, hugging herself.  "I don't feel well."

Arden succeeded in getting Savina to her feet.  Briefly.  Then Savina went limp against her, pushing Arden off-balance.  They both fell against another mushroom.  A mist of spores burst into the air.  Twiggy, still under the influence of the poison, stumbled into the cloud as well.  When the spores cleared, Twiggy, Arden, and Savina were all asleep. Mena groaned in frustration. 

"Tavi – " she said, but he was already on his way.  Mena winced as his sleeve lightly brushed the poison mushroom, but after pausing for an instant, one hand to his forehead, he seemed to shake off its effect.  Two more steps and he knelt to gather Savina in his arms. 

"Kormick," Mena said.  "We need your help up here."  She wanted to help Twiggy and Arden, but her first priority had to be Rose.  Kormick hurried up beside her, still impressing her with his ability to be light on his feet when he needed to be.  He slung his crossbow over his shoulder and picked up Twiggy, just as he had on the way in. 

"Your lady in waiting is forgetting her place," he told Rose, "if she thinks she deserves to be carried everywhere like an Ebisite princess."

"I'll have a talk with her," said Rose with a wry smile.

"This way," Mena told Rose.  "Watch your feet.  Follow Kormick."  

There were at least three lizard-dogs in their wake, Mena thought.  Three sounds of scuffling, three slightly different growls.  The animals were stalking them through the mushrooms, taking their time, toying with them.  _Or perhaps they have to move carefully among this cursed fungi, too_, Mena thought, and prayed that it was so.  Regardless, the growls were close now.

"Wake up, Arden," Mena said sharply, as she guided Rose past the sleeping slave.  She looked down just in time to see Arden's dazed eyes drift open.

Up ahead, Kormick cursed as Twiggy's foot brushed a final mushroom and he was enveloped in the blinding spores. 

"We don't stop!" he announced from within the dark cloud, and seconds later he appeared on the other side. 

"You heard him," Mena told Rose, and, holding Rose's hand, she plunged into the cloud.  For the briefest moment, the scent of ash seared her lungs.  _Ridiculous_.  She'd been through worse than this dungeon, fought through fire and blood and death and never flinched. _I still have work to do_.  Walking with purpose, she led Rose straight through, and smelled no more smoke.

Something growled just to the left of her, very close. 

She and Rose burst out of the cloud and ran for the entrance.  Kormick had set down Twiggy and joined Nyoko in covering their retreat. 

"Arden!" Mena called, whirling around to come face-to-face with Arden, who was following right on her heel.  Together, Mena, Arden, and Rose dove behind Kormick and Nyoko just as the lizard-dogs finally broke cover, howling.

Kormick and Nyoko opened fire.  A bolt from Kormick's crossbow sent one lizard-dog tumbling backwards, whining. 

Mena waited to see no more.

"Up the tunnel!" she ordered.  "Come on, Twiggy," she said, taking the groggy girl's hand.  Rose ran beside Tavi, who was still carrying Savina. 

Everyone raced up the slope and back out into the entryway.  Kormick sent a few more crossbow bolts down into the darkness for good measure, and then Arden slammed the door shut. Mena counted faces as fast as she could think.

They had escaped the kitchen. 

As they slumped, exhausted, in the entryway, Mena saw that they truly couldn't take much more.  Every time she thought their group had reached its limit in this hellish place, they'd found deeper reserves, but this time Kormick couldn't seem to muster the energy to be glib … Arden's hand was trembling from injury and exhaustion as she offered water to Savina … the young healer could barely shake off the poison in her own blood, let alone help the others … and there was a terrible weariness in Tavi's normally alert, eager eyes. 

"Take a few moments," Mena said.  "Catch your breath.  Watch your backs.  Our pack-mule should still be where we left him when we arrived.  I'll go outside and get him." 

"I'll go, Dame Mena," said Arden.  "I know where he is."

"I'll find him, Arden.  Sit and rest."  Mena saw Arden's eyes dart to the sunlight streaming down the entrance tunnel.  She understood:  Arden wanted to feel the light on her face.  "The sooner I get back, the sooner we can all get out, and I'm in better shape to move quickly," Mena added.

Arden nodded understanding, slumped back against the wall, and closed her eyes.

Mena walked up the entrance tunnel and stepped into Ehkt's sunlight.  She slitted her eyes and didn’t allow herself even a moment to bask – there would be time for that soon enough, she hoped.  Instead, she strode in among the trees where Arden had led the mule at midnight, not so many hours ago.

The mule was tethered to a tree, munching complacently on the last tuft of coarse grass within its reach.  Arden hadn't bothered to unload their supplies from its back, but the creature didn't seem to mind, and the packs of food and bedding seemed intact.  Mena untied the mule and tugged it forward through the trees.  It followed haltingly, and when it got to the crevice in the rock it balked. 

"Come _on_," Mena told it, tugging the rope. 

It wouldn't budge.  Mena could see the whites of its eyes as it tossed its head.  It was afraid of the tunnel.  Mena caught its halter and pulled its head so she could stare into its eyes.  She gave it her most intimidating glare. 

"Come with me obediently," she said, "or face the wilds of the Ketkath alone.  Trust me, your life will last longer if you obey." 

 The mule planted all four feet and would not move an inch.  Mena sighed in irritation.  Still holding its halter in one hand, she loosened the straps holding its load with the other.

"You wretched creature," she told it.  "Go and live the life that you – "

 The packs slid to the ground and the mule, startled, kicked Mena in the shin. 

"Arg!  Go, you ungrateful traitor!" She flung down the halter rope and the mule clattered away down the mountain's slope.  She couldn't imagine it would survive more than a day.

Suddenly, the darkness of the dungeons, and of the things she'd done in them, faded away for a moment as Mena thought to herself, _I just tried to bully a mule_.  And of all the unexpected things in all the world, she laughed until her sore ribs ached with the effort.  _Still alive, then.  And still more work to be done_.

Mena shouldered the packs and lugged them back down into the darkness. 

### 

Arden had been fond of the mule.  Not only did he make her job easier, but also his purchase represented the first time the group had trusted her.  She was sorry to lose the creature, and sorry for the extra weight on her back.

She was grateful to Mena, though, who'd briskly divided the load among everyone equally, not pausing to give anyone time to suggest that carrying the mule's former burden was the slave's job.  _To be fair, though_, Arden found herself reconsidering, _they might not have made me carry everything even without Mena's influence.  They're decent that way._  Strange thought.

They were trekking once more back through the dark tunnels, and as they went, it was impossible not to confront the events and emotions she'd experienced in each hallway, each chamber.  Most were hellish.  A few were not – another strange thought.  _Here's where I had to kill my first derro._  Blood had covered her hand, and even now it was imperfectly washed off.  _Here's where the derro nearly killed me_  -- she remembered the blade passing through her flesh, almost painless going in, searing on the way out—_but Mena saved me.  Here's where I joked at Kormick._

Halfway down the long inner crevice leading to the Alirrian portions of the warren, they came upon all the dwarves, who had just finished sealing the side tunnel with a neat rockfall.  

"Mirtal!" Ordren cried as they arrived.  He raced up, his injuries forgotten, to embrace the cook.  Arden needed no translation to follow the emotional turns of their greeting:  Mirtal spoke happily but briefly.  Ordren demanded something, teasing laughter in his voice.  Mirtal grew solemn, gripped Ordren's hand, and the two looked a long time into one another's eyes. 

"It should take the derro reinforcements several hours, at least, to dig through that roadblock," announced Sertani proudly (Tavi translated her words).  "And that's assuming that they work with the skill of dwarves, which they will not."

"They will have numbers on their side, however," said Nyoko.

They hurried onward.  _There's where Tavi battled Lurx while I freed the dwarves, and … here's where the undead fought us to defend their chapel, and … _ 

They guided the children carefully down the crypt-hallway full of Alirrian corpses and finally emerged into the last room, the room with the Alirrian symbol on the floor.  

"It's safe now," said Savina, as everyone pressed up close to its edge.  She quickly walked over the symbol to the other side.  "See?  Nothing happens."

"Easy for you to say," muttered Kormick.

"If I might suggest, Justicar," said Arden, "send the slave first."  She stepped onto the symbol and walked across it.  Reaching the other side, she turned back and called, "No bloody death!"  

She caught sight of Kormick smiling before the whole group surged onto the symbol.  

Not waiting for the Blessed Daughter's permission, Arden seized her chance and darted up the stairs ahead of the crowd.

She felt the light grow warmer and warmer on her face, and she ran out onto a rocky ledge into the daylight.  Ahead of her, the forest fell away and the mountains rose up.  A breeze touched her cheek.  Blinded by the daylight and not caring, Arden dropped to her knees, bent forward, and kissed the ground.  She was out.


----------



## Ilex

...and with that, we conclude the adventure of the derro warrens.  We began this chronicle in the story hour back on August 6 ... and the last extended rest the party had took place during the update posted on _July 23_ ... so if we seem a wee bit tired and punchy, you know why.


----------



## Jenber

Ilex said:


> ...and with that, we conclude the adventure of the derro warrens.  We began this chronicle in the story hour back on August 6 ... and the last extended rest the party had took place during the update posted on _July 23_ ... so if we seem a wee bit tired and punchy, you know why.




Yes.  Not only were the _characters_ punchy (and every last one of them either bloodied or nearly bloodied, I believe, and one more monster away from a TPK), but some of the _players_ were beginning to get a little hysterical in small spaces.


----------



## coyote6

How many actual game sessions did it take?

So how did the Cavern the 'Shrooms work? A skill challenge where each failure triggered some nasty trap?


----------



## Fajitas

coyote6 said:


> How many actual game sessions did it take?
> 
> So how did the Cavern the 'Shrooms work? A skill challenge where each failure triggered some nasty trap?




The 'Shroom Room was pretty improvised.  I based this off a published module, the first in the Scales of War Adventure Path.  The room was written as combat with the lizards, with mushrooms that had a random effect if they were touched.

However, it was pretty clear to me that a) the players wouldn't stand for another fight, and b) the characters might not survive another fight, so I turned it into a skill challenge where, as you surmise, each failure meant a tagged 'shroom. Failure on the skill challenge meant fighting the lizards (several of the failures that incurred 'shroom effects were failures on secondary rolls made to help those who failed a primary roll; these secondary failures did not count against the total number of failures).

All told, it was, I believe, five sessions of pretty much non-stop combat.  Sadly, my notes do not cover what the healing surge totals were at the end of the slog, but at the start of the final session (before the zombie fight), the party's totals were:

Nyoko: 1/7
Arden: 1/5 (she was at zero for most of the adventure; the 1 was restored by the Alirrian pool)
Mena: 0/8
Tavi: 0/10 (used a *lot* during the fight with Lurx)
Kormick: 2/7 (he definitely lost those during the zombie fight)
Savina: 4/8
Twiggy: 5/7 (it's good to be back-line artillery...)

And that's *after* I handed them about a dozen additional healing surges.  It was pretty grueling, but a fascinating experiment from my end on what 4th Ed can handle.

Coming up, things get *truly* unpleasant...


----------



## coyote6

Fajitas said:


> Coming up, things get *truly* unpleasant...




Good to see the soft, easy-going, happy-go-lucky thing was just temporary!


----------



## ellinor

*9x01*

The stairway led up from the darkness of the Alirrian tomb into the blinding light of noon.  Twiggy blinked as the sun and wind hit her face.  She had expected to feel relief at coming into daylight, but she hadn’t realized how much she craved fresh air and an escape from the stale stink of those caves.  She shuddered.  _The stink of death.  Death that I helped make._  She shivered as she realized it was Sedellus’ wind clearing the stink away. _Sedellus, goddess of change,_ she tried to remind herself. _Not just evil . . . change, too._

Whoever’s wind it is, at least it feels clean, thought Acorn, venturing from Twiggy’s pocket for a long quaff of breath.  

_Maybe it is, Acorn_ Twiggy replied, _but I’m not sure I want it to._

Acorn squirmed.  You’re not making sense, Chelesta.  Are you lightheaded from holding your breath, like me?

Twiggy climbed out of the opening on to the wide ledge and looked back at what had once been the majestic façade of the Alirrian monastery, now cracked and overgrown.  _At least the plants have grown over it,_ she thought.  _Plants always grow over ruins.  That in itself is a testament to Alirria’s strength._  Somehow it didn’t help.

As the others emerged, Twiggy looked around the ragged group.  It had more than doubled in size from their small band of seven to a veritable village of 24. And it put the lie to the concept of “strength in numbers”:  Although they had gained the Sovereign Nyoko, who seemed to be able to take care of herself, they had also gained 4 infants and young children; two young men who had been beaten to a pulp; a woman too scared to speak; and four older dwarves who were pitifully weak from weeks under the whip.  If they had been strong, they certainly weren’t anymore.  And the two pregnant dwarves were certainly fierce, but they were also slow.  Considering the distance to the main derro warren and the dwarves’ work blocking the tunnel, the best guess was that they only had about a 10-hour head start.  With this group, even if they kept pushing ahead, the derro would eventually catch up with them.

Anyway, pushing ahead wasn’t an option.  They had only been in the caves for one night, but it had felt like weeks without sleep.  Their first task was rest, and whatever came next . . . was whatever came next.  One by one, they all collapsed, exhausted, on to the soft ground. 

“Where will you go?” Savina asked Sertani, when all had settled and the young children and old men had fallen asleep.

“I have discussed it with my son and sister-wives,” Sertani replied. “In our condition, we will not make it back to our holdings in the South.  We will head first to allies Northwest of here.  It is relatively easy travel, once we get out of the mountains, and there we can regain our strength.”  She tilted her head toward Corani, whose chin was resting on her pregnant belly as she nodded off to sleep. “We have our future to consider.”  

“We can stay with you until we reach the main road,” Savina offered, “and share our food and supplies, if you would find it helpful . . .”

Twiggy suppressed a chuckle as Kormick and Mena looked at each other behind Savina’s back.  Kormick rolled his eyes as if to say “this girl will be the end of us,” but smiled as if to say “and don’t we love her for it.”

“. . . you have lost so much already,” Savina continued.  “If there is anything more we can do . . .”

“Thank you,” Sertani replied, softly, before sitting up and shoving her shoulders back, proudly.  “Until we reach the main road, then.”

“And now, as we say in Dar Und, it is time to trade nightmares for nightmares,” Kormick announced, yawning and stretching his arms over his head in the universal gesture for “I don’t give a damn what the rest of you do with your afternoon, but I’m going to sleep now.”

“I will keep first watch,” suggested Mena.  

Twiggy thought about sleep.  It was a good idea, she knew—but the idea of sleeping sickened her.  _How could I close my eyes on what I saw last night,_ she asked herself, _without seeing it over and over again in my mind?_ 

“Me too,” Twiggy offered.  Mena was not the most comforting presence in the world, but Mama Rossi was a world away, and anyway, Mama Rossi was nowhere near as qualified as Mena to address the horrors of battle. No one joined the Defiers of the Wind without having a serious trauma, and the scars on Mena’s hand bespoke something far worse than misfortune.  Mena never talked about what she did before coming to tutor Rose—she had been firm but vague every time Twiggy had asked—but it must have been dramatic.  Mena had been so young when she came to the Estate.  Sixteen, at most—if she had even reached the age of majority.  And by that time, she had already had, and ended, a career with the Keepers of the Flame.  Yes, Twiggy thought, Mena was very well qualified to counsel in this situation.

After everyone else was asleep, Twiggy broached the topic.  “Does it ever get easier?”

“No.”  Mena paused before continuing.  “And it never should.  The minute it becomes an easy choice to take a life, the minute there's no feeling of loss every time you kill, that is when you begin to lose sight of whether you are fighting against Sedellus or for her.  It's one of the Dark Bitch's cruelest jokes that those who wish only to do good are sometimes forced to darker deeds in order to prevent a greater evil.  And for that reason, the pain, the memories, even the nightmares while they last, all that is a tool you can use to remind yourself why you choose a kinder path whenever possible.”

“While the nightmares last . . .” Twiggy mused, “does that mean this will feel better?”

“Better?”  Mena sighed.  “No.  But it does get more familiar.  You know how you like to know the reasons for things?  You will be able to focus on the reasons.  Someday—maybe soon—you will be able to sleep without nightmares.  You will know that what you did was necessary.  Moments like these will become part of your past.”

“Like your past?”  

“I hope not.”

This was one of those answers, vague but firm, that meant _don’t pry._  Twiggy pondered for a moment. "When you swore you were telling the truth to Zirkai, in there, you said your ancestors were the di Rossini family of Pol Henna.”

“Yes.”

“And . . . are they?”

“Yes.”

“But there isn’t a di Rossini family.  Not in Pol Henna.”

“No.”  

Mena looked sad, like her mind was far away.  Twiggy thought Mena’s past seemed like the Ketkath—full of dangerous unknowns and things one would probably rather not know about.  Twiggy still wanted to know.  

They sat together for a while, chatting, watching the sun creep across the sky.  It helped a little.

###

When Nyoko woke, night was falling, and the heathens were discussing what they would do next.  She picked up her new bow and began to make small adjustments.  Handling a bow was automatic, and it made her look busy so she could listen.  

“Let us assume that at our top speed, it is five days’ trek to the spring, and that we have a ten-hour lead,” said Mena.  “If we push ourselves, we can stay ahead of the derro.  But we cannot move at top speed—the dwarves cannot keep that pace.  We will also need to forage for food.  We have more mouths to feed now.  And we will not be able to obscure our path—there are too many of us.  We should move as soon as possible.”

“Is it safe to bring her?”  Twiggy asked, motioning over her shoulder to Nyoko.  Nyoko found a small blackroot plant and craned her ears to hear as she chewed on its stem.  

“I believe it is,” replied the Justicar.  “As we were standing watch today, she told me a joke—‘How many Inquisitors does it take to kindle a torch?’”  He paused as the group stared at him, blankly.  “…‘Is this a cover for the worship of Ekht?’”  Kormick chortled a bit, apparently to himself.  “It is funny, no?”

Blank stares.  _Well, at least *one of them* has a good sense of humor,_ Nyoko thought.  _Even if he is a very strange sort of Justicar._

“Regardless,” said Tavi, “I do not think we could leave her if we wanted to.”  That seemed to be Nyoko’s cue.  She slung the bow over her shoulder and strolled over to the group.  

“We have a dangerous journey ahead,” Mena announced, addressing Nyoko, “but you are welcome to travel with us.”  

“Any journey through the Ketkath is a dangerous one,” Nyoko replied, “and I am in your debt.  But I am ill-served in ignorance.  Is your journey more dangerous than any other?”

The Justicar smiled.  "Well, it's nothing, really, just that a decade and a half ago a girl made a crazy deal with Sedellus, and now this young lady"—he gestured toward Rose with his thumb—"is being chased across the Ketkath by the Goddess of Evil.  But nothing to worry about."

_Perhaps I spoke too soon about the sense of humor,_ Nyoko thought.  

“We will not be taking the most direct route to Cauldron,” added Kormick.  “Will you be missed there if you come with us?”

Nyoko considered the hazards of the Ketkath for a woman traveling alone.  “If I do not come with you, I think it’s fair to say that I will _certainly_ be missed in Cauldron.”

“Then it is settled,” said Mena.


----------



## spyscribe

ellinor said:
			
		

> The Justicar smiled. "Well, it's nothing, really, just that a decade and a half ago a girl made a crazy deal with Sedellus, and now this young lady"—he gestured toward Rose with his thumb—"is being chased across the Ketkath by the Goddess of Evil. But nothing to worry about."




I do not think I will ever get over my inner amusement with the double-think required when another player has to explain to Nyoko what Lira did in the old campaign.  I love it.

For the record, Nyoko has a whole repertoire of torch-lighting jokes.  They are _hilarious_.


----------



## ellinor

*9x02*

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Thurran awoke without chains on his ankles.  There was a familiar smell in the air—not the stench of the tunnels, but something else.  Something comforting.  He sat up and rubbed his eyes.  He was surrounded by family.  His mother was nearby, tending to his kin-mother, Jalissi.  Ah, that was the smell:  Mirtal was cooking, standing over a pot, stirring furiously.  

Thurran felt the cold of the small stone that now hung around his neck.  “You are Lord Rockminder, now,” his mother had said.  It was too much to take in.  One moment, his family was in a caravan.  The next, there were derro, and whips, and dust, and zombies, and his kin-mother crying, and that amazing human with the warhammers . . . and not his father.  He missed his father—his strong, gentle hands; his funny gray hair; his thoughtful authority.  Now Thurran would have to make decisions. He didn’t even know what decisions he’d have to make.

He watched the bustle of the camp.  A few steps away, the red-haired human, Arden, brought food to the older dwarves, but they bowed to her and refused.  She didn't seem to understand:  she tried again to hand them the bowls of food.  They shook their heads politely, still bowing before her.  She said pleading words in her language:  “eet, eet.” When they bowed once more, she opened her mouth as if she was going to say something else, but no words came out.  A tear slid down her cheek.  She wiped it away quickly, as if she didn't want anyone to know she was sad.

The human healer, Savina, saw her anyway.  “What have you done to upset Arden?”  she asked the dwarves.  

Thurran answered.  “She saved their lives.  They must honor her, and cannot eat until she does.”

“It is my job to take care of her,” Savina replied, “not theirs.  But she may eat _with_  them.”  

Savina went over and said words to Arden.  Arden still seemed sad, but she nodded to the healer, took one bite of food herself, and then waited to have any more until the dwarves began eating.  

Thurran followed Kormick around the camp, mimicking his movements.  If he wasn’t going to have a father, at least there was this man.  Sometimes, the man would try to talk to him, and he would try to talk to the man, but they didn’t understand each other.

Eventually, Kormick called Mena over.  He kneeled in front of Thurran and, with Mena translating, said, “You know, I’m not just a strikingly handsome fighter and skilled woodland guide.  I’m also an envoy of the King of Dar Und.”

Thurran’s eyes widened.  A king!

“I would like to offer a treaty of friendship between Dar Und and the Rockminder clan.”  He held out one of his warhammers.  “That means that if someone from Dar Und asks a Rockminder for help, you’ll help, and we’ll help the Rockminders if they need it.”

This was the most exciting thing in the world.  “I pledge my clan to you!”  Thurran squealed.

“An agreement between my King and you is sufficient,” the man replied. He handed the warhammer to Thurran.  It was half the boy’s height.  “I will use this in my left hand,” he said, brandishing a derro battle axe, “and you keep that hammer.  I would advise you to study its uses with your kin-mother Corani.  She is very . . .” (here Mena paused in her translation) “. . . brave.”  _I have to remember the human word for “brave,”_ Thurran thought. _“ah-nor-ably mur-dur-us.”_ 

Thurran’s cheeks ached from grinning.

“We should be off,” Mena said.  “We have hard travel before us and angry derro behind us.”

One by one, the humans picked up their packs.  Mirtal quenched the fire.  And Kormick, together with one of the human women, led the way into the dark of the forest.

_DM’s Note:  Travel mechanics were handled as an Obsidian style skill challenge.  More info will be provided in a post below._

###

Arden watched the four dwarven men she had saved, Romek, Vorret, Bronst, and Pulan, as they stumbled into a clearing to make camp.  The group had walked hard all night and most of the day, and everyone was tired.  It was clear that the four of them, especially, had made it this far by force of will alone.

For the second night in a row, Mirtal cooked.  “I thought it best to give him something to do,” Savina said of the dwarf.  

Arden made herself useful, too, stirring when Mirtal gestured for her to stir and helping him serve the crowd sitting around the fire.  As they had yesterday, Romek and his companions waited to eat until she did.  Their bowed heads continued to disturb her.  If only she could speak to them, she could discern for herself how they truly felt about her – and how she should feel about them.  

At first, she had worried most that they were treating her with fearful subservience beaten into them by the derro.  Last night, however, the Blessed Daughter had told her that the four were simply thanking her according to their customs, and Mena had reassured her that she would do more injury to their pride by rejecting their gratitude than by accepting it.  It still felt wrong… _but if I respect the dwarves, and if this is their code_, she told herself, _then I should abide by it._  She sat down with her dinner self-consciously, nodded to Vorret, and took a bite.  He nodded back and the dwarves began to eat.

But she was still worried. _Has anyone even told them I'm a slave?  What if they don't know, and when they find out, they're disgusted that they've honored me?  And what if the Blessed Daughter decides I’m putting on airs?  And … what if I've freed them from one enslavement only to force them into another, with me as their new mistress?  Gods, why can't we just talk?_ 

After dinner, Mena approached her.  “The former slaves are exhausted.  Do you think there is any way we can keep their spirits up?  We cannot risk losing them, but if we slow our pace any more, we risk losing everyone.”

Arden looked down as she considered how low their spirits must be.  They had gone from being driven by Lurx’s henchmen to being driven by a group of crazy humans.  _One enslavement to the next_, she thought again.  “I’ve been where they are,” she replied.  "And there's no easy answer."  

_No easy answer… but… if we could just *talk*_.

“No one will be left behind,” stressed Mena.

"No," Arden agreed.  Whatever it took, she was not leaving these men behind.  "I wish I could speak to them."

 “You can speak to them through me, if you wish,” offered Mena.

“Just . . . I thank them.”  She would keep Mena's offer in mind – but first, she had to think.

###

After two days of hard marching, Twiggy needed a rest.  She hadn’t slept well since they emerged from the derro cave, and their trek required an immense amount of concentration.  The trail from the Alirrian monastery to the spring might have been clear at one time, but it was overgrown and obscured now.  And although Kormick was, technically, the group’s guide, Twiggy had learned all about plants from her father, and her half-elf instincts made her as good at tracking in nature as Kormick was at maneuvering in urban settings.  In this foreign environment, both of their skills were taxed to their limits.  For Twiggy’s part, the process was a combination of instinct and analysis:  extrapolating from what she knew of familiar plants, and applying it to the strange flora of the Ketkath.  Which shoots were new; which branches showed signs of exposure to the elements; which mosses might have grown on fresh soil so many years ago.  Keeping the pace up meant guessing sometimes.  Twiggy didn’t like guessing.  She squinted at the faintest of signs and motioned the group forward.

The hard-driving pace had taken its toll on several of the others, as well—Nyoko and Tavi were each looking a bit ragged, having had very little time to recover from their ordeals in the cave, and as for the dwarves who had been enslaved, Twiggy imagined that the only thing keeping them on their feet was Mena’s constant patter of heroic tales from Dwarven history, inspiring them on.  

It was a relief when the group decided to spend part of the third day resting and foraging for food. 

As they prepared their camp for the night, Savina made an announcement.  “It is time to prepare for Alirria Ascendant.” 

Twiggy thought for a moment.  Savina was right—Alirria Ascendant, a day of peace, fasting, meditation, and contemplation to celebrate Alirria’s life-giving nature, which fell on April 15, would occur in just a few days.  

Savina continued.  “I intend to begin preparatory rituals tomorrow.  Will anyone join me?”

Twiggy was reassured by the blank stares and quizzical looks on the other faces.  It wasn’t just her.  “Pardon my ignorance, Savina.  What is involved in the preparatory rituals for Alirria Ascendant?”

“There are special prayers and bathing, at dawn.”

Twiggy heard Acorn’s voice in her head.  Bathing!  Do it do it do it DO IT!

“It would seem,” said Twiggy, “that following Alirrian tradition for Alirria Ascendant would qualify as ‘following Alirria’s path.’  We still need to do that if we are going to find the Spring, if the Honored Mother was correct.”

“Plus,” Kormick added, elbowing Tavi in the ribs, “maidens in the nude.”

In the morning, the women found a nearby stream to bathe in as Savina said prayers.  Arden walked off a little way, finding a secluded spot downstream before removing her clothing.  Twiggy took the opportunity to pepper Nyoko with questions.

“So . . . tell me more about what Adepts do.”

Nyoko got the same quizzical look she had when Kormick had asked her about Adepts before.  Clearly, Twiggy thought, one thing that Adepts did _not_ do was explain what Adepts did.  In the Sovereignty, Twiggy realized, everyone must already know what Adepts do.  “The answer is different for every Adept,” Nyoko replied, after a little thought.  "We are all trained in a variety of disciplines—music, dancing, oration, martial arts, visual arts, history, archiving, scholarship—and we all serve as witnesses in the justice of Kettenek.  But different Adepts have different specialties.”

“And your specialty is . . .” Twiggy trailed off, questioningly.

“I have not yet chosen one.  But there are certain things I am good at.  I play the flute.  I sing.  I dance.  I am a competent archer.”

Twiggy smiled.  Apparently, Adepts were also trained in understatement.  “So,” Twiggy continued, “you will probably become one of those.”

“Well . . . let us say that I am unlikely to become a composer.”

# # #

While the womenfolk bathed, Tavi and Kormick broke camp and watched the sky.  It was a gray day, and cold for April.   Suddenly, just as the women returned to the camp clearing, Tavi heard a loud squawking noise.  

Above, an ugly winged beast—it looked like the derro lizard-dogs, but with wings—circled their camp.  “Uh, guys—” Tavi began.  But before he could even finish—THWAP.  SHUNK.  As Tavi watched, a stone from Arden’s sling punctured its wing, leaving a hole, and an arrow from Nyoko’s bow pierced its side.  It shrieked.  Out of the corner of his eye, Tavi could see Twiggy casting.

The creature twisted and rolled in the air before swooping down toward the party.  In one fluid motion, it seized the warhammer from Thurran’s back and swooped away toward the trees.  “No!”  cried Thurran, jumping ineffectually after it.

THWAP.  Another stone from Arden’s sling, and the beast fell from the sky, landing at the edge of the clearing.  Kormick ran toward it and cut its head off with the derro battle-axe he had picked up back in the caves.  “Can’t do _that_ with a warhammer,” he announced, swinging the axe theatrically before pulling his old hammer from the beast’s talons and handing it back to Thurran.

“A scout,” mused Tavi.  Mena and Kormick nodded assent.  “Time to move.”  

For the rest of the day, they stayed under cover of forest, following the trail and watching the clouds darken.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

ellinor said:


> "I would advise you to study its uses with your kin-mother Corani.  She is very . . .” (here Mena paused in her translation) “. . . brave.”  _I have to remember the human word for “brave,”_ Thurran thought. _“ah-nor-ably mur-dur-us.”_




This bit was hilarious and awesome.


----------



## Fajitas

As promised, details of the travel skill challenge:

Travel gameplay was handled by way of an [postid=4475187]Obsidian style skill challenge[/post].  This basically involved 3 rounds of rolls, wherein each player got to roll one skill check.  The PCs required 12 successes in those 3 rounds for complete success, 10 or 11 for a partial success; less than 10 constituted a failure.  The DC on the checks increased for each day they traveled without an extended rest (18 on the first day, 19 on the second day, 20 on the third day, etc). 

In addition to these 12 successes, the PCs had to make separate skill checks to keep the Dwarven morale high.  The number of checks required increased each day they traveled without an extended rest (0 on the first day, 2 on the second day, 4 on the third day, etc).

Obsidian rules basically allow any skill that fits the general category of challenge (physical, mental, or social) to be used, provided the player comes up with a good explanation/rationalization of what they're doing.  DMs are encouraged to give bonuses for particularly clever ideas.

After the travel checks, the PCs had to make endurance checks for the rough terrain or lose a healing surge.  Failure or partial success on the main skill challenge cost the PCs time on their lead and imposed a cumulative penalty to this endurance check.

Failure to hit the Dwarven Morale targets resulted in automatic failure of the endurance check on the part of all the dwarves.  Any dwarf with no healing surges who then lost another surge died.

Arden’s four rescued dwarven slaves had only 1 healing surge each.

The PCs did a lot of math planning this one out…


----------



## ellinor

*9x03*

Sorry for the late posting!  But now back to the trek...
_________________

On the 13th, Rose woke before dawn.  She and Whisper watched as the smallest hint of light began to grow from the horizon, but shrank back when it reached the foreboding bank of clouds above.  It was another grey day, and dark, like twilight without the romance.  Rose pulled her cloak around her.  A chill wind cut through its heavy wool and whipped her silvery hair about her face, tossing dust in her eyes.  Wind, but no rain.  _Of course no rain,_ she thought, wryly.  _Rain would be Alirria_.

A lizard flew overhead in the distance.  It was getting harder to evade their patrols.  She wondered if that meant the derro knew where they were.

As her hair lashed about, Rose thought the same thing she had thought nearly every morning:  “Am I doing the right thing?”  When Kormick had said they were being chased across the Ketkath by the Goddess of Evil, Rose knew in the pit of her stomach, he was probably right.  But whether they were doing the right thing was not her question to answer.  

It had been nearly a month since they had left the Estate.  Rose wondered what things must be like back there—her mother must be going crazy.  _Well, crazier than usual._  She wished she could send her mother a reassuring thought.  But she couldn’t send thoughts, and anyway, there weren’t many reassuring ones to send.

She heard Tavi stir.  As he stretched his arms above his head, Phoebe flew around them in figure-eights.  Some things could still make her smile.

# # #

Arden pulled her hood up and pressed forward into the wind.  It was hard going:  bad visibility, uneven ground, sapling branches whipping at her arms…and somewhere behind them, Arden was sure, the derro must be marching, gaining.  She turned to watch Romek and the other dwarves who trudged just behind her.  Their grateful eyes just made it harder.  

Arden let herself move automatically, one foot in front of the other, as her mind wandered back to the previous night.  As she'd been washing dishes and fretting silently over the exhausted dwarves, the Blessed Daughter had apparently noticed her worry.  She had pulled Arden aside, saying “I will take care of you, Arden.  We di Infusinos take care of what's ours."  

Arden’s cheeks burned just remembering.  The Blessed Daughter’s voice had rung with such pride as she said it.  All Arden had managed in reply was a quiet “thank you.”  She knew that the Blessed Daughter had been expecting – and arguably deserved – greater gratitude, but she hadn't been able to make herself show it.  She'd been too humiliated by the girl's intended kindness.  _Why is this so hard?_ she thought now.  _I can deal with abuse, disrespect, neglect… or friendship among equals…but a kind owner?_  Being thankful hurt, and it never got easier. 

Savina didn’t understand, of course: Arden didn’t need the kindness.  _Gods, the warren was bad, but I'm used to that.  It's *Savina* we should be worried about._  That thought gave Arden a flash of inspiration:  she _was_ worried about Savina.  

Arden pushed ahead to where the girl was walking.  She was clutching her cloak around that comical armor, picking her way among roots and swatting at branches.  Yet she, too, looked lost in thought.  "Blessed Daughter?”  Arden had to speak up to be heard over the wind. “Please you, if I may ask, are you all right?"  

"A little tired, Arden, but I – I don't need anything right now.  How are the dwarves?"

"They're survivors, Blessed Daughter.  But about you –  I meant – after everything we've been through.  Are you all right?" Arden looked over, tentatively, to glimpse Savina looking startled.

"I – I guess so," said the girl.  "I mean – I will be..."

The girl’s hesitant words felt like a vindication.  "Blessed Daughter, if I may take a liberty," she said, venturing to look at Savina a little longer, "I worry about you.  It is no easy thing to fall so quickly from happiness into—into something horrible.  It changes you."

"Yes, it does," Savina replied, quietly.  She ducked to avoid a branch.  The two pressed forward to keep up with the others.

"You remind me of me, when I was your age," Arden heard herself say, spontaneously confessing a private thought that she'd been entertaining for some time now.  She hadn't expected to speak it out loud, but suddenly she _wanted_ to counsel Savina;  she wanted to help.  She looked up again, glad that they could form this small connection— 

—and she saw that the Blessed Daughter was insulted.  Very insulted.  _I just told a daughter of the noble house of di Infusino that she reminds me of a slave, didn't I.  Good choice, Arden._

She returned her gaze to the trail beneath her feet and said, "Forgive me, Blessed Daughter.  I forgot myself.  I didn't mean to say – I'm sorry."  She added a tremble to her voice, aiming to stir Savina's sympathy.  Some tricks worked both ways.

"That's all right, Arden.  You don't have to be frightened.  I told you last night I will care for you, and I will."

All the shame came flooding back with Savina’s humiliating kindness.  "Thank you, Blessed Daughter."  Arden pulled her hood up again, wondered if the Blessed Daughter could tell that the blush in her cheeks was not windburn—and if she could, if she would ever understand why.

# # #

They bathed quickly, huddled, at dawn on the 14th.  Their bodies were sore from the long days of hiking.  The wind was stronger now, colder, joined by thunder.  Still no rain.  

Twiggy held her arms close to her chest, hugging the warmth, as she scouted ahead, searching for a path shielded from the wind and the lizards’ eyes.  Behind her, three dwarves were sharing her cloak.  She could hear Kormick providing what she now knew was his version of encouragement.  “See that depression there, under that tree?  We could leave you in that one.  Or that other one.  I want you to know you have options.”  Twiggy was glad that Kormick didn’t speak dwarven.  Perhaps, to them, it just sounded like cheerful patter.

But the four former slaves were exhausted—so exhausted that Twiggy could imagine them taking Kormick up on his offer.  As one of them flagged and finally fell, Arden ran over and knelt beside him.  The other three dwarves swayed on their feet nearby.  Unable to speak their language, Arden looked around desperately.  "Dame Mena!" she called.

Mena hurried over to the little group.  Arden said something low-voiced to her – Twiggy couldn't make it out.  Mena responded with a quizzical look, but nodded, turned to the dwarves, and quietly told them something.  The four dwarves all looked at Arden.  Arden held out her hand to the fallen dwarf and waited.

He reached up, gripped her hand, and rose to his feet. 

_Perhaps she said we’d let them take a shot at Kormick if they kept going,_ Twiggy thought.  Whatever it had been, it had worked: the other dwarves gritted their teeth and, with Arden in their midst, all four pressed on.

It was a long, cold day of trekking through the underbrush.  As they made camp that night, they calculated that if they left soon after dawn, they would still be about four hours ahead of the derro—and a few hours away from the Spring.  

As darkness fell, they didn’t bother to find a clearing.  Tired, freezing, wind-burned, and sore, Twiggy fell grumpily on to her bedroll and—for the first time in days—fell fast asleep. 

# # #

On Alirria Ascendant, Savina rose well before dawn to begin preparations and join Kormick on watch.  First, she checked on the dwarves, who were sleeping fitfully.  Three were shivering intensely.  One was so exhausted that he didn’t even shiver.  She placed her hand on his head and prayed.  There was a blue glow.  He began to shiver, and she adjusted the cloak that was covering him.  She put a small flower on every pillow and woke everyone softly.

The wind was as loud as ever as the group walked down to the stream.  Even the men bathed this time, discreetly separate from the womenfolk. 

As she had on the previous days, Arden turned to find a secluded place in which to bathe.  Savina called to her.  “Arden, please bathe with us today.”

“I will if you ask it, Blessed Daughter,” responded Arden, quietly, but turned her face away and hesitated before disrobing.

“There is no shame in anything Alirria has made, today,” said Savina.  “Nothing to hide.”

Quietly, Arden removed her tunic and approached the water.  Her back was covered with whip scars.  _Alirria,_ Savina thought, _ease the pain she feels from these injuries long healed._

Savina said prayers of grace and thanks, and asked for Alirria’s blessing on their quest on this most holy of days.  It was fitting, Savina thought, that they would probably reach the Spring on this day.  She prayed that the party would be able to honor the traditions of the day, and avoid killing or eating.  It was unlikely, she feared, to be a quiet day of contemplation.

Savina planted a few apple seeds that she had been saving for this occasion, and waited for the sun to crest the cloud-darkened horizon.  It never did.  The clouds were too thick.

When they returned to camp, Mirtal cooked for those who were pregnant or ill, and thus permitted to eat.  For the first time, the four former slaves ate without making Arden eat first.  

And then, blessings said, they shouldered their packs and set out for the Spring.


----------



## Ilex

*10x01*

The wind howled.

Kormick slogged forward, periodically grabbing his brimmed hat as it attempted to take flight and tugging it back down as low as he could on his forehead.  It was daytime, but it was dark.  And cold.

He spared a glance around at the group and wished he hadn't.  The wind drove like a dart into his eyes and, as he blinked them clear, he saw Savina clutching at her once-fine, now travel-stained cloak, pulling it close over her dirt-spattered armor as she struggled over a log.  Tavi tried to give her a hand but he only made it worse, tugging her forward too quickly so that she tripped and let out a sound that might be tears, if it were not so full of frustration.  

Then there were the dwarves:  the pregnant women, the children.  And the former slaves with the current slave in their midst, putting one foot in front of the other with the grim fortitude of the choiceless – or of the vengeful.  Arden happened to glance up as Kormick was considering that last point, and Kormick thought he read comradeship rather than murder in the gleam of her eyes as they met his from the shadows of her hood.  

Of course, in his experience, comradeship and murder often went hand-in-hand.  

Mena and Twiggy trudged on either side of Rose.  Mena was stoic, as usual, but Twiggy and Rose clung to one another in a combination of determination and misery.  “How are you doing?”  asked Twiggy—a question she asked often of Rose, and this time (like most others), she got a standard reply: “Fine.”  

“No,” Twiggy pressed, “how are you _doing?_”

“Ask me tonight,” Rose replied.  _After we get to the spring,_ thought Kormick, silently finishing her unspoken point.  _*If* we get there._

With a growl of thunder, a barrage of rain pelted down out of the roiling clouds for the first time.  The wind howled in answer and blew the raindrops nearly sideways.  Kormick grabbed his hat again and thought murderous thoughts of his own about bickering goddess-sisters.  

The path, appropriately, chose this moment to vanish almost entirely:  between them, he and Twiggy made their best guess about its direction and they pressed on, hoping they'd guessed right.  They grew soaked from the fitful rain as they clambered over moss-covered rocks and forced their way through knee-high scrub, wet leaves and twigs fluttering against their faces and striking their knees.  Kormick's boots began to squish and squelch with every step.

And then, at the bottom of a slope, he pushed through a tangle of branches into sudden openness and saw that they'd arrived.

He'd stepped into small valley that was rimmed by high, tree-covered slopes and overhung with storm clouds.  The wind gusted through the trees but the valley itself was sheltered from the worst of it, and before him, at the center of a meadow, fed by no streams, lay a pool of water, heavy rain dancing on its surface.  It looked like nothing special, and yet he had no doubts.  They'd found the spring.

"What do you know," he muttered to himself.  

As the others caught up to him, they spread out along the treeline and stopped, their gazes arrested by the sight before them.  No one moved and no one spoke; they would have had to shout above the noise of the wind in the trees and the splattering rain.  Kormick looked a question at Mena, but before she could answer, Savina stepped forward.

The girl in the flowered armor and the torn blue and green robes, her tangled hair streaming out behind her, made a strange but lovely sight as she walked alone over the grass toward the water.  She even skipped a few steps, the movement light, like a child playing or a barmaid dancing the grifter's galliard:  incredulously, Kormick had to concede that she looked _happy_.

Suddenly Rose set out behind her, Twiggy followed Rose, and then the whole group followed Twiggy.

Savina was kneeling by the water by the time they reached her.  She looked up at them with a radiant smile and announced, "This is it!  I can feel it!"

She bowed her head and began to pray.

Kormick glanced warily back at the tossing treeline.  With the storm swirling around them, they wouldn't be able to hear an army of ten thousand bearing down upon the valley, much less a stealthy pack of derro.  Nyoko and Sertani had clearly had the same thought – they were standing guard at the back of the group.  Nyoko had an arrow on the string, just in case.

Satisfied, Kormick turned back to see what the famous spring had to offer.

Savina continued to pray.

Nothing happened.

"Anybody remember Mother saying anything in particular about making this thing work?" asked Tavi.

"I couldn’t exactly ask her to write down the procedure for me before we left," said Rose dryly.  "That's why I brought an Alirrian priestess."

"They just prayed, and the oracle spoke," said Twiggy.  "At least that's all Dona Giovanna ever said." 

Savina opened her eyes and looked up at them.  She wasn't looking so happy now – she looked nervous.  "I – I'm not a priestess yet, not really," she said.  "This is a little bit out of my experience… I'm trying... but I don't know exactly what to say."

"The gods don't care exactly what you say," said Kormick.  "Think of me saying those funeral prayers.  I didn't know exactly what to say, but it's not like Kettenek is a stickler for proper grammar."  

Everyone from Tavi to the slave spun to stare at him with the expressions of bemused skepticism that Kormick was coming to know well.  

"Joking," he proclaimed, with a too-hearty laugh.  "Joking, joking . . . of course the God of Law and Justice and Rules and Death and whatever else is terrifically fussy about verb tenses.  But Alirria is not, yes?  Carry on praying."

"I wonder … " said Twiggy.  She reached down and touched the water carefully.  "No," she answered herself.  "It's just water.  I don't think it would help to enchant it."  

Rose knelt beside Twiggy and Savina and touched the water for herself.  Kormick saw Mena stiffen and instinctively braced himself, too, but again – nothing happened.  The water drops ran through Rose's fingers, the rain continued to pour down, the treetops on the hillsides continued to shudder and bow in the gusts of wind.

"We could try doing something with that vial of spring water from the underground chapel…" mused Twiggy.

"I don't think we want to waste that," said Tavi.

"It wouldn't be a waste if it gave us what we're after."

"No, but I don't see how it would help – "

Kormick didn't, either.  Strangely, he thought he knew the answer to this dilemma.  And it wasn't an answer he would ever have expected to be endorsing.

"Friends, friends," he called out over another roll of thunder.  "The young lady simply needs to keep praying.  Give her some time."

"There has to be a reason that Alirria gave us that vial, though," said Twiggy.

"Am _I_ the only one here with faith?" demanded Kormick.  He really _did_ have faith, he thought, no longer surprised.  At least, he had faith in _her_ faith.  "Go on," he told Savina's nervous face.  "Keep it up, keep it up."

Savina bowed her head once more.  Tavi stepped up and put his cloak around her, trying to shelter her from the storm as best he could.

"Signora," said Kormick, addressing Rose.  "It could not hurt for you to pray, too, could it?  Of course not."

Rose raised her eyebrows, but then bowed her head.

_Might as well set a good example for the kids,_ Kormick thought.  He scrounged around in his pack and found his holy text.  It only contained Kettenite prayers, of course, but surely the goddess – _once we accept the premise of a magical spring with a magical talking goddess, we can’t be too stubborn about the rulebook_ – would cut him some slack. 

Kormick stepped up beside the girls, took his hat off, knelt down, and opened his book, ignoring the looks he was getting from Tavi, Mena, and Arden.  "Hoo-kay," he grunted.  Sheltering the book with his cloak from the worst of the rain, he opened it at random and silently began running his eyes over the words, mentally changing the ponderous invocations from "Earth Father" and "Lawgiver" and "Just Justice of the Just" to "Holy Mother" and “Lifegiver” and “mumblesomethingmumble” whenever he remembered.

So they prayed, the three of them.

And the rain came down.

And time passed. 

###

After nearly an hour, Savina had used every prayer she could remember and a few she had probably gotten wrong.  She was cold, her knees were sore and wet, and she was exhausted.  This was not how she'd imagined her first Alirria Ascendant away from the Temple.  Alirria Ascendant was a day of peace, of rest, of quiet fasting and contemplation.  For Savina, it had been a day of discomfort, followed by delight, followed by insecurity and desperation.  

She mentally recited the closing words to one more prayer and then her mind's voice fell silent.  She felt blank, emptied out.  Or maybe she didn't feel anything at all.  

Into that still, calm emptiness came a voice, watery and echoing, like drops in the well of her mind. 

"Call to me and I will answer."

Without another thought, Savina put her hand into the water and spoke.  "Alirria.  Come to us."  And she channeled the power of her divine goddess through her soul and into the Spring.

She felt bubbles against her fingers, and then currents, and then the waters of the pool began to churn from below.  "She's coming…" Savina whispered.

Next to her, Kormick stood and put on his black hat.  She felt the others gathering close behind her.  She spared a glance at Rose, next to her, who was pale but still, watching the water.

A column of water spun itself up from the center of the pool and took the shape of a woman, her features changing and flowing – older faces and younger faces washed past.  Savina thought she saw her mother's.  Maybe her sister's.  Behind her, she heard a quick intake of breath from Kormick and a murmur of surprise from Twiggy.  She wondered if they were recognizing different faces.

The figure looked down at Rose, and despite her changing features, her expectant expression was obvious.

Rose stood up.  She had to speak loudly over the pattering rain and the gusting wind.  "Do you know who I am?" she asked.

The women's faces smiled.  I know who has laid claim to you, she said.  Who you are remains to be written.

Rose hesitated, then took a deep breath.  "I wish to know what destiny holds for me … and how I can thwart it, if I may."

The figure cocked her head and began to speak: Find the last breath –  

Suddenly, there were arrows everywhere among the raindrops.  

Nyoko shouted a warning.  The derro had caught up at last.


----------



## Jenber

Those motherfrickin derro.  That just made my stomach drop.  Again.


----------



## Falkus

I've been reading the original Halmae Thread and this once over the last month and a half, and I've finally finished. I have to say, I love the characters, the setting and the writing. This is an amazing story hour, and I look forward to future updates.


----------



## ellinor

Thanks so much, Falkus!  We have an awful lot of fun playing and writing, and it means a lot to know that you're enjoying reading about our exploits.


----------



## spyscribe

What she said!


----------



## ellinor

Hi all -- no update today, I'm afraid:  professional responsibilities have conspired to put us a few days behind in our story-hour writing.  But never fear:  In a few days, that hail of arrows will fall.  Or rather...fear.  Fear greatly.  In a few days, the hail of arrows will fall.


----------



## ellinor

*10x02*

A searing pain burned between Tavi’s shoulder blades as the hail of arrows rained down.  One arrow hit.  Then another.  The pain spread across his back and shoulders and into his arms as he heard a great howl from behind him.  As he turned to look,  a horde of derro crested the clearing’s ridge.  The derro emerged from the trees behind the group and charged toward them.  Five rode giant lizards.   The one on the largest lizard—clearly the leader—wore very heavy armor, apparently cobbled together from a variety of different suits, dwarven and human, crudely bolted together. A dozen archers and foot-soldiers flanked him, brandishing axes, hurtling toward the group and the holy Spring.  SHUNK.  An arrow sunk into Arden’s back as well.  She winced.

Instinctively, Tavi looked to Rose.  She dashed to the side, trying to find cover while staying close enough to listen to the Spring’s message.  The expression in her eyes hovered between determination and despair. _This is it,_ Tavi thought, vainly trying not to reduce his entire life into this single moment.  _Protect Rose.  Protect the Spring.  Hear the prophecy._

He craned his ears, but could not hear what the Spring was saying.  A few feet away, Twiggy yelled something as she conjured her fireball and Mena yelled something else as she charged toward one of the footsoldiers.  Tavi could not hear them, either.  He could not hear anything more than five feet away—the wind and rain were too loud.  He would not be able to move away from the Spring if he was going to hear its message.  None of them could.  Frankly, they might not hear the whole message even if they stayed right on the Spring’s banks.  

“—single gas—”, the figure in the Spring continued.

Savina ran toward Tavi.  “No killing!” she yelled.  “It’s Alirria Ascendant!”  Tavi was tempted to dismiss her words, but he knew she was right:  killing any living creature on this day, in this place, would be sacrilegious.  Not just that:  it might stop the Spring from making its prophecy, and all of this would be for nothing.  Glancing at Rose’s determined face, he wondered how many of the others had heard Savina’s plea—and he hoped that those who hadn’t would guess for themselves.  Savina pulled the arrows from Tavi’s back and he felt the warm glow of healing where the arrows had pierced him.   

While Savina healed Tavi, Kormick rushed toward the derro.  He focused his meager, though effective, sorcerer powers and unleashed his electrical attack, which hit a lizard and felled a footsoldier (_dead?_ Tavi wondered) and then he swung his axe at the lizard, leaving a gash in its hide that seemed less significant than the blow warranted.   A stone from Arden’s sling whizzed by and sank into the lizard’s shoulder.  But as blood dripped from its injuries, the lizard and its rider kept charging forward. _This is not looking good,_ thought Tavi, as he readied his sword to attack the same lizard.

Suddenly, the leader of the derro reared back and pointed.  The air shimmered.  The rain, already cold, froze into icy hail, and the ground became slick beneath Tavi’s feet—beneath all of their feet.  Then Kormick screamed, grabbed his head, and doubled over in pain.  Tavi had just enough time to wonder what spell had attacked Kormick when two arrows sank into Kormick’s thigh.  Spots of blood blossomed on Kormick’s pants.  

The derro leader was not unscathed—one of Nyoko’s arrows flew past Tavi and hit the snarling leader, along with one of the derro archers beside him—but he was still riding tall.

As if Nyoko’s arrows were a cue, another rain of arrows fell with the hail.  Two grazed Savina’s arm, and her blood spattered into the underbrush.  “No!”  Savina cried, desperation ringing in her voice as its sound dissipated in the wind, “no blood in the Spring!  We must keep the Spring pure!” 

_Too far, and we can’t hear the prophecy.  Too close, and we risk despoiling the Spring.  No one said it would be easy,_ Tavi thought.  _Mena would say I’ve trained for this._  He looked over to where Mena was marshaling the dwarves, who were fighting to stay alive.   Mena shifted away from the dwarves to guard Rose and listen closely, and then shook her head in frustration.  Tavi craned his ears again.

“—to turn the storm—”

As the giant lizards backed away from Twiggy’s ball of fire, Tavi unleashed his _flame cyclone_, charring the nearest lizard and rider.  But most of the lizards remained unscathed and continued to charge, snarling and slashing at Arden and Kormick.  They foamed and growled as Arden used her cloak to teleport back toward the pond (and into listening range), and loosed two stones from her sling.  A lizard and rider reared back as the stones hit.  “Rose!”  Tavi yelled.  “Get to the other side of the pond!”  In a flash, Rose teleported across the pond, farther away from the derro, but still not completely out of danger.  

There was no such thing.

Twiggy’s ball of flame helped to hold off the lizards, but it drew attention to her.  The derro leader pointed at her, and she doubled over as Kormick had, in obvious pain.  A rider urged his lizard forward and sliced at Twiggy with his poisoned blade.  Tavi followed the arc with his eyes as a drop of her blood flew up, across…just wide of the spring.

“A little help over here?”  Tavi just barely heard Kormick’s voice shouting from a few feet away—and on the slippery ground, he could not move to help.  A lizard and rider were bearing down on Kormick, and one of the footsoldiers was rushing his way, too.  SLASH.  The lizard’s claws raked across his chest.  SLICE.  The footsoldier’s axe split his side.  

The Justicar fell to the ground, unconscious, his blood soaking the wet, trampled grass.


----------



## ellinor

*10x03 -- Happy birthday, Fajitas!*

A year ago (well, very nearly so, on February 27), we commemorated Fajitas' birthday by beginning the tale of this group, who set off from the relative comfort of Pol Henna into the hostility of the Ketkath to find Alirria's Spring and learn its prophecy for Rose.

So it's only fitting that a year later, we finally get to hear...bits and snatches of that prophecy.  

So, happy birthday!  Thanks, Fajitas, for running a great game, and thanks to all of you for reading!  There's oh, so much more in store.

_______________________

*10x03*

_This *is* what I trained for,_ Tavi thought.  _It’s what I dreaded.  What I knew I would be marching into, one day._ 

His glance moved from Kormick’s motionless body to Mena, who was shouting orders to the dwarves, and then to Rose, who crouched on the other side of the pond, wiping welled tears from her face.

_It will *not* end this way,_ Tavi thought.

Tavi planted his feet, focused his mind into a spell, concentrated, and hurled his sword.  “Savina!  Down!”  he yelled, trusting she was close enough to hear.  She was.  The sword sailed over her head and planted itself among the footsoldiers.  Flames shot from its blade, setting one lizard and rider aflame and turning of the footsoldiers into a whirling, screaming mass.  _No death,_ Tavi thought, and with all his will he pulled the fire back in the sword before—he hoped—its effect became fatal.  Steam and smoke rose from the derro bodies and the immolated soldier fell to the ground, unmoving.  As the lizard bucked and snarled, Tavi’s sword re-formed in his hand.  He set it ablaze again, and with a _sword burst,_ he knocked unconscious another footsoldier and the still-smoldering rider.  He swung again, this time at the rider-less lizard, and sliced a long, smoking gash in its hide.  Lizard blood spattered onto the bank of the spring, inches from the water.  Tavi willed it to stay (_Please.  Please.  Not in the water_), and listened once again.

"—pestle fan the last coals of the—"

_That doesn’t make sense,_ Tavi thought, as another hail of arrows fell from the derro archers.  He couldn’t see who they hit—but he felt a surge of energy, and saw a blue glow from Savina’s staff.  A moment later, Twiggy grasped her head again, apparently the victim of another of the derro leader’s spells.  _They keep coming,_ Tavi thought.  _We have to do the same._

Suddenly, he saw Mena charge across the grassy field toward Kormick.  As she ran, two lizards and their riders slashed at her, leaving long red gashes in her arms and thighs.  She reached Kormick, though, and knelt down by his side, grasping his shoulders.  “GET THE HELL UP!”  she hollered.  Her armor hissed and howled.  The rider-less lizard charged toward her and the still-unconscious Justicar.  “NOW!”  She whipped her sword around and, as the lizard barreled forward, swung it like a club at the lizard’s head.  It struck the lizard, broadside, right between the eyes.  The lizard collapsed with a thud.  Kormick jerked up as if waking from a bad dream and swung his warhammer blindly.  “What? Where?”  he blurted, and tried to sit up.  

_That’s more like it,_ thought Tavi, as two more arrows flew past him from Nyoko’s bow.  They hit the derro leader squarely on the shoulders.  He raised one arm up, as if to cast, and toppled from his mount.  But his lizard reared back with a scream and charged forward toward Mena and Kormick.  “Dame Mena!”  Arden yelled, and another rock whipped from her sling, hitting the lizard just as it opened its jaws.  The lizard turned its head and Kormick flailed and rolled.  The lizard bit down on the grass and mud where Kormick’s shoulder had been.

Tavi knew this was the moment to move.  He unleashed another _sword burst_, knocking out another footsoldier and rider, and making another gash in the lizard that had been attacking Kormick.  Then he cast and threw his sword again.  It whirled, arcing over Mena and Kormick, and sliced another giant line down the lizard’s flank.  The lizard stumbled.  _Progress,_ thought Tavi.

But as the sword whirled back toward his hand, a tiny drop of lizard blood flew from its blade and soared toward Tavi.  Tavi saw it moving, and time slowed as it formed an arc across the rain.  He jumped up, hand outstretched, to stop its path.  

He could not.  

It dropped, a single bead amidst the thousands of drops of rain, into the pool beneath the woman's figure.

The water churned.  

The base of the figure bubbled red, and the figure quivered, still speaking, but gurgling, choked, and soft.  

Tavi strained to listen.  “"—the smothered flay—"

Droplets began to run off its sides, and its shape began to waver.  The voice cried out, then chanted some words Tavi could not understand, and began to sink as arrows from the derro archers fell into the pool beside it.

Tavi’s throat closed, and for a moment, he looked up at the sky.   Wind whipped his face and rain dripped into his eyes.  His back throbbed as the wound there continued to bleed.  He was cold.  But then he looked at Rose, across the pond, and the chaos in the clearing, and knew it wasn’t over.  Not by a long shot. 

He heard a scream.  It was Arden.  Arrows protruded from her chest and side.  She fell, unmoving, by the side of the pond.

The derro leader cast.  Another scream—this one from behind him—told him Nyoko was the leader’s target.

Mena dashed back toward the spring—again venturing too close to the riders’ blades and lizards’ claws, and paying for it in blood—and barked an inaudible order at the fighting dwarves.  Then she stopped and listened, breathing heavily, concentration and sadness showing on her face.  The Spring had stopped speaking.  

The wind howled, a great bolt of lightning cracked the sky, and the watery figure vanished into the Spring.  Gone.  

But Tavi didn’t have time to think about what they had lost.  One of the beasts hurtled toward Savina, and then reared up, pushing her to the ground with its claws and sinking its teeth into her side.  She went limp, unconscious.

Tavi thrust his sword into the ground, concentrated, and cast the spell that would switch his location for Savina’s.  It moved her farther from danger—_until they reach her there_, he thought—and put him in position to attack the lizard.  SLICE.  His flaming sword cut the lizard’s shoulder and continued on, smacking a footsoldier on the head hard enough to knock him out.  He slashed again, this time hitting the lizard’s rider.

The derro archers fired again.  Tavi felt an arrow sink into his side.  He broke off the end, but left it in.  Savina could not heal him, now.  He’d have to move through the pain.  Twiggy had also been hit, and had fallen to one knee as blood streamed from her thigh.

Kormick was not so lucky.  He fell, again, and did not stir.

Mena pulled a small vial from inside her armor, and put it to Savina’s lips.  She jerked it away—_had Savina been able to swallow its contents?_—when a beast rushed toward them.  Mena beat it back with skill Tavi recognized but a ponderous weakness that he did not.  Mena was fading.  

The lizard turned and charged at Twiggy, who knelt helplessly on the banks of the pond.  It slashed viciously across Twiggy’s chest and she slumped forward, limp.  Her fireball fizzled and wet ash fluttered across the field.

Tavi looked up just in time to see two more arrows headed directly for him.  He felt the bloom of agony in his chest, and felt himself stagger, and felt something—not pain, exactly—but a warm wetness, tightness…there was an arrow in his neck, something was wrong with his breathing… he put his hand to his neck.  Blood…

The world went black.


----------



## Jenber

*Shivers*


----------



## Falkus

> A year ago (well, very nearly so, on February 27), we commemorated Fajitas' birthday by beginning the tale of this group, who set off from the relative comfort of Pol Henna into the hostility of the Ketkath to find Alirria's Spring and learn its prophecy for Rose.
> 
> So it's only fitting that a year later, we finally get to hear...bits and snatches of that prophecy.
> 
> So, happy birthday! Thanks, Fajitas, for running a great game, and thanks to all of you for reading! There's oh, so much more in store.




Congratulations, I know I'm looking forward to more.

Though it's certainly quite the situation the heroes have gotten themselves into, I can't help but wonder how they're going to get out of it.


----------



## Jenber

Falkus said:


> Congratulations, I know I'm looking forward to more.
> 
> Though it's certainly quite the situation the heroes have gotten themselves into, I can't help but wonder how they're going to get out of it.




Me too.  I was there and I'm still not sure how it's going to work.


----------



## coyote6

ellinor said:


> It was Arden.  Arrows protruded from her chest and side.  She fell, unmoving, by the side of the pond.
> [...]
> Another scream—this one from behind him—told him Nyoko was the leader’s target.
> [...]
> The Spring had stopped speaking.
> 
> The wind howled, a great bolt of lightning cracked the sky, and the watery figure vanished into the Spring.  Gone.
> [...]
> Savina ... went limp, unconscious.
> [...]
> Kormick was not so lucky.  He fell, again, and did not stir.
> [...]
> Mena was fading.
> [...]
> It slashed viciously across Twiggy’s chest and she slumped forward, limp.
> [....]
> Tavi looked up just in time to see two more arrows headed directly for him.  He felt the bloom of agony in his chest, and felt himself stagger, and felt something—not pain, exactly—but a warm wetness, tightness…there was an arrow in his neck, something was wrong with his breathing… he put his hand to his neck.  Blood…
> 
> The world went black.




Uhh . . . Happy Alirria Ascendant?


----------



## Orichalcum

This seemed like such a light fun encounter when Fajitas previewed it for us....


----------



## Ilex

Happy actual birthday to Fajitas, and thanks to everyone who's commented here these last few days!  I have been laughing and/or groaning aloud, as appropriate, at your responses.  It was, indeed, a bleak Alirria Ascendant for us all.  As I sat at the table realizing that Arden, Savina, Tavi, Kormick, and Twiggy were all unconscious and dying... and Mena had maybe 1 HP left... I wasn't so much wondering HOW we would get out of this situation but IF we would.  I remember thinking, "Well, at least we're right next to a magical Alirrian spring, which surely could help heal some of us or -- 

-- whoops, we just destroyed it.  Uh, oh."

Good times.

Thanks, Fajitas, and thanks, fellow players, and thanks, co-writer ellinor, for a truly fun year.  Here's to more.


----------



## StevenAC

Happy Birthday, Fajitas!

I hope you enjoy the three new chapters I've added to the collected Story Hour site - I hadn't realised how far behind the story I'd gotten! 

Can't wait to see how (or should that be if?) the party get out of their current predicament...


----------



## ellinor

Thanks, StevenAC!  The PDFs are wonderful, and appreciated.

As for an update...it will be a few more days of hanging off this particular cliff, I'm afraid.  We love you!  But our jobs are awfully busy right now.  

While we're waiting...what do you think the PCs' Oscar picks would be?  I'm guessing that Phoebe would vote for "Up" in all categories.  Acorn is appalled (appalled, I tell you!) that "Sunshine Cleaning" wasn't nominated.


----------



## ellinor

*10x04*

In the silence, Savina felt a tingling on her lips and for the briefest moment, dreamed it was a kiss . . .

Whistling wind.  Pounding rain.  A choked scream.  A cry of fury.  Grunts of effort.  A groan, beside her.

Her face was wet.  Her body was cold, shivering.  She pulled at her cloak and felt the armor under it.  

She did not want to open her eyes.  

_That groan,_ she thought, _sounded like Tavi . . ._

TAVI!  All at once, Savina realized what was happening, where she was.  _The Spring . . . we ruined it . . ._

She forced her eyes open.

What she saw was worse than anything she could have imagined.  The pond beside her, no longer a holy spring, was mottled with mud.  The rain washed red rivulets of blood down its small banks to mingle with its plain, cold water.   Across its banks, Rose knelt crumpled, crying, huddled small.

The ground seemed littered with allies.  Kormick . . . Arden . . . Twiggy . . .Tavi . . . Mena was kneeling over Twiggy, screaming at her limp body, ordering it to move.  Nyoko was firing, two arrows at a time, across the field.  Dwarves and derro clashed wildly, a whir of axes and anger.  

There were more derro downed than friends -- but more derro alive than downed.  Two riders still atop their beasts.  One beast snarling free.  Archers . . . footsoldiers . . . the leader, striding about in his creepy armor.  

So wrong, so . . . sad . . . _Alirria, forgive us.  Forgive us.  For . . ._  her glance fell again on Tavi, his throat and chest and side pierced by arrows, blood flowing from his neck . . .

. . . TAVI!  Savina’s mind snapped into action.  _Alirria, help us._ She knelt and prayed, and felt Alirria’s healing power inside her once more.  Alirria, goddess of mercy, still gave her strength despite the day’s betrayal.  Savina pulled the arrows from Tavi’s body and touched him, staunching the blood flow, pushing Alirria’s strength into him.  He groaned.  _That’s it,_ thought Savina.  

“Tavi?”

His eyes opened and he looked up at her.  “You’re all right,” he said.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

He pushed himself up, bracing himself against his sword, and tested his legs.  He looked across the pond at Rose.  Then he lunged forward toward one of the riders.

Savina looked up.  The leader was pointing at her, saying something.

_No!_  Pain coursed through her head and body.  It felt as if her brain were freezing, pulling away from her skull . . . she closed her eyes and grasped at her head, struggling to concentrate.  _The others need my help!_

###

Arden knew what it felt like when you'd been knocked out for a little while.  She also knew what it felt like you were almost dead.  

This was the latter.  There was a tightness in her chest, a ringing in her head—_a few moments longer,_ she thought, _and maybe I’d have been out forever._

She knew the mottled sounds and fuzzy thoughts of coming back, and she knew:  there’s only one way to stay alive when it’s like this, when they’re coming after you, when they’ve beaten you too many times.  

You play dead.

As she lay there, face down in the mud and grass, the sounds became clearer.  Amidst the rain and wind, she recognized them, one by one.  A scream of agony from Twiggy.  Savina’s desperate cry of  “Tavi!” and an even more desperate cry of pain.  The clash of swords and axes.  A battle cry from Tavi.  The whoosh of arrows.  Mena’s voice:  “You trained for this too, Twiggy!  If you don’t get up now, SHE WINS!”  She didn’t hear Kormick’s voice. There was a scuffling sound behind her, a grunt, and the twang of a bow.  One of _them_ was standing right behind her.


It hurt to lie there, listening.  It always hurt to play dead when others were in trouble.  _But you can’t save anyone if you can’t save yourself_, she thought.  She listened again for Kormick’s voice, and again, it wasn’t there.  She felt an old, familiar surge of fury at her own powerlessness—   

Then Arden remembered what she had realized back in the derro caves, when she saw the slaves.  _This time, I’m armed._

She slid her hand down along the ground.  The sling was there, beneath her.  

In one motion, she grabbed the sling and a rock, sat up, spun around, and released the rock at the derro archer behind her.  The sudden attack caught the archer completely off guard.  He fell. 

Arden took stock of the situation.  Mena was stumbling, bleeding hard, but still fighting.  Savina was crumpled in pain.  Nyoko was concealed in the bushes at the edge of the clearing, picking off derro archers one by one.  Rose was hunched on the other side of the pond.  The dwarves were holding off a few of the derro footsoldiers.  Twiggy was casting—Mena’s words must have worked—and Tavi’s blade burned green as he cut into a lizard and rider.  

Kormick lay on the ground a few yards away, unmoving, bleeding.  An arrow pierced his thigh and gashes clawed across his chest.  There was no way Savina would be able to get to him.  The spellcaster had incapacitated the Blessed Daughter, and anyway, there was a lizard between her and Kormick who would cut her to shreds if she tried.  

Crouching low, dodging arrows, Arden rushed toward Kormick.  _I can do this_, she thought.  _I've patched up plenty of cuts, bruises, scrapes—_ 

_—My gods, this sucking chest wound looks nothing like them._

She ripped off part of her wet cloak and pressed against Kormick’s chest.  It instantly became soaked in blood.  Arden tore another piece and tried again, hunching down to avoid arrows overhead.  

Nyoko hit the derro leader.  He stumbled.  Twiggy cast.  Mena and Tavi fought the last remaining lizard and rider.  Arden pressed the cloth into Kormick’s chest, and spoke to him.  “Justicar, don’t die.  Please.”

The rider slashed at Mena.  She fell.  Savina rushed to her side.

The cloths were soaked, but Kormick’s bleeding seemed to slow a bit.  “Come on, Alleged,” she muttered. 

She didn't think it was her imagination:  he didn't look so deathly pale anymore.  Just then, a bolt from the derro leader zinged past her head, barely missing her and her patient.  She picked up a stone from the ground, fixed it in her sling, and, rising, hurled it at the derro leader with all her remaining strength.  It hit him, square in the eye.  

He fell like the dead, and Arden smiled.  

Then she pushed the emotion aside, knowing she should hope he _wasn't_ dead, given the day.  She knelt again to keep pressure on Kormick's chest.

The last remaining archers saw what happened, and turned to run.  Tavi chased after them.  He whacked one in the back and it fell, knocking the other down as it went.  The lizard and rider, reeling from their injuries, turned to run.  Twiggy cast, and they fell.

Kormick’s eyes fluttered open.  He tried to sit up, put his hand to his crossbow, and fired into a tree.

Arden put her hand on his shoulder gently and pressed it to the ground.  “You need to rest, Justicar,” she said, “Kettenek’s justice is upon you.”  She glanced at his pierced thigh.  “Also an arrow.”  

###

_We’ve won,_ Twiggy thought, as the wind died down and the rain slowed to a drizzle. 

_Winning is supposed to feel good._

Rose was across the pond, still crying.  Twiggy walked around the pond.  “Rose.”  Twiggy put her hand around her friend’s shoulder.  “We’re safe.  It’ll be okay.”

Rose looked up, her face red and swollen from crying.  She had never before looked quite so wet, Twiggy thought, and slowly, silently, they walked back to the other side of the pond.  Tavi met them partway.  Mena was gathering derro and lizards, tying them up so they couldn’t escape when they came to.   The dwarves were tending to each other.  They had held their own in the battle, but were cut and bruised.

Rose's comrades gathered near Kormick, who lay on the ground, weak, wrapped in bloody makeshift bandages. 

“We didn’t kill anyone,” said Mena, when she was done.  _At least there’s that,_ thought Twiggy.  

“But . . . what I felt when we entered the clearing . . . the holiness . . . it’s gone,” said Savina.  “We ruined it.”

“The *derro* ruined it,” Nyoko corrected her.

“I ruined it,” said Tavi, and looked down at his sword, still streaked with blood.

“It wasn’t you or the derro,” said Rose, quietly.  “You know that.  You know who destroyed it.”  

Twiggy put her arm around Rose again and—for once—didn’t say anything.  She knew they had done the right thing, that they had honored Alirria, that they had done their best…_but this feeling,_ she thought, _you can’t reason that away_.

###

“That’s Dolax,” said Nyoko, as she, Mena, and Savina checked on the bound derro.  

“Which one?” asked Mena.

“The leader, Dolax.  He’s the leader for all the derro.”  Nyoko spat with disgust.  

A few of the derro were stirring.  Savina was—of all the ridiculous things to do—binding their wounds.  Nyoko understood that the heathens believed that this was a holy day for the godling Alirria—even Sovereigns celebrated Alirria Ascendant, now that worship of the godlings was permitted—and she understood that the heathens believed that killing on this day was wrong.  She had honored their tradition in the battle by shooting only to subdue, not to kill.  _But healing them?_ Nyoko asked herself.  _People must die on Alirria Ascendant, sometimes.  We couldn’t just let them die? Surely that is different from killing them._

Mena dragged Dolax by his moustache to the edge of the pool and loosened his gag.  The mud beneath his feet was soaked in blood.  “This—” Mena pointed at the ground “—this is the blood of your comrades.  This is the blood of my comrades.  This—”  she gestured to the pool and the clearing “—this is the place you destroyed.”

Dolax set his jaw, stoic and defiant.  Nyoko kicked him in the balls.

“You will tell us,” Mena went on, “what led you here.”  Her armor hissed and snarled and she gripped his topknot, pulling his head back and forcing him to his knees.  A hint of fear crept into his eyes.

“Search parties,” he said, “look for you.  Mine not only one.  Others lose trail.  Birds not see you.  We find you by chance.”

Mena dragged him back to the pile of bound derro and threw him down.

“We’ll deal with them tomorrow,” Tavi said, when Mena and Nyoko returned to report.

The Justicar was sitting up, weakly.  Savina had healed some of his wounds, but he still needed rest.  “So…” he began, “Sedellus is done with us now, no?”

Mena looked at him and shook her head.  “Adorable.”

“I heard a few bits of prophecy,” volunteered Twiggy.

“So did I,” came a chorus of responses.

And they all sat down to figure out what the Goddess had told them.


----------



## ellinor

*10x05*

Kormick tore a page from his notebook and began to write, as each member of the group offered the words and phrases they had heard from the Spring.  Some had heard better than others; some had to guess at words; and it was anyone’s guess what order most of the snippets should go in—but they had something to work from.  

Kormick ripped the page into pieces corresponding with each snippet and laid the bits on the ground so they could move them about like a child’s puzzle.  

“Find the last breath” – it began.

Arden (in no particular order):
-- agents’ blow will crush it gain --
-- fall catch the last --
-- gasp amidst the gale the gasp --
-- lady tame --

Kormick (in no particular order):
-- that can’t but must prevail two --
-- breath of the dying king the sin -- 
-- air it crush the flower and ought --
-- the broken vessel fall --

Mena:
(1)	-- once a stalwart guard -- 
(2)	-- last drop from the --
(3)	-- ’gainst ill for --
(4)	-- flame one for each once all are taken --

Nyoko:
(1)	-- light brings break the --
(2)	-- the last stone of the --
(3)	-- the ruined wall once --
(4)	-- e’er it go though fired --

Savina:
(1)	-- autumn’s dark intents be -- 
(2)	-- follow it where heir -- 
(3)	-- fortune’s pest --
(4)	-- forsaken to make the lurking lay --

Tavi (in no particular order):
-- to turn the storm --
-- the smothered flay --
-- single gas --
-- pestle fan the last coals of the --

Twiggy (in no particular order):
-- guarding tower crush it ere --
-- storm the twilight --
-- fired strong the age --
-- one of which may be four --

_And now, dear readers, it’s your turn . . . we’ll post the solution next week.  In the meantime, enjoy the puzzle!_


----------



## coyote6

Hey, nobody said there'd be _homework_!


----------



## Falkus

I wish I was better at puzzles, I can see some of the obvious connections, but I've no idea how to even begin putting that all together.


----------



## coyote6

I'd start by putting all the fragments on index cards, with different PCs recollections on different color cards. That way you could just rearrange 'em until they made sense.

(Yes, I did steal the idea from some guy's blog about how the writing room on the TV show he runs works. Why do you ask? Great blog, wonder what ever happened to him?  )

Of course, I'm too lazy to do that now. Besides, I have work, a couple of movies to watch, an M&M game to prep, and some M&M and D&D to play.


----------



## Falkus

You know, the evil part in my that I harness when I DM my own game can't help but wonder, were they all hearing the same thing?


----------



## Ilex

Falkus said:


> You know, the evil part in my that I harness when I DM my own game can't help but wonder, were they all hearing the same thing?




The trouble is, we _were_, but we weren't necessarily interpreting the words in the same way.  So, while someone heard "air," someone else perhaps heard "e'er" and someone else "heir"... 

Switching to a totally different topic, I/Arden had a remarkable run of good luck in this segment -- one of those sequences that you can't take any credit for, because it was the dice, but which was awesome anyway.  She had been dying (had failed at least one death-saving roll).  But then:

1) natural 20 on death-saving roll (allowing her to wake up on her own)

2) successful bluff check on playing dead (giving her combat advantage over the archer behind her)

3) successful attack on the archer

4) successful heal check on Kormick to stabilize him (she has barely any healing skill)

and finally 

5) some satisfyingly high rolls for her daily power, which allowed her to drop the derro leader (which is not to say that he wasn't already staggering, of course, thanks to many successful hits by Nyoko, Tavi, et al.).  

All in all, that was a fun few rounds for me at the table, especially when the stakes were so high and I was genuinely scared we were all about to die...!


----------



## babomb

Solution:
[sblock]Find the last breath of the dying king--
The single gasp amidst the gale:
The gasp that can't, but must, prevail--
To turn the storm the twilight brings.

Break the stone of the ruined wall,
Once a stalwart guarding tower.
Crush it ere it crush the flower,
and autumn's dark intents befall.

Catch the last drop from the broken vessel.
Follow where'er it go.
Though fired strong, the agents' blow
Will crush it 'gainst ill fortune's pestle.

Fan the last coals of the smothered flame --
One for each, once all are taken,
One of which may be forsaken--
To make the lurking lady tame.[/sblock]


----------



## Ilex

Yay, babomb!!  That would be it -- well done.  

This was a very fun puzzle.  Fajitas had strips of paper ready for each of us revealing what we'd personally heard, and as soon as he handed them around, we were spreading them out as a group and working hard.  Everyone stayed engaged throughout -- no one wandered off and lost interest -- and it was a lot of fun to see the answer come together as we caught on to how it worked and people called out more and more connections.

Now if you could kindly just tell us exactly what it all  _means_....


----------



## Rughat

Darn, I figured it out after you did.  I was hoping for first on the puzzle.

I'm a fan-boy for the cosmology that Fajitas has created.  The use of the elemental/seasonal imagery in the prophecy is awesome.


----------



## Ilex

*11x01*

"That's it," concluded Twiggy softly. "It has to be."

All of them, even Nyoko and Arden, pressed closer to the flimsy strips of paper laid out in orderly progression on the damp earth near the pond. By this point, after many minutes of discussion and debate about the proper arrangement of the strips, they were all familiar with the words of the prophecy. This, however, was the first chance they'd had to read the whole thing:

_Find the last breath of the dying king,_
_The single gasp amidst the gale,_
_The gasp that can’t, but must, prevail_
_To turn the storm the twilight brings._

_Break the last stone of the ruined wall,_
_Once a stalwart, guarding tower._
_Crush it ere it crush the flower_
_And autumn’s dark intents befall._

_Catch the last drop from the broken vessel._
_Follow it where e’er it go._
_Though fired strong, the agent’s blow_
_Will crush it ’gainst ill fortune’s pestle._

_Fan the last coals of the smothered flame,_
_One for each once all are taken,_
_One of which may be forsaken_
_To make the Lurking Lady tame._

"Ah," said Kormick, straightening up and cracking his back. "At last everything is perfectly clear."

Kormick’s sarcasm aside, Twiggy suspected that this was probably about as clear as prophecies ever got. She was puzzled by the gods’ apparent propensity for communicating in opaque metaphor . . . but she relished the challenge of deciphering this one. "We can figure this out," she said. 

"How?" asked Rose. "It makes no sense. Except that it scares me. It says we can't prevail."

"It doesn't say that, not exactly," Twiggy insisted. "It says that a gasp _must_ prevail. We don't know what that means yet. It could mean anything."

Rose was silent, unconvinced. 

"Look," said Twiggy. "A breath amidst a gale. Like wind. That's Sedellan, right? Then a stone – that's Kettenek. Then a drop – Alirria. Then a flame – Ehkt. Four stanzas, four gods."

"But what does it _mean_? Who's the dying king?"

Tavi turned to Nyoko. "The Sovereignty doesn't have a king, does it?"

Nyoko didn't look up from studying the prophecy – she was committing it to memory, Twiggy guessed. "No. The Lord Regent is Kettenek's mortal representative on this earth. He is old, of course, and – "

"And what?"

"There has been speculation that his time is coming to an end."

"There," said Tavi. "There's our dying king."  

"He is not a _king_," corrected Nyoko firmly. "He is the Lord Regent." 

"Our King in Dar Und is always in danger of horrible, horrible death," Kormick pointed out.

Mena interrupted. "Four Fathoms isn’t so much a king, as a . . ."

Kormick cocked an eyebrow. "As a what?"

"As a crime boss who has murdered his way to the top."

Kormick shrugged. "Your point?"

The discussion continued for a while, as people proposed theories and others expressed skepticism. Twiggy was right in the midst of the debate – this kind of puzzle was so fascinating – but she couldn't help noticing that Rose was growing more and more lost in thought. Finally, as Tavi speculated whether the "broken vessel" might refer to the spring, Rose turned away from the group and walked to the edge of the water. 

Twiggy tore herself away from the conversation and followed. She heard the conversation die behind her as everyone noticed their departure. A breeze blew. There were ripples on the water, and the trees rustled. Across the water, the dwarves had built a campfire and were tending to their injured, and not far away lay the bound derro prisoners. It was late afternoon on Alirria Ascendant, and they had received a divine prophecy in the goddess's own sacred valley… but the magic of the place was gone, its grass now torn and blood-stained, the muddy earth plowed up by blades and boots and dragged prisoners' bodies.

"I should have known," Rose said, as Twiggy reached her side. "She follows me everywhere."

Twiggy felt the depth of her own obligation to Rose in this moment. It wasn't just that she was Rose's servant, and her job was to keep Rose feeling comfortable. It was that she was Rose's _friend_. She put her arm around Rose and took a second to gather her thoughts.

"Rose – " she began, and then suddenly there was Kormick.

"I don't understand your gloom, Signora," he announced. "There's no evidence to back it up. Allow me to illustrate." He whipped out his ever-present notebook and pen.

"Kormick, not now," said Twiggy, but the Justicar was undeterred. 

"Just a moment. Just a moment." He was scribbling now.

"Rose," Twiggy tried again. "All we can do is move forward…"

Rose gave a shuddering sigh.

"There," announced Kormick, and held up what he'd been writing. It was a chart with two columns. One said "GOOD." One said "BAD." 

"Consider our accomplishments objectively," Kormick continued, pointing at the chart with his pen. "Under the 'good' column, we have, among other items, 'all in party alive and healthy. ' We have 'saved dwarves.' We have 'saved Nyoko. ' We have 'stopped marauding derro.' We have 'something as close to religious experience as it gets.' Yes? Now, let us consider the 'bad.' 'Spring destroyed.' The end. Indeed, very sad. But you must note – you cannot ignore – that this 'bad' column is _considerably_ shorter than the 'good' column. I rest my case."

Twiggy looked around at the group. Mena was bemused. Nyoko looked like Kormick was making perfectly reasonable good sense. Arden was concealing a smile. 

Rose, however, was stiff beneath Twiggy's sheltering arm.

"Kormick, please. Let me talk to Rose," said Twiggy.

"The evidence is right here," insisted Kormick, tapping the notebook. "It's inarguable. There is no reason to feel bad."

"Kormick," Twiggy said firmly, "You’re not helping." Everyone grew still. Twiggy knew how inappropriate it was to talk back to a Justicar—how inappropriate it was for a lady-in-waiting to talk back to _anyone_—but she also knew Rose. Kormick was right, of course. His chart was accurate. Twiggy knew that. But his chart was too glib, and . . . _and comforting Rose is *my* job,_ thought Twiggy.

Kormick raised an eyebrow, turned to the others, and muttered, "I mean, am I crazy? Does the math lie?" Twiggy faced Rose, trying to shut everybody else out. She held Rose's eyes with her own and spoke. "All we can do – all we can do, all right? – is move forward. Alirria must have known that we need this information. She kept telling it to us even after blood fell into the spring. Now we have that information, and a decision to make. We have to decide what to do next."

"Remember my last decision?" asked Rose. Her flat despair made Twiggy wince. _Her last decision. The decision to come to the spring in the first place. When you put it that way … _Twiggy struggled for what to say. 

And Kormick was back. "I understand now," he said, and this time his tone was softer. "When you make your first kill… you think it's going to be a high, yes? And maybe it is, for a little while. But then there's a time when the world seems very empty. Very cold and very lonely. Because now you know that you – with only your two hands – have the power to ruin things. And that means things can ruin you. And justice … justice has to compete with three other gods, and sometimes it doesn't win."

Rose was looking at him solemnly. Everyone was.

Mena stepped up beside Kormick. "But although we've learned that we're definitely fighting a goddess," she said, "we seem to have another goddess on our side. That matters."

After a moment, Rose nodded. Twiggy didn't think Rose was entirely convinced. But she was calmer. Twiggy hugged her close for a moment, and, to her relief, Rose hugged her back.

Around them, the group dispersed. Savina and Arden checked on the dwarves – Arden tightening her lips uncomfortably as she learned that the slaves she'd rescued were now addressing her as "Honored Benefactor." Tavi, Mena, and Kormick returned to the derro prisoners, checking once more to make sure their bonds were secure and searching their equipment. They returned to the spring's edge with two healing potions, a potion of vigor, a pair of enchanted boots, and two magical weapons – a short sword and a warhammer.

The shadows were growing long. The holy day of Alirria Ascendant was drawing to its close.

Kormick hefted the warhammer and stuck it through his belt. Then he said, "Arden." He tossed the boots to Arden without another word; she caught them, startled, and her eyes widened further as he held the short sword's hilt toward her. She closed her hand around it and they looked at each other. 

"Thank you, Justicar," she said.

He shrugged it off. "Anyone object to me helping the murder-slave become more murderous?" he asked. No one did: in fact, Twiggy could tell that Mena, in particular, was pleased with the Justicar's gesture. Kormick turned away and then wheeled back. "On second thought…" he began. 

"Kormick – " Mena objected, exasperated.

"No, no, hear me out," he said. "Our Sovereign friend, Nyoko, fought bravely beside us today. She didn't have to. It's fair to give her something in return."

"That seems appropriate," agreed Tavi, with a courtly nod to Nyoko.

"I appreciate your thought," said Nyoko, "but I desire nothing that derro have touched." 

"I'm already ahead of you," said Kormick. "Slave, you always knew that magical cloak was far too nice for you."

Arden opened her mouth as if she was going to argue, closed it again, quirked a philosophical smile, and reached up to unclasp the cloak – with its teleportation ability. It fell from her shoulders. She walked over to Nyoko and handed the Sovereign woman the fine fabric.

"On behalf of these gentlefolk, Honored Adept," she murmured.

Nyoko looked puzzled, but accepted the garment.

"You earned it – it's yours," affirmed Kormick.

"Until we find its proper owners," added Savina.

Nyoko looked even more puzzled. Kormick patted her on the shoulder.

"I'll explain later," he said. "Right now, we should make camp. I'll take care of shelter." He unslung his ax and headed toward the nearest tree – until Savina threw herself in his path.

"You can't cut down trees!" she said. "Not today!"

Kormick threw back his head in frustration. "Of course not. Fallen branches, then. If that's acceptable."

Savina nodded. "But wait a moment," she said. "I feel… I need to try something. A ritual called _Bloom._"

While they all watched, Savina drew an Alirrian holy symbol on the ground near the pond and sat cross-legged in its center. She closed her eyes in meditation and began to chant. The ritual drew itself out as the sun sank down toward on the rim of the valley. Suddenly, something rustled near Twiggy – she jumped. Tendrils were springing out of the ground close by, uncurling and budding with green leaves. Flowers were blinking open everywhere she looked. The sprouting tendrils turned into green shrubs and vines. The very forest's edge seemed to creep closer, tree limbs drooping heavy with leaves and blossoms. The air smelled of warm rain, petals, and springtime. Soon, the entire area around the spring was overgrown with a lush tangle of flowers, vines, bushes, and eager young trees. 

As the rapid growth subsided and the sun, which had almost seemed to balance on the horizon, now slipped over its edge, Savina opened her eyes and surveyed her work with a joyful smile. "The pool will be protected now," she announced, looking around at the results of her ritual. 

Mena put a hand on Rose's shoulder. "See, child?" she murmured. "Alirria hasn't completely abandoned this place." 

Rose managed a faint smile. Twiggy could tell that her friend had bitten back a grimmer response. But as they made camp, sheltered safely under the tangle of new life, that little smile in the twilight would have to do.


----------



## Shieldhaven

Yay, update!

Out of curiosity, was this a skill challenge to stop Rose from despairing?

Haven


----------



## Fajitas

Shieldhaven said:


> Yay, update!
> 
> Out of curiosity, was this a skill challenge to stop Rose from despairing?



No skill challenge.  Just good old-fashioned RPing.

Savina's _Bloom_ made me unspeakably happy, by the way.  Part of me wanted to let the Spring do something like that on its own because it was such a beautiful image, a sign that all was not lost. But giving the PCs a moment of hope felt like such a betrayal of the bitterness of this victory.  The _Bloom_ let them *earn* that moment of hope, let them find their *own* hope amidst the ashes.  A perfect solution.

It made me do my Happy DM Dance.


----------



## jonrog1

You know, it was a very good list.  I still don't understand why the others couldn't see the sense behind it.

Things in Dar Und are a lot simpler.


----------



## Jenber

jonrog1 said:


> You know, it was a very good list.  I still don't understand why the others couldn't see the sense behind it.
> 
> Things in Dar Und are a lot simpler.




I believe this is the point where Mena says "If the heart ever learns to see sense, Sedellus will lose half her power."  I believe this is also the point when she heartily wishes for a flask with something in it that burns going down.  For the kids.


----------



## Ilex

*April 1 Announcement*

So... you may have noticed that we've been a little sporadic about posting recently, and I'm sorry to announce that, due to creative differences, the story hour and the game have totally fallen apart.  Here's what happened.  Basically, we've all realized that D&D just isn't for us anymore.  WisdomLikeSilence, for example, has become obsessed -- and I do mean obsessed -- with professional football.  Yes, it's the off season, but she's spending all her free time researching prospects for her fantasy teams this fall and re-decorating her daughter's room with Raiders paraphernalia.  And she keeps calling us all "nerds" and "dorks" in, like, a _mean_ way.  Meanwhile, Fajitas has declared that he'll keep running the game for us _only_ on the condition that we convert it to a futuristic space setting starring a boy band of Justin-Bieber lookalikes who travel the universe teaching wacky aliens Upstanding Moral Lessons through song.  

Then there's jonrog1, who has joined a religious cult "study group" and made bizarre threats to us if we say anything more about it or so much as comment on his new headgear.  

Thatch and jenber are building some kind of bunker out in the middle of nowhere that has nothing to do with conspiracy theories and everything to do with their new preoccupation with motorcyles.  They, like WisdomLikeSilence, have taken to declaring that the rest of us are "uncool" although they do, to their credit, keep trying to buy us studded leather jackets so they can feel less ashamed of our geekiness when speaking to us.

spyscribe has taken a job with the Republican National Committee to organize classy donor outings in the Los Angeles/Hollywood/West Hollywood area.  And by "outings" I mean... never mind.

ellinor is still into D&D and this story hour, and has nobly tried to hold everyone together through reasoned argument, legal wrangling, heartfelt song-composing (not, to Fajitas's disappointment, in a boy-band vein), and some light, quasi-legal bribery.  But I've told her, and everybody else, that I can't be friends with anyone who supports the Raiders, I just can't, and that's the end of it.  GO BRONCOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

...and with that April 1 announcement out of the way, here's the next story hour update.  We think we're back on track;  look for us on Thursdays as usual again.


----------



## Ilex

*11x02*

Mena awoke at dawn to the sounds of Savina's prayers mingled with the groans of bound derro.  Across the coals of the fire, Rose sat up from her bedroll, blurry-eyed.  The girl looked like she was having trouble waking up – which meant, to Mena's scant relief, that at least she had slept a little.  _At least she'll feel a little better, physically.  We've got to find a way to give her hope again or she'll give up before we finish this_.  Mena glanced around and realized the rest of the party didn't look particularly cheerful, either.  Clearly sleep hadn't done much good for anyone's mood.

As they finished breakfast, Tavi cut his eyes toward the prisoners.  "So," he said.  "We have to decide what to do with those guys.  What's the punishment for illegal enslavement in Pol Henna?"

Kormick, with disheartening predictability, shrugged.  "We're not in Pol Henna," he said, covering what Mena suspected was ignorance.  Mena opened her mouth to comment, but Tavi didn't miss a beat.

"Lady Nyoko," he said, "what's the punishment for illegal enslavement in the Sovereignty?"

"All slavery here is illegal," answered Nyoko.  "A local lord might intimidate or force someone into bondage and dependency as a serf with impunity, as his word in his realms is law.  Now, if he's _stealing_ serfs from another lord, obviously the Council of Peers could intervene.  Such issues are on the far side of the Circle from the Adepts, of course, though we might be called to testify."

Everyone stared at her blankly.  _Wonderful_, thought Mena.  _We've managed to find a place with dicier politics than Pol Henna_.

Yes, sleep had definitely not improved her mood.

"Hmm," said Kormick.

"Was I not clear?" asked Nyoko.

"Not … precisely," ventured Tavi.

"Forgive me, I was trying to speak plainly.  As I said, the local lord's word is law."

"And who is the local lord here?" Tavi asked.

"We're in the midst of the Ketkath, in unclaimed lands.  And among those affected by the crimes of these derro – that is to say, among myself, the dwarves, and your party – I believe you hold the highest rank, Signor Octavian-san."

"Are you saying that Sovereign law allows Tavi to decide the fate of the derro?" asked Mena. _Send the boy out into the wilderness to help his sister thwart a goddess, force him to kill to save lives, but don't ask this.  Please don't ask this_.

"Indeed.  I will stand as witness to the legality of his actions should you ever require testimony in that respect."

"And what fate would an average Sovereign lord assign to these derro?" asked Tavi.

"Execution."

"And thus we come to it," said Kormick, and silence fell.

Of course, they'd all known it was coming.  It was the penalty they hadn't dared to think about enforcing yesterday. Mena watched Tavi as he considered what he had been told.  "Rose, Savina,” he said, squaring his shoulders, “you stay here with the dwarves.  Kormick and Lady Nyoko, if you would come with me…"

Mena stood to join Tavi without being asked, and he nodded his thanks. 

Sertani, the dwarven matriarch, walked up with her hand on the seven-year-old Thurran's shoulder. 

"That won't be necessary, Sertani," Tavi said.

"We're coming," Sertani answered.  "These creatures murdered Lord Rockminder's father, enslaved Lord Rockminder and others of his kin, and in so doing insulted us all.  Honor requires us to see them answer for these offenses."

"But Thurran's just a boy … " Savina began.  

"If this is his duty," said Tavi, "then who are we to stop him?  Let's go."  Tavi stalked away toward the derro prisoners.  Thurran struggled to shoulder the heavy warhammer that Kormick had given him as he and Sertani followed Tavi.  Kormick, who didn't speak dwarven, fell in beside Mena, jabbed a thumb at the boy, and muttered out of the side of his mouth, "Why’s the kid coming?"

"Gods-damned dwarven honor," answered Mena.  _The things we force children to witness in the name of "honor" and "duty."  No wonder the Twilight Lurker has such an easy time of it when we turn such principles into weapons for her_.

They slashed the ropes on the derro’s feet and got them up and moving in a mass, spurred onward by glares and brandished weapons.  The derro hung their heads and skittered, looking servile and cowardly – all except Dolax, who glared at them with his one remaining good eye and twisted his arms, trying to free his bound wrists.

They marched the prisoners down the valley, leaving the spring far behind in its protective copse of new flowers and trees.  Only after they were definitely out of earshot as well as sight of the spring did Tavi call a halt.    

While Mena, Kormick, Nyoko, and the dwarves waited to one side, Tavi stood before the derro and spoke in dwarven.  "I am Signor Octavian di Raprezzi, and in accordance with the laws of the Sovereignty I charge you with the following crimes: highway robbery, kidnapping, false enslavement, assault upon the person of an Adept, attempted murder, and murder."  He raised his eyebrows at Nyoko, asking if she had anything to add.  

"So witnessed," she said simply.  

Tavi turned back to the derro.  "The punishment for your crimes is execution." Mena bit back a snarl.  _This is wrong.  Wrong that it's Tavi, wrong that the victors seek vengeance when the battle is over, wrong that we turn so easily to death when it's not needed.  That's just doing more evil, not good.  You know better than this, boy.  Think, damnit_!

As the derro cowered and Dolax shouted imprecations, Kormick nudged Mena for a translation and she quickly summarized Tavi's words.  

"Technically, he's skipping the _trial_," muttered Kormick. Mena nodded.  She and Kormick exchanged a look.

"I have witnessed their crimes," responded Nyoko.  "That is evidence enough for any local lord to reach a conviction.  There is no irregularity."

"Signor Octavian!" Kormick called out anyway.  "A word?"

Tavi cast a warning glance at the derro before stepping over.  "What is it?"

"I – " Kormick began, and hesitated.  Mena had never seen him struggle to explain himself, but he struggled now.  "At the spring.  We have just been part of something … something … "  He paused, then continued in a rush.  "Look, no one is more shocked than me that I am advocating such a disturbingly heartwarming deed but I think we shouldn't kill the prisoners."  

Tavi's eyebrows shot up.  The beginnings of relief were flickering at the edges of his eyes, but doubt hung there as well.  _He just wants someone to tell him the law and his duty allow leniency_.   

"Unacceptable!"  Sertani crossed her arms.

"They're criminals," said Nyoko.

"—_All_ the prisoners," Kormick amended.  "We shouldn't kill _all_ of them.  Dolax and his lieutenants, I'll happily crush their skulls myself.  But the little guys… they were just following orders.  They lack – what is the word – culpability."  

The group was skeptical, but they were listening. 

Kormick pressed on.  "Furthermore, if we kill them all, none of the other derro will ever hear of how fearsome we are.  These guys" – he motioned to the cowering derro footsoldiers – "they will be rushing back to their caves, arms flailing, screaming ‘the mighty humans killed Dolax!’  _If_ we leave some alive to carry our legend back, I think the derro won't be bothering anybody for a long time to come."

"I wish we could be sure of that," said Tavi.

"Let's ask," said Mena.  _If we can give Tavi enough reason to believe that his sister would be safe from these creatures, perhaps he'll choose not do Sedellus's work for her today.  _  She strode over to the derro and picked out a sturdy footsoldier who looked a little less craven than the rest – he hadn't wet himself yet, at any rate.  

"You there.  If we let you go, what will you do?"  She remembered asking a similar question of the very first derro they'd met.  This one, however, gave a different answer.  

"Return below," he said.  

"And …?"

"Return below!"

"Will you seek to follow us?"

She liked the way he glanced fearfully past her at her comrades before answering, "No."

She grabbed his topknot and forced his head back so he was staring straight up into her face.  "If I find that derro have tried to follow us, I will personally destroy every member of your family" – she pointed to the footsoldier standing next to him – "every member of _his_ family, and on down the line.  Make sure everyone understands.  All right?"

The derro, trembling, nodded as best he could beneath her hand.  She let him go, shoving him backwards so he fell, and turned toward her comrades.  "I like Kormick's plan," she commented.  Her eyes met Tavi's and she prayed that this would be enough, that all his training and lessons would be enough.  _Sedellus wins or loses here, child_.

"We do not," said Sertani.

Tavi considered for a moment.  "Can you accept it?" he asked her.

Sertani pressed her lips together angrily, but nodded once.  "The Lord Rockminder has not yet reached his majority," she said.  "Thus we shall accept your leadership.  But the day will come when my son, Lord Thurran the Derroslayer of House Rockminder, returns for his revenge."  She had raised her voice, glaring at the derro, and they shivered.  

"That will be his decision," said Mena gently.  

Thurran hefted his warhammer.  "I'll come back," he said. 

Tavi turned once more to Nyoko.  "If we only kill Dolax and the three big guys – the  lieutenants – are you all right with that?"

Nyoko said, "My emotions must be irrelevant to your judgment."  The way she bit off the words made her emotions clear, however, and there was vengeance in her eyes as she surveyed the prisoners.

"But does Sovereign law permit such a solution?" pressed Kormick.

"As I have stated, Sovereign law in this place is whatever he says," answered Nyoko, once more nodding at Tavi.

"Then we'll kill Dolax and the lieutenants and let the rest go," declared Tavi. Mena smiled grimly, proud of her student.

"Huh," was Kormick's final, pleased comment.  "I think I just did my actual job."

Without wasting more time, they hauled Dolax and his lieutenants to the front of the derro group.  Their deaths were quick: Tavi's blade flashed and Dolax's head went rolling across the grass.  Kormick raised his derro ax and struck the head off the first lieutenant.  Mena dispatched the second with her sword, and Tavi took the third.  With the four leaders' bodies lying on the ground, the closest derro backed away, expecting to be next.  They looked genuinely shocked when Tavi lowered his sword and announced that they were being shown mercy.  They were so shocked that none of them even ran.

"Leave this valley," Mena told them. "Keep your place, underground.  We will know if you do not.  And it would be very, very wise for you to stay out of our way.  For several generations."  She paused, and her armor chattered and hissed.  "You should get out of our sight now," she suggested quietly, and at the threat in her voice, they ran, hands still bound, away into the trees.  She sighed quietly in relief and exhaustion.  This battle was done, at least.

Kormick stuck his derro ax into the ground beside the corpses and left it there.

###

Rose, Savina, Twiggy, and Arden looked up solemnly as the group returned through the thicket to the water's edge.  It was obvious that they wanted – and dreaded – to know what had happened. Tavi looked disinclined to speak.  _Still worried he's put Rose in danger by not killing them all_.  "We punished those who chose to fight," Mena said simply, "but those who were commanded to be there, we set free."  

Kormick grunted, a satisfied noise, and set about packing up supplies.  Tavi began cleaning his sword.

Mena noticed with a start that Savina's long hair had been hacked off:  it now hung raggedly around the girl's ears.  

"Child, what – ?" she began.  

"I am mourning the sacrifices we made for the gains we won," said Savina, at her most formal.  "Since I cannot wear traditional white mourning garments, I – I have decided on another gesture."

"I finally got to use my dagger," added Twiggy, flashing the blade she carried but never drew.  "I could have done a lot better with proper scissors, but …" 

"It's not supposed to look pretty," said Savina stoutly, although Mena guessed that Savina – being a nearly-sixteen-year-old girl – was nervous that it might be truly ugly. 

"It was well done," Mena told her.  She glanced at Rose, who, after looking up to hear of the derros' fate, had resumed staring at the water, unresponsive. She looked at Tavi, silently cleaning the blood from his sword, at Twiggy, at Savina.  _Gods, why should children be asked to shoulder such heavy burdens?_  She realized with a start that none of them could fairly be called children any more, not really, whatever their age.  _The sacrifices we made…_

They packed their camp with quiet efficiency, and as the sun's mid-morning rays spilled down, they turned their backs on the pond and set off on their long journey through the mountains to the road they'd abandoned nearly a month – and so many sacrifices – ago.


----------



## spyscribe

> While Mena, Kormick, Nyoko, and the dwarves waited to one side, Tavi stood before the derro and spoke in dwarven. "I am Signor Octavian di Raprezzi, and in accordance with the laws of the Sovereignty I charge you with the following crimes: highway robbery, kidnapping, false enslavement, assault upon the person of an Adept, attempted murder, and murder." He raised his eyebrows at Nyoko, asking if she had anything to add.




Ooo... I get chills just reading that.  Nice work.

Not until reading this write-up did I remember Nyoko's mixed feelings on the whole thing. On the one hand, having seen her entire caravan be murdered or worked to death, on top of what she suffered personally, Nyoko really believed that the derro deserved to die.  On the other, it's not like she _enjoys_ witnessing executions. Ugh.


----------



## Ilex

*11x03*



> *Excerpts from the notebook of Jan Kormick*
> 
> April 16 13 days of food
> Terrain:  Mountainous.
> 
> Setting out from the ex-Spring back toward the road.  To recap, the following are still miraculously not dead:
> 
> (1) Pampered city girl and entourage (consisting of brother, tutor, and lady-in-waiting who is better at creating apocalyptic fireballs than cutting hair).  Pampered city girl is unreasonably depressed about ex-Spring despite being (as aforementioned) not dead.
> 
> (2) Pampered city girl #2 a.k.a. dangerously naïve yet mysteriously inspiring Alirrian and entourage (consisting of murder-slave whose haircutting abilities remain untested because of the following arithmetic:  murder-slave + dagger + neck = cut throat, not close shave).  #2 is also more depressed about ex-Spring than we might expect from a girl who has just communed with an angel of her Goddess.
> 
> (3) Pampered city girl #3 a.k.a. Nyoko, a Sovereign performer-slash-archer-slash-law-related-person of some sort who is obsessed with hot baths in her hometown of Cauldron.  Sensibly not depressed about ex-Spring, however.
> 
> (4) 6 adult dwarves (2 pregnant).
> 
> (5) 5 dwarf kids (1 seven-year-old leader of his clan, 3 toddlers, 1 infant).
> 
> (6) Me.
> 
> Food is going to be a challenge.  So is covering distance.  We've made some sledges to help carry the kids, and the dwarves are game, but it's tough going.
> 
> Nyoko especially had a hard time hiking today (is the ordeal she's been through finally catching up with her?).  Arden had a hard time, too – boot saga continues.
> 
> 
> April 17 10 days of food (dwarves=ravenous bastards)
> Terrain:  Mountainous.  Again.
> 
> Urgent boot update:  generous gift of fancy enchanted boots now causing fewer blisters for slave's infinitely tender feet.  May all the gods be praised.
> 
> 
> April 18 7 days of food
> Terrain:  Three guesses.
> 
> Rough day, though irritatingly everyone else seems less tired than me.  Sleep now.
> 
> 
> April 19 4 days of food.
> Terrain:  Devious as a snitch.
> 
> Never before have I wished that a mountain range had kneecaps.
> 
> Remember how our map from the Questors is decorated with pretty blood-red X's indicating trouble?  Yes, we were approaching one of those.  I was up front with Savina, keeping my eyes open for trouble.  We were in a lightly forested hanging valley carved out between a couple of ridges – there was still some snow on the slopes above us, but we were tramping across gravelly soil with patches of bare granite interspersed with green grass and budding trees. The place was quiet except for birdsong and Savina rhapsodizing about the nature of springtime.  There was no sign of danger, in other words, until we went to pick up our feet for the next step and discovered that the rock had other ideas.  We were sinking:  it was quickrock.  As the lady-in waiting explained with maddening simplicity:  “like quicksand, but rock.”




Kormick hollered a warning, Savina shrieked, but it was too late:  the rest of the party had walked into the quickrock, too, and everyone was sinking – slowly but inexorably.

"Honored Justicar!" cried Nyoko, close behind Kormick.  He twisted his body to see her balancing like a dancer with one leg sinking and the other held above the surface, bent delicately, toe pointed.  "Your hands?" she asked.

Kormick laced his fingers together and she put her free foot into his hands.  Bracing herself, she backflipped out of danger, landing on solid ground.  The movement drove Kormick deeper into the quickrock – _But at least one of us will survive_, he thought grudgingly.

He grabbed for a tree limb above his head, but it snapped off in his hand.  "That one's dead," explained Savina, struggling nearby.  "You need green ones.  Like that one – and there – and there – "  She pointed to several overhanging limbs, all helpfully out of Kormick's grasp.

Arden, however, followed her mistress's finger, grabbed a strong limb, and pulled herself up onto it.  

There were blinking flashes as Rose and Twiggy _fey-stepped_ out of danger.  Kormick felt an old wistfulness for the magical skill he didn't possess.  _So many times that trick would have come in handy back at the Academy_, he thought.  _The promise of so many pranks unfulfilled… and the promise of not drowning in this double-crossing rock…_

Mena wrestled her legs through the rock by sheer force and slogged her way toward a tree until she could fall forward, grab a root, and drag herself out.  "Walk out!" she yelled.  "This is a ridiculous way to die!  _Walk_!"  Tavi lunged after her, pressing through the rock.  Kormick did the same, aiming for one of the overhanging branches that Savina had indicated.  The harder he pushed, the faster he sank, and it was close – _I'm either going to grab that limb with my fingertips or miss by the length of my thumbnail_ – but he made it, grabbing the branch with one hand and hauling himself inelegantly up into the tree.  

He jumped down to the ground and saw that Savina had lost at the same game – she'd tried to push her way toward a branch, but by the time she arrived, she'd sunk too deep to reach it.  Kormick expected her to burst into tears, but instead he saw her swallow hard and then – incredibly – look around to check on everyone else.  The dwarves were all in trouble.  Thurran was near the edge of the danger zone, but he was too little to help himself.  Nyoko climbed a tree close to him, edged out on a branch, and swung herself down until she could grab his hand and pull him out.

Savina called out, "Corani!  There's a root near you!  Reach for it!"  Her tone was strong, even commanding, and Corani appeared to obey without thought.  Kormick wondered what kind of mental resources the Alirrian priestess was channeling – _not only is she *not* panicking, she's taking charge_.  He also wondered how he could help her, but he was on the wrong side of the quickrock.

Twiggy cast _mage hand_, and the infant dwarf floated out of Sertani's arms and into Twiggy's.  Sertani, once she'd seen that the baby was safe, looked around for her own options.  Kormick strode along the edge of the quickrock, grasped a likely looking tree trunk, and leaned out to grab her hand.  He pulled Sertani to safety.  

Across the patch, Tavi did the same for one of the toddlers while Arden made her way out across the tree limb that Savina could no longer reach.  Hooking her legs over the branch, she swung down, grasped hands with her sinking mistress, and then squeezed her eyes shut with effort as Savina clambered up her body onto the tree branch, then reached down to help her up.  

Nyoko, meanwhile, tied a rope to an arrow and fired it into the rock near Vorret, the middle-aged ex-slave.  Nyoko bound the other end of the rope to a tree; then she began preparing a second arrow with a second rope.

Vorret, however, ignored the rope that had slapped into the rock next to him.  Instead, he struggled to reach Romek, the oldest of the ex-slaves, who had sunk up to his waist and was muttering irritably at Romek in Dwarven – Kormick didn't know what the old guy was saying, but he had a bad feeling that it was something infuriatingly heroic along the lines of "Leave me, save yourself."  

"Grab the rope!" shouted Mena, but Vorret shouted back and kept fighting uselessly toward Romek, sinking deeper with each motion.

"There's a rock near him!" cried Savina, pointing, and then shouted instructions to Romek in Dwarven.  The elderly dwarf turned, but the rock was several feet away, and his exhausted face showed resignation, not determination.  

Arden jumped from the tree she was in and landed in the next tree over.  She stepped out on a limb that Kormick, thanks to Savina's earlier tutelage, could guess was brittle.  

"No, Arden!" cried Twiggy, seeing the same danger.  "That branch is no good!"

Arden ignored her.  "Dame Mena, please tell Vorret to take the rope.  I'll get Romek."  She eased her way farther out over the quickrock until she was almost over Romek's head.

Mena translated, and Vorret darted his eyes from the rope, to Arden, to Romek, unsure – but at least he'd stopped struggling.

Arden lay down along the branch, grabbed hold with her legs and one hand, and extended her other arm to Romek.  He raised his hand to grasp hers.  The branch gave a _crack_ as it took his added weight, but it didn't break.  With a strained cry, Arden tugged, Romek grabbed her arm with his other hand and pulled, and – another _crack_ – suddenly they were both on the shivering branch, and somehow it hadn't broken.  

Nyoko shot ropes to all the remaining dwarves, who pulled themselves to safety.  Vorret hauled himself out, and with that, they were all standing on the edge of the danger zone, covered in quickrock that was drying and flaking off like gravel.

Kormick and Twiggy scouted the edges of the quickrock patch, and everyone helped pile up rock cairns to indicate its danger for future travelers.  _Bet the Questors will whine about us giving away the surprise death-trap_, Kormick thought, but he had to believe that any self-respecting Questor would rather be killed by a sycamore in a fair fight than dragged helplessly underground to eternal oblivion.  

They camped nearby, too tired to travel farther that day.  Kormick, Nyoko, Savina, and Twiggy went foraging, although Savina held back briefly, her eyes on Tavi.  "Do you want to come, Tavi?" she asked.  

"I'd better stay with Rose," he said.  Savina nodded with transparent disappointment, the poise she'd commanded during the crisis now absent.  _Ah, youth_, thought Kormick, _when nearly drowning in traitorous granite is so much less agony-inducing than the presence of a young man of ambivalent intentions._ 

Rose looked sad when Kormick, Tavi, and the others left.  She still looked sad a few hours later, when they returned with new ingredients for the chef Mertal's creativity.  Kormick was both unsurprised and unimpressed.  If Rose was going to refuse to consider the merits of his Good/Bad chart, he wasn't going to argue with her.  Like Savina, she was a teenager.  She had unreasonable priorities.

Mena, however, foolishly dove right into Rose's misery.  "How are you holding up?" she asked, as they all settled around the campfire that night.

"Well enough."  Rose stared into the fire.

"What's bothering you?"  This question earned Mena an "isn't it _obvious_?" gaze from Rose.  "Of course, I know," continued Mena, "but what is it specifically, tonight, and how can we fix it?"

Rose shrugged.  "I am simply concerned about the costs." 

"What _costs_?" demanded Kormick, forgetting his resolution to leave the unreasonable girl alone.  "Do you not remember the chart?  The only cost was the spring.  Or are you seriously suggesting that I move 'dead derro' over into the costs column?  Because I must disagree with you on that point."

"They were still living beings," said Rose.

"But they asked for it," Kormick heard Arden mutter to Twiggy.  He agreed, but Mena silenced him with a look and turned to Rose.

"There was no way there wouldn't be costs," she said.  "Sedellus doesn't allow free wins.  And doing nothing would have had a greater cost."

"I knew that," answered Rose, "but I didn't _understand_ it.  Now I can't stop thinking – how much worse will it get?"

"I don't know," said Mena.  "But my promise to you stands."

_What promise?_ Kormick wondered.  Judging by everyone's suddenly raised eyebrows and curious looks, he guessed he wasn't alone in wondering.  

Rose, however, offered no further clues.  "That's something," she said.

"It won't come to that," Mena declared.  "You have a goddess on your side, don't forget.  And this group of good people is on your side.  That says a lot for you."

Rose nodded and fell silent. 



> April 19 Addendum.
> 
> Remind me never to have teenage daughters.  Or, at least, never to have sensitive-hearted teenage daughters who are under curses from the Goddess of Death and therefore legitimately entitled to their depressing fatalism much as I may wish they would look on the bright side once in a while.


----------



## Markcrew1

*unbelievable truth!*



Fajitas said:


> Awwww. My players are the best obsessive, non-rich people in the world...
> 
> Can't wait to see how you guys write it all up.
> 
> For the curious among you, I will share three teaser-like facts:
> 
> 1) Roseanna is Giovanna's daughter
> 
> 2) Giovanna... is Lira
> 
> 3) The events described above actually happened in one of the last sessions of the original Halmae Campaign
> 
> This, you see, is why it's sometimes good to leave a few dangling plot threads unresolved...




Unbelievable truth! I could not even dare to think Giovanna - wow, oh!
Mark
my blog


----------



## Kat_Dawg33

*Mo' please!!!*

This is a fun read!  You sound like a great group and the campaign sounds brilliant.  Thank you for sharing.


----------



## Ilex

Thanks for the comments, folks!  Update follows...


----------



## Ilex

*11x04*

Nyoko was looking forward not only to hot baths and a return her home, but also—at an admittedly more shallow level—to new clothes.  Her current garments had so far survived the initial assault by the derro upon her caravan … enslavement in the mines … battle with the undead … and now near immersion in quickrock.  Truly, it was a testament to their maker that they had survived all that and still managed to fulfill the most basic requirements of modesty and rudimentary protection from the elements.  Luckily, in the middle of the wilderness, basic modesty and some warmth was all she really required of her wardrobe.  At least the heathens didn’t expect to see Adepts always perfectly dressed and coiffed, with immaculate face-paint and complete symbolic adornments.  On her last posting, Lord Orijo’s people so often behaved as though they had caught her naked if she answered the door to her chambers with her hairpin askew.  _As though we sleep like statues_, she thought, with mental eye-roll.

And if these heathens failed to grasp the true solemnity, or even purpose, of her role as an Adept –could they really be blamed, when she looked as shabby as they did? In unconscious habit, Nyoko’s right hand reached up to touch the tattoo on her neck.  There was a reason why Adepts wore their oaths on their skin.  _I am an Adept.  They cannot take that from me while I live._

_And I am alive_, Nyoko reminded herself firmly.  _Some days, that's adept enough._  With that, she felt better, and cheerfully traded ruminating on her own situation for studying the behavior of the heathens as they walked along through the forest. 

Savina was preoccupied by something.  That much seemed obvious from the evidence:  the girl's eyes were directed aimlessly into the trees, and she nearly stumbled over a root as Nyoko watched her.  Savina caught herself gracefully, but soon her eyes had drifted off again.  She wasn't picking up her feet very much, either – a sign of tiredness that, in addition to her apparent mental preoccupation, aggravated the risk that she'd trip again.  

Mena and Twiggy were whispering about something.  The whispering soon extended to encompass Arden, who mostly listened, nodding.  Then Mena made her way up the line of hikers next to Tavi, tapped his shoulder, and whispered to him.

Soon, the only people not included (besides the dwarves, who were walking in their own group a few paces behind) were Savina and Nyoko.  Savina, Nyoko hypothesized, hadn't even noticed the conference.  Nyoko found herself sorry to be left out, though she understood that these heathens still thought of _her_, ironically, as the foreigner.  

Then Twiggy was at her elbow, whispering.  "Nyoko-san, we're planning something special tonight.  It's Savina's birthday.  We're going to have a party, somehow.  Do you – " she hesitated suddenly.  "Wait – you _do_ have parties in the Sovereignty, don't you?"

Nyoko cocked an eyebrow, thinking of Hiroshi's wild drumming in the Adept dormitory while Aya and Kiku danced and Akio taught her a surprising new technique in a dim corner on the last night before she'd left … 

"Yes," she said mildly.  "We have parties."

"It's Savina's _sixteenth_ birthday," Twiggy added.  "Normally there'd be a huge event to celebrate her coming-of-age."

"A year early?" asked Nyoko, then caught herself as a dimly remembered bit of information surfaced in her brain.  “No, it is different for you, yes?”

"Yes, when you're sixteen, you're an adult … at least where we come from."

"Of course," said Nyoko, filing away this detail anew.  "In the Sovereignty, legal adulthood begins on the seventeenth birthday.  Naturally, I should be pleased to play music if we pass some likely looking reeds from which I may construct a flute.  It will be crude, but … "

"That would be lovely," said Twiggy.  "Don't tell Savina," she added, unnecessarily.  

Nyoko found the reeds.

That night, she caught a wink from Twiggy and, on cue, began to play a cheerful tune as Arden and Mertal, the dwarven chef, walked up to Savina, Arden carrying the cook-pot and Mertal a bowl and ladle.  Mertal dipped stew into the bowl and presented it to Savina with a flourish.    

"Happy birthday, young lady!" he proclaimed.  

Savina gasped delightedly.  "I didn't think anybody knew!" she said.

"We may be out in the wilderness, but we're not _completely_ uncivilized," said Twiggy, grinning, as she crowned Savina with a wreath of wildflowers.  

Mena gave Savina a warm hug.  "Happy birthday, young woman," she said.

Rose hugged Savina next.  "Welcome to being sixteen," she said.  "I can't say adult responsibility is all it's cracked up to be, but it's definitely… something."  She gave Savina a wry smile. 

"I – I'm learning that," Savina answered.  "I was thinking today … I can't believe that a couple months ago I was only worried about dresses and dance cards."  Rose squeezed her hand.

Tavi stepped up, his hummingbird flying figure eights above his head, and handed her small blue object.  "It's an Alirrian holy symbol," he explained.  "Twiggy helped me weave it from grass, and Phoebe found berries to dye it."

"I – oh – thank you, Tavi!"  Savina was beaming. Tavi leaned in quickly, kissed her on the cheek, and walked away, leaving Savina speechless.

In a flash of inspiration, Nyoko lowered the makeshift flute from her lips and spoke up.  "This," she announced, "is a traditional Sovereign _dancing_ song."  She raised the flute again and played the sprightly opening notes of "The Waltz that Pleased the Lord of the Junction of Three Rivers in Springtime."

Tavi, well-bred gentleman that he obviously was, knew what to do.  He turned back immediately and held his hand out to Savina.  "Would you honor me with your first birthday dance, Signora?" he asked.  Savina nodded, glowing, and stepped into his arms.  They twirled gracefully around the campfire.  Nyoko played on, happy that her own little coming-of-age present to Savina had succeeded so well … even though the girl was technically _still_ a girl for another year under Sovereign law.

Mertal and Ordren soon joined in, and the dwarven children cavorted happily around the two couples.

Rose suddenly stood and walked over to Kormick.  "Goodman Kormick," she said, "may I request the honor of a dance?"

Nyoko nearly missed a note; she had to fight back a squeak of laughter at the Justicar's surprise.  "Oh, no no," he said.  "I don't dance – "

"I happen to know that they teach dancing at the Sorcerers' Academy," said Rose dryly.

"I did not have the _greatest_ of success at the Academy, you know."

"It’s not exactly theoretical thaumaturgy.  You just dance.  It's a party, and you're the only adult male here besides my brother.  So… lucky you." 

"It is smarter to be lucky than smart," Kormick observed.  He stood up, took Rose's hand, and led her into the firelight.  They joined the other dancers, and Nyoko was somewhat startled to see that the Justicar, for all his protests, was an acceptable dancer.  Not, by any means, a _good_ dancer – a rank amateur by Adept standards – but acceptable.

Later that night, as Arden finished laying out the dreamy-eyed birthday girl's bedroll and Kormick and Tavi prepared to stand the first watch, Mena came up to Nyoko.  "Thank you," she said softly.  "It was good to see Rose having fun."  

"It was my pleasure," answered Nyoko with a small bow.




> *Excerpts from the notebook of Jan Kormick*
> 
> April 21 3 1/2 days of food
> Terrain:  Mountainous.
> 
> Most of us slept late, and we decided to take the day off.  I went foraging with Mena, Twiggy, and Arden – we had good luck.
> 
> Later, Savina and Tavi took off on a "walk" together (many smiles and knowing winks behind their backs as they vanished among the trees) … but the would-be lovebirds came back separately.  He was aloof and she – despite her best efforts to hide it – looked like a kicked puppy.  Someone should tell that boy to man up and _give in_ to his baser instincts when a pretty girl looks at him that way.  Duty is duty, but a little fun won’t bring the world to an end.
> 
> —Usually.  Obviously, there are exceptions.
> 
> But of the women in our group, Savina isn't the _most_ likely to become the apocalypse.  Just saying.
> 
> 
> April 22 12 days of food
> Terrain:  See above re: Mountainous.
> 
> Uneventful hiking day, but an interesting development.  I cannot have failed to convey the bizarrely restrained nature of these kids of late.  Rose is moody; Tavi displays unnatural self-control in the face of a teenage Alirrian seductress … yet above and beyond these examples of human dourness stand Dame Mena and Arden, both of whom can go days without a crack in their implacable icy masks of grimness.
> 
> So imagine my surprise when I heard _laughter_ from Mena and Arden, just out of sight in the trees at the rear of our caravan.  By the time they came into sight, they were silent – Mena grim-faced and Arden humbly solemn as usual.  But like a frozen stream in winter – there's life under there somewhere.
> 
> Stranger still, after our evening meal, Mena jumped up and started cleaning the dishes – and Arden sat back and let her do it.  Savina asked what was going on, and Mena said she was giving Arden a break.
> 
> I've got a theory:  Mena lost a bet.  An Undian knows, yes?  And the look on Arden's face was not, shall we say, _unlike_ the edgy satisfaction of a rascal who put all her copper coins on a scrawny excuse for a horse that somehow, against all odds, made it to the line first.
> 
> 
> April 23 9 days of food
> Terrain: Could it be…?  Yes…??  Mountainous!  Have a gold piece, you're very smart.
> 
> Long, steep day.
> 
> 
> April 24 6 days of food
> Terrain: Urrghh.
> 
> Today while foraging, Savina told me, very sincerely, "In some ways, you're very nice."
> 
> So there you go.
> 
> Later, came back to camp to discover Mena, Arden, and the dwarven ex-slaves sitting around the fire chattering away like old friends, Mena translating.  The group broke up quickly as we foragers returned.  A shame that Arden and the ex-slaves have ceased their game of "I'll bow lower!"  "No, I'LL bow lower!"  "Oh, however am I to keep up with your magnificent subservience?!" … because that was hilarious.
> 
> 
> April 25 7 days of food
> Terrain: Dare I say it, not entirely mountainous.
> 
> Yesterday while foraging, Nyoko spotted a path leading by easy stages down a valley toward plains beyond, which we can glimpse occasionally below us through the trees.  We took that path today.  About time.
> 
> 
> April 27 9 days of food
> Terrain: Meadow in valley.
> 
> Second day in a row of rest (for me), while many of the others hunted and plucked plants, etc.  I am unspeakably satisfied with my choice.
> 
> The girls took turns bathing in the stream, Nyoko styled Savina's hair – the Sovereign is more skilled at waiting on ladies, it seems, than our Hennan lady-in-waiting – and nearby, Tavi and I put our feet up by the coals of the fire and dozed in the sun.  Not a bad day to be Kormick.
> 
> 
> April 28 13 days of food
> Terrain: Grasslands.
> 
> We finally made it out of the foothills and down onto the grassy plain.  Naturally, that also means we have come close to another of those red Xs on the Dangerous Map of Danger:  the Xs that indicate "This way to the spiraling madness."
> 
> We did spot a rockslide in the distance, but so far, that was it.
> 
> 
> April 29 10 days of food
> Terrain: Grasslands.
> 
> The most danger we've faced today is that I twisted my ankle.  I am deeply suspicious that the Ketkath is going to let us get away this easily… but just maybe …


----------



## coyote6

Kormick's notebook said:


> The most danger we've faced today is that I twisted my ankle. I am deeply suspicious that the Ketkath is going to let us get away this easily… but just maybe …




Whoops, you're all doomed.


----------



## Ilex

*11x05*

The next day, Savina awoke hopeful.  She was sixteen, and it was a new day.  She touched her short hair, and remembered its solemn symbolism, but still, she felt more optimistic than she had in weeks.  Sure enough, not long after they set out walking, they saw the river, a shifting gleam near the horizon across the plains.  Along its banks, still lost to sight, was the main road from Lord's Edge to Cauldron.  Another day of walking would bring them there.  

Kormick stomped along and muttered that certain death unquestionably lay hidden like a thief in the grass between them and the road.  Arden kept glancing edgily back toward the area of the distant rockslide, and Mena stalked forward with her hand never leaving her sword hilt… but Savina felt herself relaxing. The river in the distance gave her hope.  So did Nyoko's exciting descriptions of Cauldron, with its exotic markets and steaming baths.  The party had decided to travel with Nyoko as far as her home city, where she'd promised them the hospitality of her order while they decided upon their next move. 

But Savina didn't only feel hopeful because she could glimpse safety – and creature comforts – in her future.  She felt hopeful because of the _past_, too.  The last time she had seen the river, she had been a girl in silk slippers.  Since then, she had learned how to forage and hunt in wild lands, how to sleep through normal woodland night noises and start awake at dangerous ones.  She had learned how to stand up to a Justicar.  She had learned that sometimes, defending life required taking life, and she had learned that such facts could be accepted, though never comfortably.  She had also opened her eyes to new aspects of her goddess – not just the friendly Alirria of the Temple's beautiful gardens, but the untamed Alirria of trees so tall they blocked the sun, of an endless thundering waterfall out of a mountain lake, of thorny vines and electrical deer, of an angel rising out of a sacred spring to speak prophecy in the midst of battle.  Savina's girlish silk slippers were long gone.  Now, she was a woman in worn boots.

_Surely_, she thought, in defiance of Kormick, Arden, and Mena's pessimism, _we've proven we can handle the worst that can happen.  The rats, the orbs, the apes… the tree … the tunnels, the derro, the undead priestesses … the battle of the spring … Tavi …._ 

Tavi had rejected her.  She'd taken hours to gather her courage to ask him directly if he liked her.  She had dared to think they were far enough from home – from family obligations and diplomatic demands – to think, just a little, of pleasing themselves.  Tavi had simply shaken his head and said that he couldn't risk compromising his duty to Rose with other distractions.  

"Well," Savina had answered, fighting for words through an internal storm of sadness, embarrassment, hurt, anger – _I'm a "distraction"? – does that mean he doesn't like me at all…? If I were prettier, would he…?  If I were more like Dianora…?_  Her cheeks burning and her heart hammering in her ears, she had pulled herself together as best she could and made herself meet Tavi's eyes.  "If you ever change your mind," she'd said, "you know where to find me."

Yes, they'd proven they could handle the worst the Ketkath could throw at them.

And, as it turned out, she was right.  It took them two days to get there, because they paused once more to hunt for food, but on the first day of May, their bedraggled party scrambled triumphantly down the embankment onto the hard-packed road.  They were greeted by suspicious looks from a trio of traders who spurred their horses faster and were soon lost to sight around a bend.  A little farther away, travelers on a barge working its way down the river stared as well.  Savina waved.  They didn't wave back.

"Let me check once more to be sure," said Kormick.  "Are we confident no one's dead?  No one's missing a limb?  Ensorcelled?  Suffering from rat bites?  Oak madness?  Gout?  No?  We are truly all standing here in decent health?"

Even Rose smiled.  They'd made it.  

Sertani, the dwarven matriarch, spoke up. "I believe that this is where we part ways."

"Where will you go?" asked Savina.  

"My family and I will travel from here to Lord's Edge along the road."

"Do you have sufficient funds?" asked Mena.

"Our family name will probably allow us to claim some credit," Sertani answered, failing to disguise a little uncertainty in her voice.  

Savina was quite sure she knew how to solve that particular problem, and she was also quite sure that she wasn't going to let Kormick stop her.  "You should have some of the derro's gold," she declared.  "It's yours as much as ours." 

She glanced defiantly at the Justicar, but Kormick, for once, was _not_ rolling his eyes at her.  _He really *does* understand justice, deep down_, Savina thought.  She gave Sertani gold and gems worth two hundred gold pieces.

Corani stepped forward with uncharacteristic humility.  “Thank you for stopping when you saw the smoke from my fire.  We could not save my husband, but saving Zirkai and myself . . .” she patted her belly, so swollen that it seemed she would give birth at any moment.  “This will be the second to last of his children.”

Savina put a comforting hand on Corani’s shoulder.  “May the Goddess bless you and bring health to the entire Rockminder clan.”  Corani smiled.  

Kormick stepped forward to face Thurran.  The little boy drew himself up straight and tall and grinned proudly at the Justicar.  

"It's been an honor to serve with you," Kormick told him, as Savina translated.  "I look forward to visiting you Rockminders in twenty or thirty years to see what you've made of yourselves."

Thurran attempted to answer with due solemnity.  "I look forward to your visit," he said.  "But you could come – sooner – if you want." 

Kormick grinned.  "I'll do my best," he said, and clapped Thurran on the shoulder.

Finally, as the dwarves shouldered their packs, Arden walked up to the four ex-slaves.  With Mena as her translator, she said, "May you fare very well.  Thank you for – thank you for showing me honor.  Thank you for _everything_."

"We would follow you, you know," answered Vorret.

"And I thank you for that, too.  But I would have you go home to your own people."

"You may contact us through the Rockminders."

Arden smiled at them, a sincere, friendly smile without irony or subservience.  "I'll never forget you," she said. 

The dwarves bowed.  Arden nodded her head in response, turned, and walked away.  With a shuffling of packs and a few last calls of farewell, the dwarves began their march back to Lord's Edge.  Savina and the others stood and watched them for a long moment.  

"My best guess is that we are near the midpoint between way stations," said Nyoko softly, in deference to the solemn mood.  "We can reach the next by nightfall."

Quietly, they turned their backs to the dwarves and set off.  The hard, even surface of the road felt both alien and familiar under Savina's feet – like a memory from her childhood – as they walked west into the sunlight, toward The City in the Cauldron of the Lord’s Sleeping Fury.


----------



## ellinor

*12x01*

As they walked westward, the trees lining the road rustled in the wind.  Twiggy admired their newly-grown leaves.  _Beeches and maples, mostly, some pines, some mangroves by the river, and that tree that looks like cedar, but has cones like a cypress…_  Part of her was glad to be back on the easily-traveled road—“The Follow Road,” they called it, abbreviating its sentence-long Sovereign monstrosity of an official name—but part of her missed the wilderness, where her knowledge of nature had won her the group's trust and respect.  _On the road,_ Twiggy knew, _I’m a lady-in-waiting again._

But you *are* a lady-in-waiting, Acorn reminded her.

_That’s not the point, Acorn._ 

Before leaving the forests, the group had (with Nyoko’s guidance) adjusted their appearances to be less conspicuous.  Twiggy had _prestidigitated_ away the adornments on Savina’s armor; Mena’s armor had (reluctantly, but silently) shifted itself to obscure the Defiers’ symbol on its breastplate.  With those precautions taken, Twiggy was surprised at how little attention the group drew on the road.  They were certainly an unusual group—several “heathens” traveling with an uncharacteristically disheveled Sovereign—but if their little cadre attracted particular notice, none of their fellow-travelers showed it.  There were two kinds of people who travel the road, Nyoko had said: “those who look down their noses, and those who just look down.”  

Overall, the road was well-tended and scenic, following the twists and turns of the river.  They passed long placid stretches and violent rapids.  They made decent time, reaching a small inn in the early afternoon.  The inn had no name on the door, just a Sovereign symbol—seven linked rings arrayed in a circle.  Two young men, each wearing a longsword and a dagger, guarded its doorway.  Nyoko explained that this was normal:  State-owned way-stations like this were located all along the Follow Road, roughly a day’s travel apart from each other.  The military kept them safe from the dangers of the surrounding Ketkath.  

After a brief discussion, the group decided to put off the remainder of the day’s travel in exchange for kitchen-cooked food, a real bed, something resembling a bath, and the knowledge that they’d reach an inn a day from here on out.

As they walked in, the two soldiers eyed the group suspiciously.  “Honored Adept,” they said in near-unison, bowing.  Although they allowed the group in, their eyes flashed between the tattoo on her neck—a prominent indicator of her elevated status—and her distinctly non-Sovereign cohort.  

The proprietor of the inn had a similar reaction.  “It has been some time since we had an Adept at our little establishment,” he began, as he rose from his bow.  “Will you and your . . . companions . . . be joining us for the evening?”

Nyoko did the talking as Twiggy looked around.  The inn had a large common room, sparsely populated by a few off-duty soldiers.  She was sure the room would fill up with travelers as evening fell.  The proprietor showed them up to a large bunk-room containing ten straw-filled cots. 

“Is this suitable, Signor Octavian-San?” asked Nyoko.

_Cots!  Straw-filled!_  Twiggy marveled at how something so humble could seem like such a luxury.  _A month and a half of cloaks on the ground, and she wants to know if it’s suitable.  A far cry from the feather-filled pillows at the Estate, but still . . ._ 

“It will do,” replied Tavi, with a slight smile.

It was simple, and clean.  The idea of spending a night without bugs crawling through her hair made Twiggy feel giddy—and not just through the empathic bond she shared with Acorn.  She sat, tentatively, on the edge of a cot, afraid that if she laid down, she would fall right asleep.

I was promised a bath, Acorn reminded her.

Before bathtime—and more importantly, before the two remaining beds in their room were filled—the group divided the gold and valuables among themselves, so no single pack contained everything.   Savina, who had been carrying most of the wealth, distributed it to everyone except Arden.

“What about Arden?” asked Mena, simply.

“It is true that Arden cannot own property,” Twiggy said, thoughtfully, “but she can carry it.”

Savina barely looked up.  “That does not mean she should.”

“Why shouldn’t she?”  asked Mena.  “She has risked her life for it, as we have.”

Savina seemed puzzled. “But that’s her job.”

To Twiggy’s surprise, Kormick jumped in.  “Her job is carrying the tent and cooking the meals, no?  And yet she has also been killing and bleeding and binding wounds with the fabric of her own cloak.”

Savina looked unconvinced.

“Would it not be safer if she took a share?”  Twiggy continued, trying a different line of logic.  “No one will think to look in the bags of a slave.”

Savina relented, handing Arden a pouch of gold and gems.  “Keep it safe,” she said.  

“Yes, Blessed Daughter,” responded Arden, burying it in her pack amongst the cooking implements.

Arden had sat quietly throughout the discussion, and did not betray any emotion now.  _She is a part of the group,_ Twiggy thought, _and has risked life and limb as much as any of us.  Why should she not be treated as a free person?_

Because she’s not a free person, Acorn responded, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.  Now about that bath…

The bath was far from opulent, but it had warm water.  Twiggy lingered until the water became cold, soaking her muscles and feeling the places where the derro had cut her.  

Acorn very nearly refused to get out.

By the time everyone had bathed, two Sovereign merchants had arrived to fill the remaining cots, and the group (each now careful to secure their valuables) went to the common room to eat.  As expected, it had begun to fill with merchants and travelers.

The food was adequate, if (to Twiggy’s palate) unusually spiced.  It did not, however, come with silverware.  In a tone and manner usually reserved for small, slow children, Nyoko demonstrated how to use the little sticks to lift the food.  It wasn’t that hard for Twiggy, but not everyone took to it.  Tavi eventually resorted to stabbing the pieces of meat with the ends of his sticks, and Arden discreetly picked up bits with her fingers.  Nyoko shook her head and sighed.

“That symbol above the door,” Twiggy asked between bites, “what does it mean?”

“The ringed circle is the symbol of the Sovereign state,” Nyoko explained.  “There are seven rings—The Adepts, the Inquisition, Borders, Peerage, Military, Lands, Priesthood—and they are arrayed in a circle.  The Priesthood is up the circle from the Adepts, and the Inquisitors are down the circle . . .”

“Sovereign government is an example of how to induce bureaucratic gridlock,” interjected Mena, amiably.  “Every group has power over the two below it, ensuring that no group can ever attain absolute authority—and keeping all the major players so busy plotting against each other that they can’t plot against the system itself.  Makes the Pol Hennan system look straightforward.”

If Nyoko was offended by the characterization, she didn’t show it.

“Where does the King fit in?”  Twiggy asked.

“He’s not a King, he’s the Lord High Regent, may his reign be long and prosperous,” Nyoko reminded her.  “He is the final Arbiter of Kettenek’s will on Earth, and the spiritual successor to Rikitaru.”

It was obvious that this was going to require a good deal more explaining.  But before they had a chance to get further into it, the innkeeper approached.

“Honored Adept,” he said, again eyeing the group with suspicion, “may I inquire as to how you came to be here?”

His question was filled with layers of meaning, but Nyoko answered straightforwardly.  “I had a misfortune on the road.  I was attacked.  These people helped me.  Now I am returning to Cauldron.”  

The innkeeper was clearly deeply offended by the idea that someone might attack an Adept, and offered to use the military personnel stationed here to send a message ahead to Nyoko’s order in Cauldron.  She accepted his offer, and—in an apparent show of gratitude—reluctantly agreed to his request that she entertain those in the common room.  

“I would be happy to perform,” she protested, “but you must understand that I cannot be properly dressed.  I was robbed on the road.  I do not have my ceremonial garments or adornments.”

“We have no adornments to offer you,” replied the innkeeper, “but will be . . . pleased just to hear your music, honored Adept.”  His speech was more halting than before, but still inviting.  It was clear that he would prefer her to wear proper attire – whatever that was—but whether it was because of tradition or because he was appalled at the idea of someone robbing an Adept, Twiggy could not tell.  Nyoko smoothed her hair back into a ponytail, straightened her robe, and walked to a small platform near the corner of the room.

The evening passed quietly, as Nyoko played the flute and sang, her melancholy tunes telling tales of travelers, nobles, heroes.

After dinner and tea and some small glasses of very pleasant dessert wine, they retired to the room and tucked themselves into the soft safety of their cots.  Arden and Mena stayed up to keep watch.  _Although why we’d need to keep watch at an Inn, with soldiers stationed at the door and people in the rooms around us…_ Twiggy thought, as she drifted off.


----------



## ellinor

*12x02*

Mena enjoyed being on watch with Arden, and she knew that Arden enjoyed it, also.  Being on watch meant they could talk, or laugh, or share a quiet moment.  For all the fuss made about Arden being a slave—_slavery.  What an arrogant, Bitch-favored instition_—Arden had more sense than most.  Maybe it was that she wasn’t a teenager.  Maybe it was the weight of whatever secret she seemed to be keeping.   Mena glanced at Arden across the room.  _Yes, keeping a secret, though she does it well.  I wonder what it is._  But she wouldn't find out tonight.  Tonight—being indoors—was by necessity a “quiet moment” night.  

Until there was a clacking noise at one of the windows.  Clacking, then chittering, like insects.    Arden heard it first and pointed silently to the place where the sound originated.  Mena stepped closer to the window and saw what looked like a large beetle.  A _very_ large beetle.  Mena had seen smaller lapdogs when the Pol Hennan fashions ran to canine accoutrements.

“Nyoko!”  she whispered, touching the Adept softly on the shoulder.  Nyoko stirred awake.  “Nyoko—”  Mena pointed at the giant bug on the window-frame “—is that normal?”

“No,” said Nyoko.  “It is definitely not normal.”

_So much for a quiet moment._

“Everybody up!”  Mena hollered, as the clacking grew louder.  

Suddenly, the window broke, and it seemed there were bugs everywhere.  They swarmed into the room through the window, through cracks in the walls and the floor, underneath the doorjamb, like a great tide of clicking, chittering jaws and probing legs…

And they were all heading straight for Rose.  _Just like the rats_, Mena thought, as she stomped and swatted.  _The wildlife in these mountains needs a firm talking to._  The beetles were surprisingly resilient and—GODSDAMMIT!—they bit.  Hard.  Mena stabbed a large beetle with the point of her sword and it burst.  _There.  Much better._  “Kill them!”  she shouted.  “Remember the rats!”

Twiggy—who had been swatting angrily at her covers—sat up in her bed and concentrated.  An orb of force formed before her and flew toward the beetles, mowing through several on its way out the window.  Goo from the beetles flew everywhere.  “Ew! Ew! Ew!” screamed Savina, flailing wildly at her bedclothes.  The two Sovereign merchants cowered in the corner by the window, quivering and crying.  _They haven’t trained for this,_ Mena reminded herself.  _I shall try not to hold their uselessness against them._

Rose, her eyes wide as she found herself surrounded by beetles, disappeared for a moment, teleporting to the inner corner of the room.  At once, the swarming beetles changed direction to find her.  But now, there were friends between the bugs and her.  At first she froze in alarm as she watched new bugs appear through cracks in the floor and the wall behind her.  But as they began to climb into her hair and dress, she began to sweep away at them with her hands.  She was obviously struggling—and succeeding—to avoid killing them as she swept them away.

Of course, the bugs took no note of her mercy.  One squeezed past Whisper's protective wings and bit Rose on the neck.  Then they came more furiously, and one on the wall spit some sort of fluid at her face.  She yelped in pain.  Another bit her, and she cried out:  “I can’t move!”  Mena surged towards the girl but couldn't get past the bugs to reach her.  "Hold on, Rose!" she yelled.

Nyoko batted at the bugs with her bow as they spit at her, as well.  “Acid!”  she cried, crushing the bugs around her.  Kormick pounded several with his warhammer.  But still, they kept coming, chittering, snapping, swarming over the cots.  Mena felt the immobilizing poison seize her, and she fell over, now as useless as the wimpering merchants still cowering untouched in their corner.  Beside her, Arden was knocked prone as well.  Rose cried out and climbed atop one of the cots as more of the giant beetles reached her, spitting their acid at her face and arms.  _So some bite, some have acid, and some immobilize,_ Mena recapped, inwardly.  _Very clever, Twilight Lurker. _

“Alirria, protect us!”  Savina cried.  The girl was pressed against a wall, next to Tavi, brushing at her skirts in disgust—but with that prayer, Mena felt her strength return.   She and Arden stood up at once, surrounded a swarm, and dispatched it.  

Suddenly, Twiggy stood up on her cot and erupted in flame.  The room paused for half a moment in mid-battle.  _Well.  That's a new trick,_ Mena thought.  “Stop it stop it stop it!”  cried Twiggy, in a rare show of petulance.  The flames spread out from behind her like a great cape, and swept across the room, setting fire to the straw beds, the walls…and the bugs.  With sizzling pops, the smaller bugs exploded, and several larger ones flipped over, seared and helpless.  She chanted another spell, and several of the beetles seemed to become disoriented, moving in circles.  It seemed for a moment that it might be over.

“That cleared the field a bit,” said Tavi—but there were still more coming, through the floors and the walls.  In one fluid move, he thrust his sword into the bunk he was standing next to and disappeared.  Instantly, he appeared again, where Rose had been.  “Oh!”  exclaimed Savina, as Rose appeared beside her.  The beetles changed direction again, but there were fewer now.  Kormick bashed at a large one—it was still on fire from Twiggy’s _fire shroud_—and Mena, Nyoko, and Arden stabbed anything that moved.  One large beetle burst as if from nowhere on the wall behind Rose, and bit her hard on the neck.  Rose fell, kneeling, on the bed, and the beetle clattered to the floor.  A shower of feet stomped on it and it burst.  

To Mena’s relief, Savina immediately turned to tend to Rose’s neck, and the wound seemed to be healing.  In fact, it seemed relief might be in order more generally:  Mena cold not see any more movement, but it was hard to tell anything, with the two merchants screaming in the corner.  She turned a savage gaze on them.  “If you can't be useful, be quiet!”  she barked, and they complied.  She resisted the urge to assign them the nicknames “Whiny” and “Useless.”

But it did, indeed, seem like the emergency was over.  The curtains and bedclothes smoldered, and the air was acrid with smoke and sweat.  

Two soldiers appeared at the now-splintered door.  One coughed and glowered, muttering,  “should have expected something strange, such a large group of heathens . . .”  The other began to inspect the wreckage.  “What in the world—“

Nyoko stepped forward and addressed the soldiers.  “We were attacked by bugs.  We rebuffed them.”  _An understatement,_ thought Mena, _but true._ 

The soldiers nodded—almost bowing—and their demeanors changed immediately.  “Thank you for witnessing, Honored Adept,” said one, and the other offered their own barracks to all the residents of the charred room.  Nyoko accepted, graciously.

Mena thought she was finally beginning to understand what, exactly, an Adept does.

As they pulled their things together, they asked Nyoko whether she had heard of anything else like this happening along the Follow Road.

“Strange events are hardly uncommon on a road that borders the Ketkath,” responded Nyoko, “but this is not natural, even for the Ketkath.”

Twiggy agreed.  “It must be some sort of magic.  We should look it up when we get to Cauldron.”  She paused.  “There are libraries in Cauldron, aren’t there?”

“Yes,” Nyoko replied, sighing, “there are libraries.”

Everyone returned to their packing.  “The rats were near the road as well,” Arden said to Mena, as they were walking from the room.  “It must have something to do with the road.  Something knows we’re here,” she suggested.

“Something indeed,” replied Mena.  She and Arden exchanged a grim look but said no more for now.

As they walked to the barracks, Mena overheard Savina talking with Rose.  “Do you think we can get our money back?”  Savina asked. 

“You saw what we left of that room,” replied Rose, with a wan smile.  “What I think is that we should tip the soldiers who are letting us stay in their barracks.” 

They spent the remainder of the night in the soldiers’ barracks with Whiny and Useless.

###

In the morning, as they purchased small packages of dried meats and fruit for the day’s journey, the innkeeper was still flustered from the events of the night before.  “I cannot explain it,” he kept saying, over and over.

Nyoko distracted him with a question.  “Any news of Cauldron?”

“Nothing of note,” he replied.  “Or nothing important enough to make its way out to our little post.”

“What of the health of the Lord High Regent?”  Nyoko continued.  

“He is well attended by Lady Akiko-san.  May Kettenek the Life-Giver continue to watch over him.”

Nyoko heard Savina-san whisper, a few feet away, “_Kettenek_the Life-Giver?”  Nyoko knew she’d have to explain, later.

They set out on the road, making a good pace.  Around noon, they passed a cart of merchants carrying Sovereign clothes and makeup.  Nyoko was relieved to see that they had something that would pass—inelegantly, but adequately—for the robes and makeup of an Adept.  She felt a certain vindictive joy at being able to purchase new robes with gold retrieved from the derro.

The day passed quickly.  As they walked, Twiggy-san resumed her interrogations about Sovereign forms of government.  Nyoko explained, as patiently as she could, while Twiggy fired questions and Kormick scribbled furiously in his notebook.  The Lord High Regent is the head of the government.  He lives in The Blessed and Most Holy City Marked By the Lord’s Divine Favor--Divine Mark—the capital of the Sovereignty.  He is old, but we pray Kettennek will continue to keep him in good health.  His heir is Lady Akiko Nori.  Now, she is the head of the Inquisitors.  When the Lord High Regent dies, may his reign be long and prosperous, Lady Akiko-san will take his place.  And so on.

“And what is his relationship to the rings and the circle?”  Twiggy asked, for what seemed like the third time.

“He is the final Arbiter of Kettenek’s will on earth.”  _There is a song about that,_ Nyoko thought, humming inwardly.  _They probably wouldn’t appreciate the nuance._

“So… he’s not in one of the rings,” Twiggy asked.

“No.  He is concerned with greater matters,” Nyoko answered.  “The Affirmation, for example. 

“You’ve used that word before,” Twiggy pressed, “but I still do not know exactly what you mean.”

Nyoko observed again, inwardly, how little these heathens seemed to know about the Sovereignty.   “The Affirmation.  It’s short for ‘The Decree Affirming the Divine Nature of the Saints and Allowing their Just and Legal Worship.'  This was years ago.  The Lord High Regent issued the edict that legalized worship of Alirria, Ehkt, and Sedellus.  It was a significant change in the law.  The Lord High Regent appointed Lady Akiko-san to enforce the edict, which was not met with universal pleasure by many in the Priesthood and Inquisition.” 

“So he put his daughter in charge of the Inquisitors?” asked Twiggy.

“No,” Nyoko clarified, “Not exactly.  Lady Akiko-san was a commoner who rose to great achievement in the service of a noble who was close to the Lord High Regent.  When that noble died, Lady Akiko-san swore fealty to the Lord High Regent and became his trusted right hand.  He named her as his successor and as leader of the Inquisition.  It is a great honor—and an inspirational theme for poets and composers—but also a difficult role in these times.”

“These times?”  

Nyoko nodded.  “There remains some opposition to the Affirmation.”

They reached the next way-station shortly before nightfall, and dined.  This time, Nyoko tied together the tops of Signor Octavian-san’s chopsticks, as one does with a child, and he had little difficulty.  Arden was another story: Although Savina had ordered her to learn to use them, the joints in her fingers—weakened from being broken long ago—simply would not cooperate.  Nyoko asked the innkeeper to bring a spoon.  Arden smiled.

That night, Nyoko performed, wearing her new robes and traditional white makeup.  _Everyone is more comfortable this way,_ she thought, as she sang the great histories and tales of brave travelers.  



> Excerpt from the official report of Nyoko to the Adepts of the Lord’s Favored Arts:
> 
> After the second night, we traveled along the Follow Road for two weeks.  We stayed in way-stations each night.  On our fourth night on the Road, there was a small altercation between a Thanean man and a dwarf.  We were not involved.  In all other respects, the journey was unremarkable.




The land became more and more familiar to Nyoko as they crossed a small bridge and began the steep climb up to The City in the Cauldron of the Lord’s Sleeping Fury.  The name—like all Sovereign names—was descriptive:  the city rested in the crater of a dormant volcano.  Its great outer wall sat atop the mountain as if the mountain were wearing a crown.  As they climbed, the road curved up the mountain, rising to a gate in the wall.  Nyoko could smell the city now, a smell she hadn’t known she’d missed—the aroma of sulfur and warm ground.  Vendors arrayed themselves at the gate, selling perfumes and unguents for those unfamiliar with the scent.  The others bought some.  Nyoko was happier without.

They reached the great gate just as the sun touched the horizon, turning the sky bright pinks and golds.  There, just ahead, was her city, its concentric streets descending towards its great, steaming lake.  Home.


----------



## Ilex

> Arden was another story: Although Savina had ordered her to learn to use them, the joints in her fingers—weakened from being broken long ago—simply would not cooperate. Nyoko asked the innkeeper to bring a spoon.




Fajitas had us make skill checks for the chopsticks.  I rolled a 1 the first night.

Then I rolled a 1 the second night...

...at which point we learned that Arden's fingers must've been broken in the past, leaving her with plenty of manual DEX for lockpicking but with insufferable stiffness in _precisely_ those joint-movements that a person specifically needs for chopsticks... 

It was actually kind of excellent.


----------



## coyote6

With the various bits of news I've seen, I suddenly want a Halmae comic. 

Kettenek's Justice demands it, if I'm not mistaken.


----------



## StevenAC

ellinor said:


> Suddenly, Twiggy stood up on her cot and erupted in flame.  The room paused for half a moment in mid-battle.  _Well.  That's a new trick,_ Mena thought.



So, if Twiggy has just developed _fire shroud_, presumably the party as a whole is just reaching level 3 about now?

On another topic, I've added another two chapters (sessions 10 & 11) to the _A Rose in the Wind_ story hour site.  Enjoy!


----------



## Ilex

StevenAC said:


> So, if Twiggy has just developed _fire shroud_, presumably the party as a whole is just reaching level 3 about now?
> 
> On another topic, I've added another two chapters (sessions 10 & 11) to the _A Rose in the Wind_ story hour site.  Enjoy!




That... is an excellent question.  I don't remember.  But someone will.  (Help?  Someone?)

And many, many thanks, once again, for archiving the story hour.  Seriously, it's so cool.  



coyote6 said:


> I suddenly want a Halmae comic.
> 
> Kettenek's Justice demands it, if I'm not mistaken.




There at least need to be cameos, right??  Surely, at least, some jovial Justicar with a kneebreaking gleam in his eye should wander through the background?


----------



## ellinor

*good news/bad news*

*The bad news:*  No update today.

*The good news:*  There will be an update soon!  

StevenAC:  I second the thanks for all your excellent PDF work.   You are correct in assuming that we had hit level 3 shortly before session 12.  And I must say, I was delighted with the effectiveness of the _fire shroud_!    

To keep you up to date with where we are in the timeline--as of a couple of weeks ago, the characters are now at level 6.  So there's lots more story to come!


----------



## ellinor

*Update on the update*

The update is STILL coming soon -- promise! -- but in the meantime, please enjoy this special sneak preview of the session we played last night.  (Session 20, for those keeping count).



> "Kormick shrugged.  'No problem,' he said.  'I'll just ask around and find out who's ordering excessive amounts of booze, quail eggs,  dancing girls, and those weird masks with the pointy noses.'"


----------



## ellinor

*12x03*

Please, Chelesta, don’t make me go in there, Acorn begged, attempting to burrow deeper into Twiggy’s pocket, away from the gate to Cauldron.  It stinks! 

Twiggy moved him to her bodice, where she thought he might be a bit more sheltered from the odor.  _I agree, Acorn, Cauldron is not the best-smelling city in the world, but—_

Not the best? the mouse interrupted.  It’s awful and offensive and I think it’s even worse than those derro caves.  And those were *derro!*  How can civilized people live in this stench!

Twiggy tried to tune him out.  They had made a promise to escort Nyoko home to Cauldron.  And it was entirely possible that the prophecy required them to be here.  They were going to have to find a library and do some research as soon as possible.  In other words, they were going to have to go into this strange city whether Acorn liked it or not.

… I can’t even fathom it!  Rotten eggs and dirt!  It’s not only disgusting, it’s…

With a smile, Twiggy accepted the bottle of strong herbal perfume that Savina had purchased from a nearby stall.  The merchants here at the Gate were clever:  they knew that non-locals would want something to mask the smell, and their offerings were diverse.  This scent, in fact, was quite pleasant.  _Ginger, and plum, and something else…_  She dabbed it generously under her nose and on her chest, where she thought it might help Acorn.

Forget the dabbing! Acorn urged.  Just dump out the bottle and let me climb inside!

They entered the Gate, and the city spread before them like a great wheel.  Grand estates and government buildings lined the outer rings, and roads led like the spokes of a wheel down toward a large, steaming lake in the center.  It was the only city Twiggy had ever heard of where the wealthy neighborhoods and the government buildings were on the outskirts, and the poorer parts were lakeside.

Nyoko had offered them the hospitality of the Adepts for the night, and as they walked along one of the uppermost streets, Twiggy realized just how generous an offer that was.  The Adepts’ complex—Nyoko pointed it out as they approached—looked as beautiful as the Estate back in Pol Henna, but (of course) much larger, and in the Sovereign style.  Exquisite topiaries lined the walls at the entrance.   Nyoko had a conversation with a guard, and after a short wait, a man—elderly, but fit and well-dressed—approached the entrance.

“Nyoko-san,” he said, “We are glad to see you safe.”

They bowed to each other, and then—to Twiggy’s surprise, and it seemed even to Nyoko’s—the man broke the formal mood with a hug.  Nyoko whispered something in the man’s ear before stepping to the side.

“I am Lord Miyosho Masa,” he said, addressing the group, “head of the Adepts here in Cauldron.”  He bowed again.  “We welcome our most honored guests from afar.  Please, come in.”  He led the group into a large and elegant courtyard, edged by low buildings with sliding doors and wide, polished wooden verandahs.  The grounds were magnificently well-kept, from the manicured grass to the stone walkways and the statues of well-toned Sovereign figures.  From the activities around them, Twiggy took the surrounding buildings to be classrooms, libraries, and dormitories.  _Like the Sorcerers’ Academy,_ thought Twiggy, _but so very different_.  In the courtyards, groups of all ages gathered—some sparring, some wrestling, some dancing, some reading.  

A young man showed them to one of the dormitories, and the rooms where they would be staying.  Each of them—except Arden, who would stay with the servants—was given a room.  Twiggy’s had pristine floors, a low bed with a soft mattress, a table with an orchid plant, and an elegant silk robe laid out on a chaise longue.  

One of the servants knocked.  “I have brought you fresh clothes,” she said, holding a heavy silk skirt, an embroidered top, and a wide-sleeved robe.  Twiggy looked down at her own garments—torn, mended, torn again, muddied, bloodied, washed, muddied again—and felt relief in her very core.  “Thank you,” she replied.  “Thank you.”

“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” the servant asked, holding out a small basket of flowers, soaps, and oils.  “You must be weary from your travel.” 

I take back everything I said before, thought Acorn.

###

“. . . all other respects, the journey was unremarkable,” Nyoko finished, bowing slightly.

“Unremarkable?”  Lord Masa-san asked, cocking an eyebrow.  He had cocked an eyebrow when she mentioned the Spring, as well—and the heathens’ decision not to kill some of the derro who had attacked there—but the cocked eyebrow was as much expression as he displayed throughout her report.  If he felt anything beyond interest, he did not show it.  Lord Masa had trained Nyoko to witness objectively, and when it came to witnessing and hearing the testimony of others, he was a master of objectivity himself. 

Frankly, his cocking an eyebrow was the equivalent of any other man goggling and spluttering for five minutes.

“What do you know of the honored heathens’ purpose in the Sovereignty?”  Lord Masa asked, his eyebrow returning to its customary position.

Nyoko considered for a moment all that the heathens had—and had not—told her.  “They are following the destiny of one of their number,” she replied.

Lord Masa did not pry further.  “We owe them a great debt, and if we can aid them in this endeavor, we shall,” he responded.  “I look forward to seeing you, and them, at supper.”

He turned to leave, but then turned back with a softer demeanor.  “I am glad to see you, Nyoko.”  

His voice was kind, and tinged with relief.  She knew this voice:  it was the voice he had used so many years ago, when he had found her.  When he had found the remains of the caravan from her village, and her, the sole survivor.  At age three, she had been too young to Witness then—but she had always had a good memory, and she remembered everything.  The strength of his hand as he reached out to help her up, the intensity of his eyes as he noted every detail of the scene, the tone and cadence of his voice when, weeks later, he invited her to train as an Adept . . .

“I am glad to see you,” Nyoko replied.  

###

After a good scrub, Tavi decided it was time to get a handle on Sovereign politics and culture.  With his sword at his side, he headed out to the courtyard.  There, he found a group of Adepts doing practice-forms, and asked to join in.

He held his own.   (“Well practiced for a heathen” wasn’t exactly what Tavi was used to hearing, but as he gathered from his time with Nyoko, it was quite a compliment.)  As they sparred, he asked about how the Sovereign government was set up.  They said more or less what Nyoko had, but here in this courtyard, it came into focus, like the components of a spell meshing together or the soft underarm of an opponent coming into view.  

(**Note:  see sidebar concerning Sovereign governmental structure, below.**)


----------



## ellinor

*Sidebar:  The Ringed Circle -- Sovereign Government*

*The Wise and Righteous Circle that Encompasses the Whole of the Lord’s Government*

The formal government of the Sovereignty, often referred to simply as The Circle, is divided into seven separate divisions, known as Rings:

*The Ring of Inquisition into the Lord's True Faith* (Inquisitors) 
The religious police.  In the old days, they were in charge of rooting out heresy and worship of the godlings; now they preserve the proper worship of Kettenek and, at least ostensibly, protect followers of the godlings from persecution by overzealous Kettenites.

The Inquisitors have power over: 
Borders- Review of foreign appointees, ability to revoke any diplomatic privileges on religious grounds 
Peerage- Inquisitors can put Peers under criminal/moral investigation, and, if warranted, seize their assets

*The Ring of Guidance Beyond the Lord's Borders*  (Borders)
Foreign relations.  They maintain relationships with heathen nations outside of the Sovereignty, establishing diplomatic missions, trade agreements, and arranging for missionary services.

Borders has power over: 
Peerage- They can draft members of peerage into foreign service
Military- Borders is required to approve all military actions outside of Sovereign territory

*The Ring of Judgment for the Lord's Chosen Peers*  (Peerage) 
Peerage serves as the governing body of, for, and by the Nobility of the Sovereignty.  They settle disputes between Nobles and manage all other affairs of the upper class.

Peerage has power over: 
Military- Peerage sets the levee levels among the nobility required to maintain military forces
Interior- Peerage is responsible for granting the land and easement rights required by Interior to establish for roads and agricultural lands

*The Ring of Security of the Lord's Holy Might*  (Military) 
The Military.  In times of war, they are the main fighting force.  In times of peace, they maintain the peace within the Sovereignty, which often means patrolling the roads from incursions by creatures of the Ketkath.

Military has power over: 
Interior- Military allocates manpower for works projects and road protection 
Priesthood- The military is also responsible for providing escorts and security for Churches and to missionaries

*The Ring of Stewardship of the Lord's Blessed Lands*  (Lands) 
Department of the Interior.  They are in charge of maintaining the roads and way stations, developing agriculture, and transporting goods throughout the Sovereignty.

Lands has power over: 
Priesthood –Lands sets the level of tithes given from the public stores to supply the priesthood Adepts- Lands also sets the level of tithes given to supply the Adepts

*The Ring of Priesthood of the Lord's Sacred Word*  (Priesthood)
The Priests.  They hold services, interpret the Word of Kettenek, and carry out religious rites.

Priesthood has power over:
 Adepts- Priestly blessing is required to officially anoint Adepts when their vows must be renewed
Inquisitors- Priesthood can demand the Inquisition launch an investigation of a given individual, or they can pardon an individual under suspicion or investigation by the Inquisition.

*The Ring of Adepts of the Lord's Favored Arts*  (Adepts) 
Artisans, loremasters, notaries public, and arbiters.  The Adepts are masters of all arts, often serving as teachers and entertainers.  However, they also have powerful legal status as unbiased, unimpeachable observers and recorders of important events. 

The Adepts have power over:
Inquisitors- An Adept is required to bear Witness in any significant investigation (particularly against any important individual)  
Borders- Scholars of the Adepts are required to review and approve language on all treaties made by Borders.


----------



## ajanders

*Sovereign Government*

I suppose requests can't go across the center of the circle?


----------



## Fajitas

ajanders said:


> I suppose requests can't go across the center of the circle?



Not quite sure what you mean by that.  *Requests* can certainly go across the Circle, but there's no power to compel a Ring opposite you to do something... unless you "go the long way around the Circle," as they say.

Of course, at the center of the Circle sits the Lord High Regent, and if he "requests" something, then yes, it gets done.


----------



## Seonaid

Nooo! I'm caught up again! Thanks once more to everyone involved for the fantastic game and story hour! You guys are great, and even more so for sharing with us!

Also, that XP comment from John Crichton is actually from me--I forgot I was logged in on his computer.


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## WisdomLikeSilence

*Sovereign Government*

And of course this incredibly complicated system of checks and balances isn't going to come into play in the game at all.  Nope, nothing to see here, move along...


----------



## Abciximab

> Not the best? the mouse interrupted. It’s awful and offensive and I think it’s even worse than those derro caves. And those were derro! How can civilized people live in this stench!




Have you ever seen the made for BBC TV "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy" (1981, not the 2005 Movie)? The mice on the table, offering to buy Arthurs Brain... That is Acorn's voice in my head.


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## Fajitas

WisdomLikeSilence said:


> And of course this incredibly complicated system of checks and balances isn't going to come into play in the game at all.  Nope, nothing to see here, move along...




Actually, as a design note, I decided to build the Circle because I thought it would be a good story engine--that is, rather than build a one-off story, I wanted to build something that would provide an on-going framework to help me *generate* stories.  

I didn't know *what* exactly I was going to do with the Circle when I created it.  But I was pretty sure that once I'd built it, I would never have to worry about generating plot for Sovereign politics stories again.

I had no idea how right I was...


----------



## ellinor

*12x04*

The water never got cold.  

One of the few benefits of living in the crater of a volcano, Twiggy mused, was what seemed to be an endless supply of naturally-heated water.  And she appreciated it—both she and Acorn remained in the bath until her fingers had shriveled and her skin smelled of flowers and spice.  Even after she had dried herself and wrapped her body in the Sovereigns’ foreign garments—_so soft!_—Acorn remained behind, hanging on the edge of the large basin, splashing with his back paws, jumping in and out of the water, poking at the flower petals, floating on the wood-and-bristle brush the Sovereigns had provided…

_We have some time before supper, Acorn,_ Twiggy thought, _and Nyoko says there is a library here.  We have research to do._

mmmmrrffff, replied Acorn, rubbing his face with a rose petal.

_The bathtub will still be here after supper,_ she offered.

How can you be so sure?

_C’mon, you,_ Twiggy smiled.  She scooped up the squirming mouse, scrubbed him vigorously with a towel, and plunked him into the generous pocket of the sovereign garment.  

A servant escorted her to the door of the library, where she arrived at the same time as a newly-clean Mena.  

The library was . . . remarkable.    Of course, it came as no surprise that the Adepts, whose purpose seemed so closely tied to the concept of memory, would have detailed records of history.  But this library had so much more.  A friendly Adept of about Twiggy’s age (who was, apparently, training to be a lore-master) showed Twiggy and Mena around an impeccably organized sea of low desks surrounded by books and scrolls.  As they discovered quickly, most of the library was underground, with warm tiles underfoot and neat stacks extending distantly in all directions.  One could spend _years_ in this library and barely scratch the surface.  This was nothing like the library at the Estate.  It was barely even like the library at the Academy.  Twiggy was sure that the Great Library at Dar Pykos, which she had heard described by Dona Giovanna, was bigger.  But this—with its ancient tomes and friendly guides—had to be _better._

Needless to say, Twiggy and Mena realized immediately that there was a good deal more library than they would be able to cover in the hour or so before dinnertime.  This evening, they’d get the basics of Sovereign history and politics.  Tomorrow, they’d start hunting for clues about the meaning of the prophecy.

“History?  What history in particular?” the loremaster-in-training responded to their requests.

“About the Lord High Regent,” said Mena.  “And about Sovereign governmental structure?” asked Twiggy, not entirely sure if that was redundant.

The young man shook his head.  “I’ll need more information than that,” he said, pointing at shelf after shelf of bound volumes, some very ancient.  “These are our histories of the Lord High Regent.  Rikitaru I, volumes 1-89.  Rikitaru II, volumes 1-73.  Rikitaru Nori is the most recent.”

“Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way,” Mena suggested.  “Could you bring us a copy of the Affirmation?”

When he returned with the scroll, Twiggy had a brainstorm.  “And a children’s text about the Gods?”

The young man paused for a moment.  “Gods?”  

Twiggy remembered Nyoko’s phrasing.  “Kettenek.  And the . . . Godlings.”

He returned with a richly illustrated version of the Sovereign creation myth.  By the time they had to leave for dinner, it all made sense.  Which is to say, it didn’t make sense at all.

(**Note:  Sidebars coming soon regarding the Sovereign creation myth and the Affirmation.**)


----------



## ellinor

*We have an awesome GM*

Just to give you (the readers) some background -- Characters and players alike sat at the table listening to the Sovereign Creation myth furrowing our brows and shaking our heads at how awesomely, strangely different it is from the Halmae theology we've come to know and love.  (All except Nyoko, of course, since this creation myth is second nature to her).  

But that was just Fajitas' off-the-cuff version of the creation myth.  Now -- in a surprise special treat brought to us by the brilliant pen of Fajitas-- we get to see what Twiggy and Mena actually _read._ 

Enjoy!


----------



## ellinor

*Sidebar:  The Sovereign Creation Myth*

*Chapter I*

In the beginning there was the earth, and the earth was Kettenek, and it was good;

But the earth was vast and wide, and there was nothing to fill it;  

And so Kettenek brought forth the plants and the animals to fill the breadth of the earth, and the sentient races to dwell in it; and above them He brought forth four beings of His Own divine nature to rule them and teach them to live as He intended; 

And they were two sisters and two brothers; and they were called Alirria, Sedellus, Ehkt, and Rikitaru.

As they were brought forth from Kettenek’s divine nature, they were naturally instilled with the Virtues of Kettenek, for they were to be an example to all the sentient races of how Kettenek meant them to live;

And Alirria was tranquil and beautiful, and Ehkt was fearless and vigorous, and Sedellus was clever and wise, and Rikitaru was just and righteous.  

And for a time, they were the truest of examples of these Virtues; and all beheld them, and the earth was right and peaceful, and the earth was Kettenek, and it was good. 

But after long times of rightness and peace, they began to forget these Virtues;

And Alirria grew wanton and indulged her every desire, and Ehkt grew prideful and became boastful and cruel, and Sedellus grew covetous and sought power for herself.

Among them all, only Rikitaru stayed true to Kettenek’s Virtues, for he remained just and righteous as he had always been.

*Chapter II*

Now it came to pass that Ehkt had grown in strength and in prowess, and there was no beast he could not slay and there was no mountain he could not climb.  And he sang songs of his own praise; and he boasted there was nothing he could not claim if he saw fit;

And in this boast Sedellus saw her opportunity, for though she had grown covetous and power-hungry, she was as clever and wise as always.

So Sedellus sought out her brother Ehkt and kept his company for a season; and during that time, she whispered in his ear, and within him she bestirred a great passion for his sister Alirria, who, though she was wanton, was still beautiful.

So Sedellus whispered to Ehkt of his prowess; and she whispered to him of his strength; and she whispered to him that there was nothing he could not claim if he saw fit; and she preyed upon his ego and she enflamed in him his lust;

And with his thoughts manipulated thusly, Ehkt sought his sister Alirria to claim her as his own. 

But when he came to woo her, Alirria laughed at him, for she was used to indulging only in her pleasures, and Ehkt’s bloody and boastful ways did not please her.

But her laughter sent Ehkt into a rage, for he would not stand to be laughed at.

And Ehkt flew into a fury; and in his rage he slew all the attendants who waited upon her; and Alirria turned in fright and tried to flee, but Ehkt chased her down and laid claim to her; and when she sought to flee again, Ehkt seized her and threw her down; 

And her head struck upon a rock of the earth, and she lay still, for her brother in his folly had slain her.

And her Father, Kettenek knew great sorrow at her passing; and his tears flowed forth from the rock where she had struck her head until they had flooded all the land;

And the great Sea of the Halmae grew forth from where she had fallen, as Kettenek’s tears flooded the earth.

*Chapter III*

Now it came to pass that word of Ehkt’s crime reached the ears of Rikitaru, and Rikitaru wept for his sister whom he had loved.  And he turned for counsel to his sister Sedellus, for he knew well that she possessed the Virtue of wisdom;

And Sedellus offered counsel, and she whispered in his ear that he must find his brother Ehkt and slay him; she whispered to him of justice; and she whispered to him of righteousness; and she whispered to him of duty.  

And Rikitaru saw the truth in her words, and so he wept for the brother whom he had loved.

And so for half a season, Rikitaru pursued his brother Ehkt across the width and breadth of the earth.  

Now Rikitaru knew his task to be in vain, for his brother Ehkt was the mightiest warrior to walk the earth; and Rikitaru knew that to hunt his brother was to hunt death. Yet hunt him he did, for the demands of justice cried out that Ehkt must pay for his crimes.

And so it was after half a season that Rikitaru found his brother Ehkt in the green forests of the north;

And from midnight to midnight, brother fought brother; and their fury at each other as they fought was so great that it burned white hot and it laid waste to all the green forests of the north, burning the land into ash and sand;

And in the end, Rikitaru prevailed, for his cause was just and Kettenek’s might was with him; and Rikitaru slew his brother Ehkt whom he had loved.

And Ehkt was at last defeated; 

And so were born the great deserts of Ebis as a scar burnt across the earth.

*Chapter IV*

Now it came to pass that Rikitaru returned home after he had slain his brother;

And his sister Sedellus greeted him as he came home, and she hid well her surprise; for she had not expected Rikitaru to survive the task she had set him on.

She greeted her brother with refreshment and wine, for he was wounded from his journey in both body and heart.  She offered the wine to him and bade him drink deep of it.

And Rikitaru raised the cup to his lips, but he did not drink of it; for in his dying breath, his brother Ehkt had confessed to him how their sister Sedellus had kept his company and whispered in his ear; and Rikitaru remembered how Sedellus had offered him her counsel and had whispered in his ear; and he did not drink of the cup for he did not trust his sister, whom he had loved.

Now Sedellus, thinking he had drunk from the cup, smiled, for she had put a poison in the wine to slay her brother Rikitaru, and she thought now her designs complete;

But Rikitaru contrived to distract his sister, and while she was turned away he switched his cup with hers; 

Then he bid her raise a toast to their siblings whom they had loved; and Sedellus drank herself from the poisoned cup that Rikitaru had only raised to his lips;

And as she tasted the wine that she herself had poisoned, Sedellus realized what had befallen her.  

But it was too late, for the poison was now within her.

And she gasped but once; and then she smiled at the brother who had taken her life;

And then her body crumbled to dust as the poison worked its way within her; and the dust was picked up by the wind and spread across all the earth; and so the covetousness and lust for power of Sedellus was spread to all the sentient races, for this was the last act of Sedellus upon the earth.

And Rikitaru, who was now alone among his siblings, wept.

*Chapter V*

Now it came to pass that Rikitaru was alone among his siblings;

And he called to himself the leaders of the sentient races to assure them that all was well across the earth and that Kettenek’s Virtues endured;

But many who came had already thrown off Kettenek’s Virtues; for where once Rikitaru and his siblings had been the truest examples of these Virtues, now had been seen the follies of Alirria and Ehkt and Sedellus; and by their ill examples their wickedness had spread;

And those who had fallen prey to this wickedness would not listen to Rikitaru; and so with sadness, he cast them out; and they went forth as heathens who had lost Kettenek’s Virtues;

And to those who stayed true to Kettenek’s Virtues, Rikitaru laid down Kettenek’s Law, for he saw now that Virtue could not be enforced, but that Law could.

And so Rikitaru laid forth the Circle with its structures and its strictures; and he put forth the Laws and the Disciplines that they may be studied and advanced; and he ruled as Kettenek’s Right Hand on the earth for many years;

But after many years, Rikitaru grew weary, for his burden was great and his sorrows ran deep; and so from among those who had adhered to him and adhered to Kettenek’s Sovereignty on earth, he picked the one that best embodied Kettenek’s Virtues; 

And he adopted her as his daughter, that she would be descended from Kettenek’s own divine nature; and he bade her take his place as Kettenek’s Right Hand on the earth;

And she took his name to honor him, for he alone among his siblings had held true to Kettenek’s Virtues;

Then Rikitaru went forth across the earth to seek his Father’s breast; and he descended bodily into heaven and was drawn into Kettenek.

And in the end, there was the earth, and Kettenek’s Sovereignty reigned upon the earth, and the earth was Kettenek;

And it was good.


----------



## ajanders

So who else wants to see a theological debate between Rikitaru and the Ahma?


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Well.  That is a fascinatingly different, and yet sorta kinda vaguely consistent, version of the cosmology.   I also find it interesting that parts of the core portfolio of Kettenek in other theologies are part of Rikitaru's portfolio in the Sovereignty.

It makes me wonder if there is any analogue to Rikitaru in the standard theology of the Halmae city-states.  Do followers of Kettenek have a concept of a similar saint or demigod?  Or is that totally unique to Sovereignty theology, and likely viewed by outsiders as a heretical story aggrandizing the first Lord High Regent?

It also raises the question of where Sovereignty theology views "godling" divine magic as coming from.  From the dead godlings?  From faith?  From Kettenek?


----------



## Orichalcum

Indeed you do. Amusingly, the new creation myth continues to remind me of L. M. Bujold's religious system in _The Curse of Chalion_ series - which, of course, came out _after_ the Halmae one had been designed.

I do like the complex-yet-simple nature of a 4 (or 1/5 !) god system very much. I still have vaguely shellshocked memories of a LARP in which Ladybird forced me to memorize the geneaologies of a 15-god system of a people who had only oral tradition and where telling the stories and relationships among the gods was central to my character.


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## Fajitas

Cerebral Paladin said:


> It makes me wonder if there is any analogue to Rikitaru in the standard theology of the Halmae city-states.  Do followers of Kettenek have a concept of a similar saint or demigod?  Or is that totally unique to Sovereignty theology, and likely viewed by outsiders as a heretical story aggrandizing the first Lord High Regent?
> 
> It also raises the question of where Sovereignty theology views "godling" divine magic as coming from.  From the dead godlings?  From faith?  From Kettenek?




There is no equivalent to Rikitaru in the rest of the Halmae.  It is as you say, considered a heretical story aggrandizing the first Lord High Regent.  Pretty much considered part and parcel with all the rest of the inexplicably insane things the Sovereigns believe.

The Sovereignty views all divine magic as coming from Kettenek, of course; those who appeal to Him through the godlings are not deemed as pure or powerful as those who appeal directly to Him, but it is undeniable that He answers their prayers (presumably out of respect for His children).



Orichalcum said:


> I do like the complex-yet-simple nature of a 4 (or 1/5 !) god system very much. I still have vaguely shellshocked memories of a LARP in which Ladybird forced me to memorize the geneaologies of a 15-god system of a people who had only oral tradition and where telling the stories and relationships among the gods was central to my character.




Part of the reason I built the cosmology the way I did was precisely to make it easy for people to learn the pantheon.  A good pantheon is only fun to play around with if everyone understands it implicitly, and it's just too hard to expect people to do that with large pantheons.


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## spyscribe

ellinor said:


> Just to give you (the readers) some background -- Characters and players alike sat at the table listening to the Sovereign Creation myth furrowing our brows and shaking our heads at how awesomely, strangely different it is from the Halmae theology we've come to know and love.  (All except Nyoko, of course, since this creation myth is second nature to her).




Hee hee!

One of the fun things about playing the only Sovereign at the table is trying to sit there with a straight face after Fajitas has dropped just such a bomb on the party and saying something to the effect of, "Of course that is how things are.  Why do you find it so strange?"

I've heard them talking about how things are where they come from.  It's way weirder and more complex than life in the Sovereignty.


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## ellinor

*Sidebar:  The Affirmation*

Again, from the pen of Fajitas (as conduit for Lord High Regent Rikitaru Nori):  This is what Twiggy and Mena read.



> * The Decree Affirming the Divine Nature of the Saints and Allowing their Just and Legal Worship*
> 
> Acknowledging that Kettenek’s Sovereignty has long been rent by religious unrest both within and without; and acknowledging that the divine blood of the Saints is the same as that which flowed in the veins of Rikitaru himself, His Holiness, the Lord High Regent Rikitaru Nori as Kettenek’s Right Hand on the earth decrees that the Saints shall be properly recognized as the right and true Siblings of Rikitaru and Holy Children of Kettenek; and that, in their holy nature, they are deserving of the worship that has long been forbidden.  Although they turned in time from Kettenek’s Virtues, let it hereby be Affirmed that Saints were once Exemplars of those Virtues; and that as a grown child chooses to remember their parents at their prime and not in their dotage, we too shall remember them in their divine nature as Kettenek made them, and not as they were in their Wickedness.
> 
> ::Signed and Sealed::


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## ellinor

*12x05*

Savina rolled her neck softly as she walked into the great hall.  As talented as she was at healing, she had never been able to figure out how to give herself a massage.  Now—after not only a massage, but also a bath, a new set of clothes, and some time with a very talented hairstylist—she felt human in a way she hadn’t felt in weeks.  Longer, perhaps.

Like nearly everything in the Adepts’ compound, the hall was magnificent.  They sat on embroidered cushions in places of honor at Lord Masa’s table.  Although similar in kind, the food was much more refined than what they had eaten at the way-stations, and Savina’s estimation of Sovereign cuisine rose considerably.  Before and after dinner, they were treated to performances of music, poetry, and dance.  There was a toast to the “honored heathens.”

Throughout dinner, Lord Masa was politely inquisitive, asking questions about the party’s background, their experience in the Ketkath, and their conflict with the derro.  “Nyoko-san tells me that you chose not to kill some of the derro that attacked you,” he commented.

Tavi responded politely.  “We had just witnessed the destruction of a sacred Spring.  We felt that the shedding of more blood would not have been appropriate.”

“Have you read Rikitaru’s decree?”  Lord Masa asked.

“We are familiar with the Affirmation,” Tavi confirmed.

“It seems to me,” Lord Masa observed, “that by ending the cycle of violence, you have well-served the memory of the Sharpstone Monks.  It is a choice that our Lord High Regent himself might have made.”

Savina hadn’t realized how tense she’d been throughout the conversation, but suddenly, she found it just a bit easier to breathe.

As the festivities wound down, Lord Masa turned to Savina.  “Are you well-trained in the ways of Alirria?” he asked.

Savina felt her chest tighten again.  “I am, Lord Masa-san.”  

“You are one of her priestesses?”

“Yes,” Savina offered, “—although I am careful to observe the rules concerning proselytizing here in the Sovereignty.”

“Then—” Lord Masa leaned toward her “—there is a favor you might do for me.”

Her chest tightened a bit more . . . but the man seemed trustworthy.  And he needed a favor regarding the ways of Alirria.  This was her responsibility.

“I have a friend in need of an expert on Alirrian matters,” Lord Masa continued.  “Will you meet with me in the morning to discuss it?”

Savina looked at the others.  Everyone seemed nervous.  Kormick was rolling his eyes in that endearing way.  But Savina smiled.  

“I would be happy to.”


----------



## Ilex

So... things are a little busy on our end. There are deadlines. Visitors. Traveling. People moving to town. People moving to new houses.

Obviously this story hour is still our #1 priority in life, but, strangely, other people (colleagues, contractors, students, infants) don't always see it that way.  I know!  What's wrong with them???  

Posting may be a little erratic for the next few weeks, as it has been for the last few, BUT we're definitely still happily writing whenever we can.  The plan will be to post 'em as we finish 'em, whenever that happens to be (for instance, one of them will be right now... just as soon as I post this message).  Then, a bit later in the summer as things settle back into a routine, we'll settle back into the regular weekly updates we've been doing so far.

In the meantime, we're all watching jonrog and co's Leverage, right?


----------



## Ilex

*13x01*

Not long after the extravagant dinner had ended, bells across the city began to toll.  It was midnight, Kettenek's time.  Savina wearily accepted her cloak from Arden and followed the others out into the courtyard of the Adept House.  In the darkness, warm winds of spring were gusting over Cauldron's rim, stirring the lake far below and spiraling back around to whisk at Savina's cloak, bearing a hint of sulfur.  Adepts, apprentices, and servants filled the courtyard.  The place was lovely in the starlight: pebbles and rocks twined in patterns through low shrubbery.  A fountain trickled in one corner.  Incense joined sulfur in the capricious breeze.  

Savina suppressed a smile as the thought occurred to her that this was the most comfortable Kettenite shrine she'd ever seen.

Lord Masa sat near the front, but did not speak, leaving the service in the hands of younger Adepts.  Savina listened to the chants in fascination:  _Kettenek, Lord of All, whose firm earth gives strength to all crops, whose strong stone contains the power of fire, whose mighty mountains shelter us from the fickle winds of all storms..._ 

The theology was all wrong, but the music was beautiful.  

Fifteen minutes later, she joined the rustling throng headed back inside.  Arden took Savina's cloak, her shoes, turned down the bedclothes, and, when Savina was ready, blew out the candle and closed the door softly behind her.  Savina fell asleep to the sound of the breeze tossing and fluttering leaves outside.

When the pre-dawn light woke her, she was nervous and groggy, all at once.  The light grew brighter, but it seemed an unusually long time until the sun heaved itself over the city's rim and Savina could say the dawn prayers.  This was a strange place, and even though she hadn't said prayers with another Alirrian since that morning in Lord's Edge, so long ago, she still felt especially alone and alien at this moment.  _Today I have to advise a Lord of the Sovereignty about Alirrian matters.  And maybe I'm the only one in this city who can._

By the time that she, Arden, and Nyoko presented themselves at Lord Masa's audience chamber, she had Mena's over-breakfast advice ringing in her ears:  "There is no need for deceit.  Sedellus can do that all by herself.  But be tactful.  Don't proselytize.  Stick with statements about your beliefs.  Say '_I_ believe' and '_I_ feel.'  And be confident.  You trained for this."

A servant bowed them into the room.  Arden waited by the door as Savina and Nyoko stepped forward.  Nyoko bowed low before the head of her order and he returned the gesture, smiling with genuine affection.  Savina did her best to follow Nyoko's lead, and received a bow in return.

Lord Masa gestured toward two cushions awaiting them before his low desk.  

"Honored Adept and Honored … Honored Daughter?" he said, both invitation and graceful question.

"Blessed Daughter," Savina corrected him, as she and Nyoko knelt on their cushions, Nyoko with far more delicate grace that Savina.  Lord Masa sat down opposite them with the neatness of a cat.  

"Yes, of course," he smiled.  "_Blessed_ Daughter.  A priestess of Alirria."

"A – a young one," said Savina, in a shy disclaimer.  Then she remembered Mena's words.  _Be confident._ "But yes, a priestess of Alirria.  What may I do for you?"

"An issue has come to my attention that requires knowledge of Alirrian ways," he said, revealing no more than he had last night.  Then he smiled and spoke less formally.  "Rather, a relation of mine has been pestering me, claiming his liege lord is perpetrating an Alirrian heresy.  It's a matter for the Inquisitors, not us Adepts, but they have already investigated and found nothing amiss.  Yet my cousin persists.  He insists that the initial Inquisition was … less than perfect."

"What does your cousin find troubling?" Savina asked.

"Let me be clear, he is no fan of saint worship," Lord Masa said.  "His liege lord, by contrast, converted to Alirrian worship some years ago after marrying a secret Alirrian.  Certainly one can imagine that this might bring about tensions in the district.  My cousin is a minor noble, new to adulthood, and he is reticent to discuss the situation with anyone not directly involved.  I've thus told you everything I know.  But, if you would be so kind as to meet with Lord Ono Kenji, the Head of the Inquisition here in Cauldron, surely you can help him get to the bottom of the matter."

_The Inquisition._  For the second time that morning, Savina found herself thinking back to morning prayers that first day in Lord's Edge.  This time, she remembered the snarling Inquisitors who'd broken up the gathering.  She remembered how angry she'd been.

"I want to make sure I understand," said Savina, remembering to use "I" statements.  "I wouldn't feel comfortable contributing to the inquisition of a fellow Alirrian."

"Certainly not," he said.  "These are not the old days, and orthodox Alirrian worship is legal.  I simply ask you to help determine if my cousin's lord's practices are, in your expert opinion, heretical."  

Savina wondered if he knew that it seemed to be very much the old days in Lord's Edge.  She said nothing, however, and bowed her head in consent.  At the very least, she did want to know more.  "I will do my best to assist you," she said.

"Excellent," said Lord Masa.  "Do priestesses of your order charge a fee for such services?  How may we repay you?"

Savina shook her head.  "Your hospitality has been so delightful, Lord Masa.  We should not speak of debt among friends."  

Lord Masa smiled.  "Then I will alert Ono-san to your coming.  Nyoko, if you order a carriage for just past lunchtime, I venture to speculate that you and the Blessed Daughter will be a priority among his afternoon appointments."

With that, he bowed them out of the room.

### 

Twiggy was back in the library, surrounded by the smell of vellum, the sound of shuffling pages, and Acorn's radiating affection for the orderliness of the shelving system.  Despite that, she was frustrated.  As before, Mena had come with her to the library, and this time, they had met with an Adept Loremaster, Lady Tomako, a reserved woman with thin gray hair bound back and tattoos covering her face.  At the moment, she was staring at them skeptically.  Mena was staring back like the Defier she was.  This stalemate had been going on all morning.  

The problem had begun, Twiggy realized, even before they arrived at the library.  Over breakfast, the group had debated whether to tell the Adept Loremasters about the prophecy.  As usual, Mena, Kormick, and Arden favored caution and secrecy – even Arden spoke up to say as much.  Twiggy understood their trepidation, but favored the opposite:  since they had access to the riches of the Adept Loremasters' knowledge, why not enlist the Loremasters’ aid—share what they knew, and seize the chance to learn all they could?  She'd been overruled.

Now—after spending hours asking Lady Tomako vague, roundabout questions and getting nowhere—Twiggy felt vindicated.  _Lady Tomako knows we're not telling her everything,_ Twiggy thought.  _It’s no wonder she’s annoyed.  If we don’t tell her anything, she won’t tell us anything._  It wasn’t just the practicality, either:  keeping the Loremaster in the dark felt wrong, like convicting someone without proof.  Twiggy shot Mena a glance.  The Defier clearly knew they weren’t getting anywhere with this approach—but was prepared to keep Rose's secret forever nonetheless.  

"Perhaps," Mena tried again, "you might bring us any texts about sieges in which walls were battered down?" 

"That," answered Tomako-san skeptically, "is virtually _all_ sieges.  If you could give me _any_ additional details –"  

"I thank you for the trouble you're taking, Tomako-san," interrupted Mena, blandly but defiantly.  _At least she's being polite,_ Twiggy thought, _but we can't keep going on like this._ 

"I will begin with siege warfare during the era of the first five Rikitarus," sighed Tomako-san, and turned away to fetch the books.  As soon as she was out of earshot, Twiggy turned to Mena.  

"We _have_ to trust her," she whispered.  

Mena shook her head.  "The Twilight Lurker has many masks," she said. 

"You think she would disguise herself as a _librarian_?" Twiggy demanded, sounding glibber than she had intended.

"It's too dangerous … "

"Mena, with respect, you can't figure out why the world works the way it does until you've done the very best research you can.  _You_ taught me that.  And we aren't doing the best research we can."

Mena sighed.  "I know," she admitted.  "But what choice do we have?"

"Trust them!"  Twiggy erupted, her voice rising.  Mena opened her mouth to object again.  "Please," Twiggy said, forestalling her.  "You have always said that Sedellus sows mistrust.  Maybe by failing to trust, we are falling into her trap."  

Lady Tomako was back, pushing a pile of manuscript books on a trolley. Mena looked at Twiggy.  Twiggy looked back, silently willing her to agree, to take the risk of trusting.


----------



## Seonaid

Nicely done, Twiggy!


----------



## Cervante

So, I've been fairly curious since first reading the other story, how do devils and demons fit into the scheme of the divine Fajitas?


----------



## Fajitas

Cervante said:


> So, I've been fairly curious since first reading the other story, how do devils and demons fit into the scheme of the divine Fajitas?



Sorry for the response delay.  Things are a mite busy over Fajitas-way at the moment...

The short answer is that demons and devils are really just nasty angels.  All servants of the one of the gods are considered angels.  But, like human worshippers of the gods, there's a lot of variation in what any given individual servant is like.

In formal Halmae terms, the creature that required the Sacrifices from the old party in the last campaign was an angel of Sedellus.  However, it did force them to make deals and then screw them based on the letter, rather than the spirit, or what they said... which is fairly devil-ish thing to do (or demon-ish thing to do; I never remember which is which).  

So, as with so many other things, they're just reskinned and regurgitated as something that better fits in with my gameworld.


----------



## Ilex

*Sdcc*

Urf, so new updates are taking a little longer to pull together than we'd hoped, but there are several in the pipeline, so soon... soon...

In the meantime, upstanding professional geeks that they are, Fajitas, spyscribe, and ellinor are all in San Diego at Comic-Con at this very moment.  Send them a private message if you want to seek them out!  Fajitas will be hangin' with the rest of the Dead Space 2 team, spyscribe will be at Eureka events, and ellinor can be found at the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund booth.


----------



## Ilex

*13x02*

"These are the earliest Chronicles of War," Lady Tomako said, and held out two pairs of white gloves.  "You may not touch them directly.  The oils from your skin would deteriorate the ancient –"

Mena nodded at Twiggy, just once, but that faint sign of agreement with Twiggy's pleas was enough.  Twiggy turned to the Loremaster.

"Lady Tomako-san, maybe it would help if we told you a little more."  She felt the weight of what she was about to say.  "We're researching a prophecy."

Lady Tomako frowned.  "In that case… you shouldn’t be researching historical events.  You should be researching… allusion.  Metaphor.  Allegory.  Words that may not mean what they appear to mean.  That is not my field – I have wasted your time.  If only I had known more."

"It is my fault," said Mena.  "I do not trust easily." 

The Loremaster didn't acknowledge Mena's apology.  "I will see if one of our experts in religious literature can be troubled to assist you," she said, and strode away.  Just before she disappeared down an aisle of shelves, Twiggy heard her mutter, "Heathens."

"If we're doing this," said Mena, "we'll withhold the prophecy's first verse – the one that sounds Sedellan – and we'll be vague about how we came into possession of it.  Above all, we will not discuss Rose.  All right?"

Twiggy nodded.  Those were reasonable restrictions.  She picked up a sheet of paper and wrote out the latter three verses.  Now that she'd persuaded Mena to relent, she hoped she'd done the right thing.  What if this new Loremaster was angry with them on Lady Tomako's behalf?  Plus, the prophecy was more than a bit suspect from a Kettenite perspective, with its talk of ruined walls and breaking stones.  What if it offended the Sovereigns?  What if revealing it put Rose in more danger?

Then the expert in religious texts appeared, and instantly Twiggy knew everything would be all right.  Ahiko-san was a tiny, white-haired man, wrinkled and stooped, with a beaming smile and spectacles like Twiggy’s.  He introduced himself and then stood back, rubbing his hands in satisfaction, taking in the sight of them.  "This is splendid!"  He sat down.  "My dear ladies, my dear heathen ladies," he said.  "What a treat this is.  You, Mena-san, you belong to that sect that stands in the way of trickery, yes?  The … let me see now … the Defeaters of the Wind?"

"The Defiers, yes," answered Mena.

"Splendid, splendid," he said.  "And – why, I hardly dare to believe it – I'm told you have a prophecy to examine?  A real prophecy?" 

"Yes," said Twiggy, and handed him the verses with a smile.  

He pushed his spectacles up and chuckled in delight.  "Never had an actual fresh prophecy.  My, my…!"

He read quickly, murmuring to himself. 

Then, all at once, his face darkened.  When he looked up, his smile was gone.  He held out the paper.  

"But my dear heathen ladies… We have a terrible problem here." 

Twiggy felt hairs on the back of her neck rise and she stopped breathing.  _Oh, Gods, Mena was right.  It's heretical.  He has to arrest us._

Next to her, Mena's body had become taut, battle-ready.  "What is the nature of the problem?" she asked, sparks of danger in her voice.

Ahiko-san looked downright tragical.  He shook his head.  Twiggy braced herself for the man to summon the Inquisition.

"Why, it's incomplete," he said.  "You're missing a verse."

They stared at him.

"Do you see?" he continued.  "Look here.  Three verses, one with Kettenite imagery, one Alirrian, one Ehktian.  Plainly, there ought to be a verse for the saint Sedellus, too."

How they ought to answer him was a serious problem, no doubt, but Twiggy was breathing again, nearly smiling in her relief.  

"There – there was another verse … " she began, and caught the faintest frown from Mena.  "But we – we didn't hear most of it.  It was at the beginning – before we could write it down – so we missed some – "

"What a shame.  Prophecies are tricky enough without gaps.  But what you did hear – was it Sedellan?  Wind, change, fortune, trickery?  Defier-san, surely you would recognize such things?"

"It was Sedellan imagery," Mena said, smiling a bit herself in warm response to the man's friendly enthusiasm.

"Splendid.  All four saints are accounted for – our confusion can be mitigated that much.  If one must be ignorant, then it is best to know what one does not know.  Now, let me see, let me see.  _Break the last stone_…"

As the afternoon wore on, they worked their way through the prophecy.  Ahiko-san was a great help, first confirming that the words did, indeed, seem metaphorical rather than historical, and then sifting through his wealth of knowledge to pull out possible relevant connections.  He commented, for example, that imagery of a vessel in Sovereign texts often suggested a person, a mortal body, who might contain either a special destiny or simply a soul.  A _broken_ vessel, from his Kettenite perspective, suggested a weakened person, but he couldn't be sure that applied in this case.  And so on.

When he came to the lines about the "agent," he brightened and tapped the paper.  "Here," he said.  "I recall a reference in a local priestly journal… let me see… sometime in the last generation, perhaps seventy-five years ago… a scaffold speech, just before an execution, was it?  No, no, it wasn't a speech… yes.  It was a heretic sentenced to die by exposure, babbling as she suffered.  The Adepts recorded the words, of course, and I'm certain she used language about an agent of destruction.  You'll need to check with the Inquisitors – the details are in their records."  

Twiggy made a careful note of it, wondering how they would ever persuade the bullying Inquisitors to assist them.

In the end, Ahiko-san was so kind and helpful that Mena even asked him about a key word from the "forgotten" first verse:  she asked if he knew of any kings in the Sovereignty.  He shook his head.  "The Lord High Regent is no king, though in our first days of contact with you heathens, our diplomats did occasionally call him such to avoid confusion.  But Kettenek is king.  The Lord High Regent is just that – a regent."

"How would we meet with him?" asked Twiggy, curious.

Ahiko-san looked shocked and then laughed.  "Oh, my dear girl," he said.  "Almost no one sees the Lord High Regent.  Certainly not outsiders, and very few of us Sovereigns even have cause to visit his city of Divine Mark."

Mena frowned.  "_No one_ sees him?  Then how do you know that he's – forgive me – that he's healthy?  And uncompromised?"

Twiggy knew that Mena was thinking about the prophecy's reference to a "dying king."  She glanced at Ahiko-san a little anxiously.

The man was unperturbed.  "_Almost_ no one sees the Lord High Regent," he reiterated.  "Certainly enough people see him to support him and transmit his wishes to Kettenek's people.  Any conspiracy whatsoever would involve an unthinkably difficult deception.  Surely the same is true of your great rulers?"

Twiggy pictured the subtle political manipulations that complicated Pol Henna and the less-subtle machinations Kormick had described in Dar Und.  _At least we get to *see* the Doge from time to time, though_, she thought.  _And Kormick has met Four Fathoms._  Still, it was hard to maintain much skepticism in the face of Ahiko-san's serene confidence.  

They wrapped up their conversation and thanked the Loremaster, promising to visit him again if they had any more questions.  

As they walked down the hall away from the library, Mena frowned.  "It seems like long odds that the Lord High Regent is our dying king," she said, "but I’d still like to see for myself."

"And I," said Twiggy, "am looking forward to seeing Nyoko-san's face when you ask her to help us get in to see the Lord High Regent."

When they did ask her, over lunch, Nyoko raised her eyebrows higher than Twiggy had thought possible.

###

Nyoko tucked a loose hair into her otherwise perfect bun.  These heathens were audacious, she'd give them that.  They'd barely spent a full day in Cauldron and already they were being asked to meet with the head of the Inquisition in Cauldron and asking to see the Lord High Regent himself.  She suppressed a chuckle.  The first was audacious, correct.  The second was unthinkable.  

Both were a . . . significant change from the group who, just scant weeks before, had seemed suspicious—even hostile—toward the Sovereign state.  “Next stop, the Inquisition!”  Twiggy had said, when Savina explained Lord Masa-san’s request for assistance with investigating a possible Alirrian heresy.  _This is an improvement, I suppose,_ thought Nyoko.  

As the carriage whisked the group through the streets to the Inquisitors’ Hall, Nyoko enjoyed Savina’s delighted exclamations over the finery of the horses, the embroidery on the cushions, and the sheer pleasure of riding rather than walking.  She cheerfully explained when Twiggy asked a few questions about her Adept regalia:  Nyoko was wearing her full formal robes and makeup for the first time since returning to the city, in acknowledgement of the importance of this meeting.  She had arranged for Savina's companions to attend, as well, at Octavian-san's request.  

Shadow fell over the carriage windows:  they'd arrived.  The group fell silent as the coachman opened the carriage door and helped them out.  Arden, who'd ridden outside, jumped down and glanced warily around the courtyard.

"Why am I not surprised?" muttered Kormick.

Nyoko could understand the heathens' sudden change of mood:  the House of the Ring Of Inquisition into the Lord's True Faith was a forbidding stone fortress, marked by right angles and slit windows.  There were no gardens, no trees.  It was a building designed to be feared.

Nyoko saw Savina swallow as two Inquisitors approached.  They wore gray robes and bore their traditional weapons: the katana and wakizashi.  They bowed deeply to Nyoko.  She bowed back.  "The honored heathens, guests of the Adepts, here to meet with your esteemed leader," she said.

"This way," said one Inquisitor, and led them into the building.  They passed down long stone hallways lit only by torches, past Inquisitors who noted their passing with impassive stares. 

Finally they arrived at a heavy wooden door.  Their guide knocked.  Silence.

Twiggy opened her mouth as if to ask a question, and then closed it silently.

Their guide knocked again.


----------



## Ilex

*13x03*

As Nyoko waited with her nervous companions outside the door of the Head Inquisitor, their guide – who also looked agitated, at this point – knocked for a third time.    

"Yes, yes, send them in already!" came a muffled voice.

Their guide swung open the door and stepped aside.  Inside was the messiest room Nyoko had ever seen … outside of a derro warren.  Overflowing cabinets lined the walls.  Stacks of documents and ledgers bordered a narrow pathway to the large, low marble desk, which itself was barely visible beneath a mound of paper.

Seated behind the desk was a man in the robes of an Inquisitor, scribbling furiously on a sheet of paper.  He didn't look up – simply held up a finger for silence.

They waited.

Eventually he finished writing, pulled a bell cord beside his desk, and handed the paper to a functionary who rushed in, grabbed it, and rushed away.  

The man stood up, ran a hand through his graying hair (making it stand on end and thus doing nothing to improve his harried appearance), and mustered a formal bow.  

"Forgive me," he said, consulting what had to be a makeshift appointment sheet.  "I have more business than I know what to do with.  Savina-san, Nyoko-san, yes?  And – others?  I'm Lord Ono."  Then he looked from Nyoko to Savina, and his face briefly became blank.

"Masa-san said that Savina-san may be of some assistance in the matter of a possible Alirrian heresy…?" Nyoko reminded him gently.

"Yes, right, that." Lord Ono rubbed his eyes tiredly.  "My apologies.  This—” he gestured at the piles of papers surrounding him, “—is too many things at once.  Right.  Alirrian heresy.  Lord Masa-san’s thing.  Yes.”  He pulled a scrap of paper from the middle of a precarious stack.  “Let me tell you what's going on."

His story proceeded with fits, starts, and a few "what's-his-name"s thrown in.  It was not, in other words, up to Nyoko's standards of narrative retellings, but she didn't expect Adept standards from an Inquisitor – especially one who clearly hadn't been getting enough sleep.  In fact, she had to admit that Lord Ono was rather likable, in his way.  His story, by contrast, was troubling.

Essentially, the lord of the Hillside District – Nishi Oshiro – was Alirrian.  Nishi-san did not come from an Alirrian family himself, but his wife's family had secretly worshipped Alirria even before the Affirmation, and he had converted for her.  After Nishi-san became a saint-worshipper, the entire district under his jurisdiction was obliged to follow his Alirrian practices.  One of these mandatory practices, called the Rite of Joyous Union, took place on the wedding night of every subject of Nishi-san.  Masa-san's cousin – "what's his name" – was getting married, and Nishi-san was insisting, as usual, upon performing the Rite.  What's-his-name and his bride refused to participate, claiming that the Rite was noxious heresy.  

"That, then, is my question for you, Savina-san," said Lord Ono.  "Is this Rite of Joyous Union an official Alirrian practice?"

"I have … never heard of it," said Savina.  "What does it involve?"

"Nothing sensible," sighed Lord Ono.  "I can see why what's-his-name objects, but who knows, saint-worshippers have bizarre customs – no offense.  The Rite of Joyous Union requires that on the eve before a wedding in his or her Estate, the liege lord lie with one of the partners to be married.  Something about allegiance and family…In this case, Nishi-san insists upon lying with what's-his-name's bride."

"'Lie with'?" said Savina, her eyes widening.  "You mean – "

Lord Ono grunted an affirmative.  "Well?" he said.

"Who – who gives consent to this?" Savina stammered.

"As far as I know, only Alirria herself.  Is this traditional, or not?"

Nyoko watched Savina's spine straighten with anger.  "Love is freely given," the girl declared.  "What you describe is rape."

Lord Ono looked disgusted, but not really surprised – or energized.  "So… that’s a heresy, then," he said.

"Absolutely," said Savina.  "How will you stop it?"

Lord Ono sighed.  "Theoretically," he began, "a new Inquisitorial Squad and Adept must be sent to the Hillside District to gather evidence, conduct a trial, and pass judgment."  He gave slight bow to Nyoko.  Then he shrugged and shook his head in exasperation.  "But as a practical matter, there's not a single man I could trust to handle it properly."

“But your Inquisitors—” Savina began.

“—have already been out there, gathered evidence, and held that the Rite was not a problem.”  He rubbed his temples.  “It’s the Tide.  They make everything harder.”

"The Tide?" asked Savina.  "That sounds Alirrian."

Lord On gave a bark of laughter, without humor.  "The opposite," he said.  "The Restless Tide of the One True Path, they call themselves.  They're ultra-conservative, and they refuse to accept the Affirmation.  They want to make all saint-worship illegal again.  They're everywhere these days – I suspect half my men are members."

“Inquisitors who refuse to accept the Affirmation,” mused Savina,  “might harass people just for saying prayers to the other gods." 

"Certainly," agreed Lord Ono.

"Do you suspect that the Inquisitors who first investigated this matter are members of The Tide?”  Savina pressed.

“Possibly, though it's much more likely that they're just ignorant of Alirrian doctrine,”  Lord Ono replied. “Half the honest Inquisitors under me wouldn't know an Alirrian heresy if it ran naked into the Lord Regent's personal vestry and performed the Beguiling Dance of the Sevenfold Secrets with a goat.  Regardless, I'm not in a position to send anyone else out to investigate this.  While I appreciate the information you have provided—I have to get back to things I _can_ do something about.”  He waved again at the papers on his desk.  

"But Lord Ono-san— " said Savina, then looked abashed at her rashness, and then continued.  "But an official investigation must be done."

"I agree, but I'm telling you, I don't have the people to do it."  He reached toward his bell-pull, as if to summon an assistant.

Savina turned to Tavi, desperation in her eyes.  "Tavi, we can't simply allow this to – "

Tavi stepped forward to face Lord Ono, making his presence felt for the first time.  "Could _we_ do it?"

"Heathens, running an Inquisition?" said Lord Ono.  He snorted, far back in his throat.

"Not heathens, Lord Ono-san.  Or not only," said Tavi. "We've got an Adept here, and we've got a Justicar."  Kormick, who had been flicking idly through a stack of papers, grunted in surprise as Tavi grabbed his arm and pulled him forward to stand in front of Lord Ono's desk. 

"Yes, right," said Kormick, fumbling his holy symbol out of his coat.  "May Kettenek's Justice rain blessings upon you."  He mis-pronounced "Kettenek," as usual, and flashed Tavi an entirely indiscreet "what are you getting me into?" glance. 

"Ah," said Lord Ono, appraising the man.  "One of those heathen lawmen.  I've heard of you.  You're – not what I pictured."  

"Such are the mysterious ways of Justice," Kormick intoned, his initial glance settling into a steady glare at Tavi.  

"Wha—right," said Lord Ono, now looking thoroughly flummoxed.  He sighed the sigh of one who desperately needed a spa day.  

Twiggy pulled Mena aside and whispered to her.  “If we help them,” Twiggy asked in nearly inaudible tones, “do you think it would make a good impression on the head of the Inquisition for the whole Sovereignty—Lady Akiko?  Because she’s close to the Lord High Regent, who we want to meet...”

Mena gave a subtle nod, and turned back to face Lord Ono.  “We are at your service,” she said.

Lord Ono shook his head as if to clear it.  "I could never allow it," he said.  

"Lord Ono-san," said Savina, looking up at him with big eyes, her voice sweet and diplomatic, "we may be – be heathens, but in this matter our values align with yours.  We all want to see this heretical rape prevented.  Please – let us help you."

"If I may,” Twiggy added, “with our knowledge of Alirrian doctrine, we would be uniquely qualified to assist you even if you weren’t ... short-handed."

"For what it's worth, I can vouch for their general worthiness," Nyoko said, surprising herself by speaking up.  But she really wanted to see this man get some well-deserved rest.  "They represent two noble families from their home city, and in the Ketkath they saved my life.  They have earned the respect of the Adepts."  

Bombarded from all sides, Lord Ono actually paused to consider it.  Then he shook his head once more.  "You have no jurisdiction," he said flatly.  

"Yes, yes, jurisdiction," said Kormick.  The Justicar turned away from Lord Ono and fixed his traveling companions with a mournful expression.  "It is exceedingly important in matters of Kettenek and Justice and so forth to respect jurisdiction, my friends.  Brother Scribe taught me the concept in Justicar School by comparing it to turf battles between gangs in Dar Und.  As in my hometown, we'd be unspeakably foolish to interfere here.  Now, hypothetically, if Lord Ono-san didn't have full control of his own turf and couldn't put this matter to rest on his own, then he'd be showing weakness.  These Tidesmen would sense that and unleash the apocalypse.  But I'm sure he's considered that."

Nyoko heard the faintest groan from Lord Ono.  The man had closed his eyes and was pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

"Deputize us," said Tavi.  "You can do that, right?"

"In theory I _could_…" Lord Ono allowed, eyes still closed.

Savina stepped forward once more, this time less like a pleading girl and more like a deeply empathetic healer.  She put a gentle hand on his arm.  "To ease your burden…" was all she said.  

After a pause, Lord Ono gave a sharp nod and opened his eyes.  "I must seek the authorization of Lady Akiko-san," he said.

Twiggy smiled.  

"I'll contact you when I've heard from her," said Lord Ono.  "Assuming she doesn't have me dismissed from my post for … unspeakable foolishness.  I thank you for your … help."

Taking his obvious cue, Nyoko moved toward the door, indicating that it was time to leave.  As they all filed toward the door, Twiggy grabbed Mena's shoulder and whispered quickly into the Defier's ear.   Mena turned back.

"Lord Ono-san," she said, "on an unrelated matter, would it be possible to have one of your assistants look up an old record for us?"

"Given your generous offer just now," he sighed, "I can hardly refuse… what is it about?" 

"It's for some research we're doing," said Twiggy.  "We're trying to track down a transcription of some things a woman said seventy-five years ago while she was being executed.  Apparently she was some kind of Sedellan—"

Lord Ono's eyes had started glazing over at "seventy-five."

"I'll write down the information," interrupted Mena, reaching for a blank scrap of paper on his desk and scrawling some words on it.  "Hand it to your assistant and think nothing more of it."  She gave him the paper.  

"I'll see what I can do," he said.

"Thank you very much," said Mena, and with that, the meeting was over.

They silently followed a guide back down the imposing hallways.  Only as they were getting into the waiting carriages did Savina suddenly ask, "Did I really just offer to help Sovereign Inquisitors?"  

Unexpectedly, it was Arden who answered, sounding almost as beleaguered as Lord Ono had.  "Yes, you did, Blessed Daughter.  And when the Honored Mother ordered me to protect you, I wish she'd mentioned how hard it would be."


----------



## Ilex

*13x04*

Arden paced behind Savina and Mena through Cauldron's main marketplace, losing an internal battle against impatience.  After days of standing silently in the back of meetings (if she was admitted at all), she found herself restless to go back to Pol Henna.  This afternoon, Savina had asked Mena to help her shop for better traveling clothes and equipment, anticipating that they'd soon be departing the city to assist Lord Ono.  Arden couldn't argue with Savina's logic (boots were one item on the girl's shopping list), but it did mean that Arden was now carrying all the new armor that Mena had selected for herself, Savina, and Tavi, and it looked like the load was only going to get bigger.

Then Mena suggested that Savina buy Arden a new dagger, and unexpectedly, Savina consented.  With the small weight of the new weapon at her hip, Arden summoned her willpower and silenced the complaining voice in her head.  Returning to Pol Henna was simply not an option.  The mission Savina had so naively gotten them all into – to stop a string of heretical rapes disguised as an Alirrian ritual – was important.  And Rose's problems were by no means solved… and the prophecy itself was not exactly comforting… 

A man was shouting at them from a market stall:  "Pretty ladies!  Pretty ladies!  Pretty ladies!"  Arden ignored him, thinking about the prophecy's structure: _Four verses.  "Find the breath… catch the drop… fan the coals..."  Those all sound helpful.  Like we're supposed to save symbols of Sedellus, Alirria, Ehkt.  But then there's "break the stone…" and that doesn't sound helpful at all.  Is something wrong with Kettenek?_ 

"Pretty ladies! Good bagel here!"

Arden stopped dead.

"You're kidding me," she said to no one in particular.

"Arden?" asked Mena.

"Pretty ladies!  Good bagel! Make you good bagel, great bagel, have many dildos!" 

“What?” said Arden.

“Huh?” said Mena.

"Dildos?" asked Savina, brightly curious.

"That salesman…" Arden said, turning away her face from the enthusiastic dwarf, repressing a strange urge to hide from him outright.  "I met him in Lord's Edge.  He's a swindler."

"How do you know?" asked Mena.

"I don't trust him.  He won't talk straight."

"Arden, that isn't a good enough reason to condemn someone," admonished Savina, and walked right up to the man.  Mena followed.  Arden rolled her eyes helplessly and trailed behind.

"By 'bagel,' do you mean 'bargain'?" Savina asked the dwarf, who was quivering with gladness at their approach.  

The dwarf shook his head "no," smiling ingratiatingly.  "Is bagel," he said.  "Make _bagel_."

"Perhaps you might explain to us what goes into making bagels," said Mena.  

He grinned and held out his hands.  "Is bagel," he answered.  “Everyone is know how make bagel.  And with best bagel come best customer!”

Arden studied the dwarf.  His natural beard was beginning to grow in, but he'd lengthened it with extensions. 

"Then might we see your very best bagel?" Mena pressed. 

The dwarf was delighted.  He rummaged behind his stall and produced an old burlap sack.  _Here we go,_ thought Arden.  _Just the sort of thing you'd need to toss over Savina's head before dragging her off to your bagel smithy._  The dwarf leaned conspiratorially over the countertop and opened the bag.  Savina peered in first.  

"Oh!" she gasped.  "Why – it's beautiful!"

Arden stole a glance over Mena's shoulder.  There was a scintillation in the depths of the bag where a shimmery cloth caught sparkles of sunlight through the gaps in the burlap.  It _was_ pretty. 

Mena reached in to touch it, and the dwarf snatched the bag away.  "No no no," he said.  "No touch.  Is best bagel."

"What's it for?" asked Mena.

"Is for keeping wet," said the dwarf, and pantomimed shivering and throwing a cloak over his shoulders.

"Warm?" asked Savina.  "Do you mean warm?"

"Yah.  Sure.  Is that."

"How much?" asked Savina.  Arden suppressed a groan.

"One thousand gold for good bagel."  

Savina, to her credit, frowned.  Even she wasn't willing to hand over that much money – at least not right away.  "Mena," muttered Arden, seizing her chance.  "His beard is fake.  And what's he doing here instead of in Lord's Edge?"

Mena nodded.  "Both these ladies would like to know a little more about you," she told the dwarf.  "With such an expensive purchase, it's nice to know something about the seller, don't you agree?  My friend Arden says that she met you recently in Lord's Edge.  Why are you here?"

Here the dwarf looked briefly askance.  "Ah… Is – is better business.  Here people know good bagel."

"Can you tell us anything more about this cloth?" asked Savina.  "What makes it so very precious if all it does is keep you … wet?"

The dwarf grinned at her.  "Is precious because one-time dildo!" he proclaimed.

They stared at him.  “Perhaps this would be easier if we used a tongue he is more familiar with,” Mena finally murmured, and then said something to the dwarf in her most courteous Dwarven.

But the dwarf smiled and shook his head.  “No, no,” he replied proudly in Common.  “Am visit to your land. Am learn to speak your language with tongue.”

"What's your clan name?" demanded Mena flatly.

"Rockminder."

All their eyebrows shot up at that.  _Rockminder_, thought Arden, her mind racing.  _How could he be related to the dwarfs we rescued?  He's so… squirrelly._  Mena immediately questioned him in more detail, asking if he knew Kurtan or Sertani, but he shook his head.  She finally declared that dwarven clans were massive and this salesman was clearly from a different branch.  Arden was frustrated.  Just as in Lord's Edge, she wanted to know what was going on here, and just as in Lord's Edge, she had a sinking feeling that she wasn't going to find out.  

Mena asked one final question.  "Dwarven beards are only removed for great dishonor," she said.  "How did you lose yours?"

"Is … accident with fire," the salesman said.

"Is bull!#&*," Mena answered.

"With respect, Dame Mena," said Arden, having finally lost all patience, "you and the Blessed Daughter are such close friends with the leader of the Adepts … and the Head Inquisitor… Maybe your close friends would like to know more about this man's wonderful bagels.  I bet the Inquisition, especially, would – "

"Eh, good night," said the dwarf, though it was still broad daylight.  He shoved the bag back under the counter and began packing up his things.  In the process, he scrabbled around in a dirty crate, produced a forked piece of wood, and shoved it into Savina's hands.  "Nice lady, pretty lady," he said.  "Is present.  Present for you."

"Is this – ?  It is!  This is a divining rod," Savina said.

"Yah yah, good present for you.  Good night, good night."  He ducked down below the stall again.

Arden smiled, pleased to see him scared.  She caught Savina's eye and realized that the girl was frowning at her, but she didn't care.  Savina leaned back over the stall to glimpse the dwarf. 

"We didn’t want to frighten you," she said in her kindest voice.  "We wish no more than to satisfy our curiosity about your merchandise."

"Good night!"  He would no longer raise his head.

"We shouldn't have scared him like that," said Savina.  _He was asking for it_, Arden answered her silently, and maybe her irritation showed on her face, because Savina dropped the matter.

As they walked on and Savina resumed shopping, Arden did realize, with a pang of remaining annoyance, that she still had no real proof what "bagel" actually meant.

### 

The next day, Arden found herself standing in the back of another meeting in Lord Ono's cluttered office.  Lady Akiko had consented to the group's plan, and Lord Ono was briefing Savina, Tavi, Kormick, and the others on what would be expected of them as deputized Inquisitors.  Arden kept her eye on Kormick, curious to see how these foreign duties might conflict with his idiosyncratic commitment to Justice.  He seemed unperturbed.

Next, Lord Ono requested that everyone except Arden take a formal oath of office.  The wording was slightly awkward, suggesting that it had been hastily amended to incorporate the heathens' belief in four gods.  Arden was relieved to be left out, not least because she had learned to hate making promises.  Slaves weren't in charge of their own lives; an owner's demand could always destroy the best of intentions.  Promises weren't worth making, and oaths weren't worth taking, unless you were prepared to defy the world and everything in it to keep them.

Lord Ono presented each of his new deputies with a gray Inquisitorial robe and a ceremonial wakizashi.  Arden traded her Alirrian colors for a gray surcoat, just like the other servants around the place were wearing.  And with that, they had become Inquisitors.  Heathen Inquisitors.

Before they left, Twiggy asked, "Have you had any luck finding that old record we asked for, Lord Ono-san?" 

"Ah.  Well.  It has been suggested to me that it may be somewhere on my desk … " Lord Ono ventured, glancing helplessly at the mountains of paper.

"Oh," said Twiggy.  "Maybe by the time we're back, then."

"Indeed."

### 

They spent a few hours back at the Adept House, packing.  Arden helped load the carriage that would carry them into Hillside District.  Then she made sure Savina was comfortable inside next to Rose.  As she finally climbed up to the outside front seat, she overheard Rose say, "I knew this would be a long and unusual path.  Still, this is a bit longer and far more unusual than even I expected…" 

Kormick swung himself up next to Arden and took the reins.  

"Be ready to brutally murder anyone who looks at us oddly," he told her.  "We're not the popular kids right now."

"When's the law ever popular, Justicar?" Arden asked.  He crooked a half-smile and twitched the reins.

They drove up the curving, sloping street to the city's gates.  Everyone made way for their carriage, some bowing heads respectfully – or fearfully – to the passing Inquisitors.  The traffic thinned as they passed out of the gates and began their journey down the long and winding road to the base of the mountain that Cauldron was built atop, but their fellow travelers still made way.

Until three didn't.  A woman stood square in the middle of the road, blocking their path.  Two men flanked her.  

The woman's arms were crossed.  As the carriage bore down, she didn't budge.  She just glared.

Kormick pulled up on the reins.  Arden lowered her hand to her new dagger.

And then, as the carriage stopped, the woman yelled.

"Octavian di Raprezzi, Roseanna di Raprezzi, I am taking you home to your mother.  *Now*!"


----------



## Ilex

Just a little postscript to the latest update:  ellinor and I wish to be on the record that Mena's verbal riposte to Bagel Guy's "Is accident with fire" claim -- presented here just as it was improvised by Jenber with lightning speed at the gaming table -- was a moment of sheer Mena-tastic perfection.


----------



## ellinor

*14x01*

“Roseanna di Raprezzi, Octavian di Raprezzi, I am taking you home to your mother. *NOW.*” 

At that voice, Twiggy's blood ran cold.

Twiggy—and more importantly, Acorn—had just been enjoying the fresh breezes on the road after the sulfur stench of Cauldron.  Twiggy had been musing that, despite its smell, Cauldron had turned out to be much more pleasant than she'd expected.  She now wore a wakizashi at her side.  In their way, the Inquisitors had made her a noble.  _A noble, just like Rose and Tavi._

It wasn’t just their unexpectedly positive interaction with the Inquisitors that had made Twiggy feel good.  Leaving the forest hadn’t transformed her back into “just a lady-in-waiting,” as she had once feared.  Even Tavi, with his dedication to ordered responsibility, had begun to treat her more or less as an equal—or at least he hadn’t balked when she slipped and called him “Tav.”  After seventeen years spent struggling against the accident of her station—dreaming that it might be possible to earn the respect of the di Raprezzis—it had happened, almost by mistake.    

But now, with that voice—that all-too familiar voice—all her happy musings vanished in a heartbeat. 

The voice was Mariela.  _That’s Signora Mariela, to you,_ thought Twiggy, scowling inside.  Mariela:  Powerful sorceress.  Signor Dante’s sister.  Rose and Tavi’s aunt.  Di Raprezzi family functionary.  Generally bitter woman.

_And my mother._

Tavi’s eyes had widened with surprise, but he barely missed a beat.  In an instant, he'd jumped out of the carriage and was standing straight.  “Aunt Mariela,” he said with a tiny formal bow.  “That is a fascinating proposition.  I am afraid it’s not going to happen.”

Twiggy and the others stepped out behind him.  Mariela put her hands on her hips.  She was flanked by two members of the family guard, each holding a halberd across his chest with stern attentiveness. “We can do this two ways,” she replied, “the easy way, or the hard way.”  

“Hard for whom?”  Mena muttered to Twiggy.

Kormick stepped forward.  “Signora di Raprezzi,” he began in a conciliatory tone, “We are authorized by the Sovereign Inquisition to enforce the law of Alirria.  I think it would be—” 

“I don’t give a rat’s a@@ what you are authorized to do,” Mariela shot back.  “I am authorized to enforce the laws of Pol Henna, as a licensed enforcement agent for the di Raprezzi family.”

“What are the charges?”  Kormick asked.

Mariela smirked.  “Theft of property and familial disrespect.  Now get out of my way.”

Tavi nodded to Kormick and squared his shoulders.  “Aunt Mariela,” he began.  “Since the age of 2, I have had one responsibility:  the care and protection of my sister Rose.  It is a duty I have never shirked, for Rose and for the family.  Now, the best and only way that I can carry out that duty is for Rose and me to be beside each other, here in the Sovereignty, right now.  If you are really concerned with familial respect, you must respect Rose’s fate, and our responsibility.  We have work to do here, and we are going to do it.  So *you* can get out of *our* way.”

Mariela did not move.  Then—with a look of concentration that Twiggy recognized well—she began to cast.

“Signora Mariela!”  Twiggy blurted it out, in some futile attempt to stop time.  “We are doing something good here!  Something important!  Something good for the world *and* for the family!  You talk about familial disrespect—would you take this away from us?  From *me*?”  

Twiggy hadn’t meant to say that last part.  

Mariela smirked again, and turned to face Twiggy.  “I am taking Octavian and Roseanna.  *You* are free to do whatever you want.”  

Seventeen years of pent-up anger welled up in Twiggy.  _Seventeen years of trying politely, patiently, to get the love and attention of this woman.  Seventeen years of studying, training, excelling.  Serving the di Raprezzis.  Caring for Rose.  Hiding my lineage for the sake of the family’s good name.    

Seventeen years of being ignored._ 

Twiggy steeled herself.  It was not her place to act.  

But Mariela did.  She stared at Tavi, and cast.  Tavi’s body stiffened, held in place by Mariela’s infamous _petrifying gaze._ 

Kormick immediately turned to Nyoko.

“Attacking a member of the Inquisition.  That’s pretty illegal, yes?” he asked her.

 “Very illegal, Inquisitor-san.”

“O-kay, no more Mr. Nice Inquisitor-san,” Kormick said.  “Now you’re all under arrest.”  

Four more di Raprezzi guards leapt out of the bushes beside the road, and—it must have come from one of them—ear-splitting thunder erupted from the middle of the road.  The force made Tavi’s petrified figure shake, and he grimaced in pain.  The force hit Nyoko, too.

“As is attacking an Adept,” she noted with satisfaction as she shot back.  Her arrows struck guardsmen in clearly painful, but non-vital, locations.  

Savina stepped forward.  “Stop this, before someone gets hurt,” she said, with an air of outraged nobility that Twiggy had not seen in her before.  “I warn you, you are attacking a di Infusino.”

“Stay out of this,” Mariela hissed, and stared at Tavi.  Tavi’s face twisted in pain, and he cried out.  

“Stop.  That.”  Savina’s voice was forceful and commanding, and rang not only with the confidence of her own nobility, but also the divine power of Alirria.  Mariela was helpless to resist.  She stumbled backward and fell on her backside, glaring with impotent rage.  Savina continued.  “And stay down, or my father will have something to say about it.  Arden?”

“Yes, Blessed Daughter?”

“Attack the next person who is foolish enough to attack one of us.”

But Mariela showed no signs of relenting. The guards advanced, leveling orbs and halberds at Tavi and Nyoko.  “Please, Signor,” one of them murmured, “We do not want to hurt you.”

Tavi called each guard by name.  “This is a family matter,” he said as movement gradually returned to his body.  “If you wish to remain in the employ of the di Raprezzi family, you will not attack a di Raprezzi or any of our companions.  This need not come to blows.”  He bent gingerly, laid his sword on the ground, and offered his hand to help Mariela up.

Mariela did not take it, but rose slowly on her own.  “I have orders to bring you home.”

“From whom?”  Tavi asked.  

“From everyone.”

“That is not an answer,” Tavi replied.  “There are only two people who could give you an or—“

“Don’t be naive,” Mariela growled.  “You cannot imagine the holy storm you have unleashed in your mother.” 

_Their mother, Dona Giovanna,_ thought Twiggy.  Then, bitterly, _But at least Dona Giovanna loves her daughter._  She could feel her control slipping as her anger rose again.

Mariela raised her hands to cast.  Mena, still standing by Rose’s side, spoke up.  “Surely, we do not need to return this very second.  Let us take a few minutes to explain to you what we are doing.”

Mariela scowled.  “Dame Filomena, I am instructed to inform you that your services are no longer required by the di Raprezzi family.”  _Gods, did she just FIRE Mena?  Can she even do that?_

“But *I* will be heard,” Savina interjected.  “Fifteen minutes, and we will explain.”

“The house di Infusino has no standing here,” Mariela shot back.

Bile rose in Twiggy’s throat, and her grip tightened on the orb before her.  “I don’t understand!  Why can’t we just take fifteen minutes to talk?”

“Why?  Because I am tired of waiting! Because I have been living in this foul, foreign, stinking city waiting for you for two months! And because I don’t care what you—“

It was the last straw.  BAM!  Twiggy cast _Force Orb_, and the her spell knocked Mariela several feet backward.  “You don’t care?!”  Twiggy’s voice rose.  “You condescending witch!  You’ve never cared!  You’ve never cared about what’s right, or about the people around you . . . Well, you don’t get to not care anymore.  You don’t get to do this to me, or the people I care about.  You don’t get to—” Twiggy stopped as she realized she was yelling.  She looked around.  Everyone—everything—else was silent.  For a moment, embarrassment replaced rage.  But then she saw Mena, who offered a small, almost imperceptible, smile and nod.  The anger returned, but now it was controlled.  Quiet.  Powerful.  Twiggy held it in, tight and focused, and waited.

“You have dishonored this family once, Aunt Mariela,” said Tavi.  He took a step forward.   “You will not dishonor it again.”  His sword flew into his hand, and he raised it.  “Do not make me use this.”  

Mariela cast.  Tavi gave a gulping scream as the force hit his chest, and he stumbled backward, struggling to catch his balance and his breath.  Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Then all hell broke loose.


----------



## spyscribe

Naturally, Nyoko witnessed all of this with the dispassion of her training.  

SpyScribe, on the other hand, gets a huge kick whenever someone invokes Tavi and Rose's mother.  

Holy storm I'm sure.


----------



## StevenAC

spyscribe said:


> Naturally, Nyoko witnessed all of this with the dispassion of her training.
> 
> SpyScribe, on the other hand, gets a huge kick whenever someone invokes Tavi and Rose's mother.
> 
> Holy storm I'm sure.



I'm hoping we'll get another Special Guest Appearance by Lira (and Euro).  Particularly if Nyoko is still in the party... 

(BTW, chapters 12 and 13 are now up at the Collected Story Hour site.)


----------



## ellinor

*14x03*

To Twiggy, it seemed like everything happened at once.

Arden—who had somehow managed to sneak around everyone—ducked behind one of the guards and, with the pommel of her dagger, clocked Mariela in the head.  Mariela squawked with pain and vanished, re-appearing a few feet away, her attention still focused on Tavi.  Twiggy saw an opening, and cast _illusory ambush_ at Mariela, sending images of stones and arrows flying at her head.  As Mariela ducked and dodged, Tavi’s sword whipped from his hand and flew, end over end, at Mariela.  The butt of the sword struck her square in the chest, and she grunted as Tavi’s sword returned to his hand.  

Twiggy felt a swell of pride at the group’s impressive, yet non-lethal, show of force.  _See? I bet you thought we’d be afraid of you.  A month ago, we might have been. _  For a moment, it seemed as if one of Mariela’s guards was going to attack Arden, but Savina leveled her staff at him and called out:  “You!  Stop that!”  Her voice echoed with the power of Alirria behind it.  With a look of fear, he turned and ran, nearly tripping on the embankment as he dashed toward the trees beyond.  _Well done,_ thought Twiggy.  

Kormick charged a second guard and slammed one of his warhammers into the man's gut.  “You. Spotty.  You were in my class at the Sorcerer’s Academy,” Kormick said conversationally.  

“Jan Kormick--?”  the guard gasped, as the Justicar’s second warhammer landed right in his gut. 

Kormick raised his hammers again.  “Remember that thing I didn’t know how to do back then?”  Kormick asked.  He whispered something, and a burst of energy shot from between his hammers, arcing into the guard’s face.  

The guard ran toward the trees, following his companion.  “If you keep that up, you’ll just die tired!”  Kormick called after him, strolling toward the trees.  

Then a magic missile from one of the remaining guards struck Kormick between the shoulder blades.  “You should know better,” he sighed, and dashed back across the street.  With a swift motion, he whacked his new attacker in the back and then the kneecaps.  The guard fell, unconscious.   _That’s three guards we don’t have to worry about,_ Twiggy thought.  Mena growled at another guard and brandished her sword.  _Hopefully four._

But Twiggy’s moment of pride ended as, without warning, pain rang out from her shins—it was the shaft of one of the guards’ halberds—and she flipped forward, landing prone on the hard road.  Then, just as suddenly, Twiggy felt a thunderous force—from one of the spell-casting guards—shake her whole body.  As she struggled to rise, she saw that several of her companions had also been toppled by the spell.  Mariela recovered her balance and cast something new at Tavi just as he began to stand.  He gripped his head and fell, unconscious.

The group retaliated with well-calibrated force.  Arden threw her new magic dagger and its butt end struck Mariela in the head before returning to Arden’s hand.  Nyoko’s arrows grazed Mariela’s arms, drawing blood but not crippling her.  Savina called out to Alirria.  “Help us carry out your will!”  A ray of energy flew from Savina’s staff, shooting toward Mariela.  Mariela tried to shield her face, without success.  Blood from her arms smeared on her dress.  She cried out in pain and snarled “I’ve had about enough of your—“

_Not nearly enough,_ thought Twiggy.  _Your nephew is lying on the ground.  He has dedicated his life to protecting the family.  Your daughter is bruised and hurt.  She has dedicated her life to keeping *your* secret safe.  You think hurting us is good for the family’s honor?  You have the nerve to speak of familial disrespect? _  “You just. Don’t.  Get it.” said Twiggy, calmly, and ignited her fireball.

Mariela’s dress erupted in flames, and she flailed wildly, trying to put out the fire.  Twiggy moved the fireball away a few inches.  Mariela staggered… and fell, unconscious.  Twiggy let the fire wink out.

Savina ran to Tavi’s side and healed his wounds.  “*Now* can we put a stop to this?” she asked, her voice still strong.  

Mena stared down the remaining guards, each of whom knew her well.  “Now would be a good time to put down your weapons,” she said, softly.  They all did, except one, who paused, his eye on Mariela.  Mena gave him a grim, knowing wink.  He gulped, and put down his halberd.  The only guard who didn’t surrender was the one whom Savina had frightened—he was still running deeper into the forest.

As Kormick and Nyoko bound Mariela, and Savina healed her, Mena pulled Twiggy aside.  “Breathe,” Mena suggested.  

Twiggy gulped air, and stared into the distance.  _Breathe.  Good idea.  Mena always has good advice._

“I just . . . I never realized,” Twiggy said, after a while.  “I knew I was angry, but . . . I have always envied Rose and Tavi.  Their futures were free and mine was decided.  I will always be a servant.  Now I realize . . . Rose and Tavi don’t have that choice either.  Between Sedellus and Dona Giovanna—their futures are no more free than Arden’s.”  She paused for another breath, following Mena’s advice.  “But at least they aren’t walking, talking risks to their family’s honor.”

“You are ten times the honorable woman your mother is,” said Mena.  

###

Tavi knew his mother would be angry.  Nor was he surprised that she had sent people to follow them.  What surprised him was that she thought Tavi would choose *anything* over helping Rose.  Or, frankly, that she thought being trapped back at the Estate would do anything to keep Rose safe.  Maybe sending Mariela packing back to Pol Henna would impress upon their mother the seriousness of their mission.  _Who am I kidding,_ he thought.  This wasn’t the last they’d hear from their mother.  But at least now she’d know they were alive and well, and—as a tinge of vindictiveness crept into his mind—he couldn’t imagine that creating an international incident by attacking a team of Inquisitors and an Adept would do anything for Mariela’s standing in the family.

They brought Mariela—kicking and screaming, but well-contained by their Inquisitors’ manacles—back to the Hall of the Inquisitors.  

Nyoko recounted the day’s events.  Lord Ono stared at her as she did so. Then held his head in his hands.  “You know what I don’t need?”  he asked, gesturing to the piles of paper on his desk and floor, which seemed, somehow, to have grown.  “This.  This is what I don’t need.”

After some discussion, it was agreed that the di Raprezzi household guards would not be punished—they did not act with malice against the Inquisition—and Mariela’s case would be addressed by Lord Ono’s clerks.  Although Mariela had intentionally attacked the Inquisition, it was decided that she had done so without knowledge of Sovereign laws, and therefore would not be subject to the traditional penalty of execution.  The fact that executing a scion of House di Raprezzi might jeopardize the Sovereignty’s access to the Teleport Network—to say nothing of potentially risking war with Pol Henna—played no small part in the Inquisition’s lenience.

Whatever the reason, Tavi heaved a sigh of relief.

As they rode out the Cauldron gates for the second time, Savina was angrily writing a letter to her father.  _Whatever’s in there,_ Tavi thought, _it can’t be good._

“Is your Aunt usually so . . . abrasive?” asked Savina, looking up from her letter.  

“She has never been my favorite relative,” Tavi replied, “but in her way, she is a good and honorable member of the family di Raprezzi.”

Savina smiled at his return to Hennan decorum.  “And Twiggy,” she added, “are you all right?  It seemed there was something . . . personal between you and Signora Mariela.”

Tavi focused on Twiggy so hard that he thought he might bore a hole in her head.  “We do have some history,” Twiggy understated, “but that is no excuse for my losing control of my emotions.”

_Well done,_ Tavi thought.


----------



## Seonaid

Cool! My favorite part was the _illusory ambush_. Never heard of that spell before.


----------



## ellinor

Thanks, Seonaid!  

Yes, _Illusory Ambush_ is a great spell -- it's an at-will power that does 1d6+4 psychic damage and gives the opponent -2 to its attack rolls until the end of my next turn.  For some reason -- I don't remember what it is now (maybe a feat?) if Twiggy hits with Illusory Ambush (or any other illusion spell), Twiggy also gets +2 to hit the same target with any attack until the end of her next turn.  So you can imagine, Illusory Ambush has become Twiggy's go-to combat spell!  (Fortunately, I don't have to say each time what sort of illusion I'm sending...)


----------



## WisdomLikeSilence

I have to say the encounter with Mariela was one of my favorite sessions of the game so far.   Everyone had juicy role-playing reactions, and there were several times that players simply had to stand-up in order to properly declaim their impassioned speeches.  It was awesome.

Plus, Savina got to play offended princess instead of her usual hesitant girl.  The very thought that anyone from Pol Henna would *knowingly* attack a Di Infusino... humph!


----------



## Falkus

Now that was a nice fight to read. Very satisfying reading about Mariela being trounced 

I also have to thank you for the idea I've gotten from this story hour: When I conclude the current DnD campaign I'm running, the next one I've got planned will take place in the same setting, but a generation or two down the line.

Of course, this rather hinges on my current party actually managing to save the world...


----------



## Ilex

SO fun to read all the comments, everyone!  Thanks!!  



Falkus said:


> Now that was a nice fight to read. Very satisfying reading about Mariela being trounced




I'll second what WisdomLikeSilence said... this was a particularly entertaining (and tense) fight largely because the emotional stakes felt so high for a number of the players.  Even those of us with less of a direct character-based stake in this conflict found it incredibly dramatic to watch Twiggy, Tavi, and Savina take Mariela on in their various ways, PLUS we had to figure out whether/how we should stick our noses into this familial conflict without getting ourselves in too much trouble.



Falkus said:


> I also have to thank you for the idea I've gotten from this story hour: When I conclude the current DnD campaign I'm running, the next one I've got planned will take place in the same setting, but a generation or two down the line.
> 
> Of course, this rather hinges on my current party actually managing to save the world...




Just don't let them save the world _perfectly_...    It's the tiny, so very well-intentioned _im_perfections that can be the seeds of the next campaign... I think Fajitas and/or spyscribe will back me up on that?


----------



## ellinor

*14x03*

It would be five days’ travel to High Pass Village—the estate of the couple to be married—and Mariela had delayed them by nearly a day.  _She never makes anything easy,_ thought Twiggy.  

They pushed hard on their first day of travel, and the exertion kept Twiggy from dwelling too much on matters of Hennan hierarchy.  It seemed to have the same effect on Mena and Arden, who chatted amiably when Mena took Kormick’s place at the reins.  It seemed they were trading stories like old friends.  Indeed, things were looking up.  As the sun set, they had almost reached a Sovereign way-station.  They might be able to make up the lost time if they kept going at this rate.  

As they made camp for the evening and Arden pulled out the cookpot, Savina pulled Twiggy aside.   

“Twiggy,” she began, “I need your help.”

_Savina, asking for my help?_ Twiggy thought.  _Perhaps the hierarchy is breaking down faster than I thought._

“It’s Arden,” Savina continued.  “I am afraid that she may be…that she may require a reminder of her place.  She is…overstepping.  At first, that night when Mena washed the dishes, I began to be concerned, but it has grown worse.  Today, they are sharing duties, and in the market yesterday, Arden was downright defiant.”

“Oh?” was all Twiggy could think to say.

“Ordinarily, you understand, this is the sort of thing I would talk to the Butler about.  But out here, we have no Butler.  As Rose’s lady-in-waiting, you are the next best thing.  I was hoping you could have a word with her.”

Twiggy smiled.  There was a time when being compared to the Butler would have seemed quite the honor.  Now, it seemed insufficient.  “Certainly, I will talk with her.  But if I may…”  Twiggy took a deep breath.  “Dame Mena has been a great teacher, not only to Rose and Tavi, but also to me.  One of the things that she taught us is that inequality breeds resentment.  As she explains it, inequality is a tool of Sedellus to sow doubt among people, and from there, evil may grow.”

Savina looked puzzled.

“What I mean to say is that Arden works very hard for us, and has risked her life for us.  The more she is treated as an equal, as part of the group, the more she will feel invested in our well-being, and the more she will be willing to risk.  That can only be a good thing for our safety, and Rose’s.”

“Hmm,” said Savina.  It seemed to Twiggy that she had raised something to which Savina had never given much thought.  But if this was a matter of stepping out of one’s place…Twiggy was way outside her place. 

“But of course, I will talk to her.  Right away.”  

Savina nodded and turned away.  Twiggy sighed.

Chelesta, all of Dame Mena’s stuff about inequality sounds pretty silly when you say it out loud, Acorn chimed in.

Twiggy sighed again.

###



> Excerpts from the notebook of Jan Kormick:
> 
> *May 18*
> Terrain:  Well-kept Sovereign roadway.   Day 2 of travel to the District of the Rich Hillsides Terraced for Growth, aka Hillside District.
> 
> Sovereigns.
> 
> It seems we have left the family drama and the ensuing violence behind, for the moment, and we have resumed our travel to the Hillside District in our role as Inquisitors.  Savina is intent on getting there as quickly as possible, and I cannot blame the girl—this Nishi character is abusing his authority in the most repugnant way.  This man must be taught a lesson:  authority should be abused only in the right situations.  One with authority must learn to tell the difference.
> 
> On the road, we are shunned by fellow travelers, who cower at the sight of our gray Inquisitors’ robes.  In Dar Und, there is seldom a difference between respect and fear.  Here, I find I would rather be respected.  Curious.
> 
> Speaking of respect, Arden has become quiet again.  I liked it better when she was talking, if you call a few words a day talking.  She had a sense of humor, believe it or not.  Now she’s back to mystery.  Best to know what your murder-slave is thinking, I say.
> 
> *May 21*
> Day 5 on well-kept Sovereign roads.  Hills by the road are terraced for agriculture.
> 
> We have crossed a river now and are approaching High Pass Village, the home of the couple to be married.  We should arrive there this afternoon.
> 
> A peasant approached us today, standing tall and not kowtowing.  Apparently this simply is not done among Sovereign peasants, and Nyoko was quite scandalized.  Come to learn that as Inquisitors, our power includes the execution of insufficiently subordinate peasants.  Without question, in matters of power, the one with the hammer does all the agreeing for everyone…but there is power, and there is power.  Where is the proportionality?
> 
> It turns out the peasant had good reason to be angry, although not at us, specifically—his daughter was ordered to take place in this wedding-night business. She (quite sensibly) chose to postpone her wedding rather than participate.  Lord Nishi—he’s the one we’re after—apparently sent his guards to bring her.  They either did not know or did not care that the wedding had been postponed, and when she refused to go with them they executed her.  The previous Inquisitors sent to Hillside District saw nothing wrong with this.  Add it to the list of abuses.
> 
> 
> *May 21, cont’d*
> Have arrived at the Keep at the Village Near the High Pass Leading to the District of the Rich Hillsides Terraced for Growth.  Kettenek help me if I have to write the name of the whole place again.  From now on, it is the Keep at High Pass Village.
> 
> It is also heavily guarded.  As if preparing to be attacked.
> 
> Myosho Hokuta (the husband, also Masa-san’s cousin who brought this whole matter to the Adepts’ attention) and Lady Oroko Cho (the wife and noble-lady) recounted the situation in greater detail than we had from Lord Ono.  It seems we have made a close shave of the timing:  Lady Oroko is expected to present herself to sleep with Lord Nishi tomorrow night, and the wedding is the following day.  That wouldn’t leave us much time even if Nishi’s estate weren’t nearly a day’s travel away.
> 
> We have two tasks:  determine whether Nishi’s rape scheme is a heresy (it seems they will not just take Savina’s word for it, although I don’t see why not) and punish those responsible.  But the legal formalities make a hash of this whole thing.  Nishi’s men will show up here tomorrow to collect Lady Oroko.  She can’t refuse a direct order from her liege lord (even if that order is to sleep with him), and we can’t give her permission to decline until we've proven, with evidence and everything, that Nishi's actions are heretical.
> 
> In fact, according to Nyoko, by declaring that she won’t sleep with Nishi, Lady Oroko is already in defiance of her liege lord, which is against the law.  Nishi’s men have probably already left for High Pass to collect her.  So when they show up tomorrow, her choice will be to go with them, be killed for insubordination… or begin an open revolt by resisting with force.  She has already chosen open revolt—knowing that if she does not die in battle, the Ring of Peerage will hand down an order of execution for treason.  Death or death.  Her husband has offered to go perform the rite in her stead, but she forbade it.  She is willing to delay her wedding by one day, but (understandably) not for more.  (“Would your Goddess of love demand that I forestall my love for my betrothed?” she demanded)  And if we stay here to defend her—_i.e.,_ delay our investigation of Nishi—we’ll be violating our oaths as Inquisitors by defending an insubordinate woman without cause.  Madness.
> 
> It is as if Savina has steam coming from her ears, and I can see why.  What's the point of having a legal system if you can’t manipulate it?
> 
> It seems our only choice is to get ourselves over to Nishi’s estate, investigate, and get this declared a heresy before Nishi’s guards arrive here in High Pass.  It is as easy as feeding cabbage to a goat…if the goat were a day’s ride away and the cabbage were protected by a small army.
> 
> Now it is dark; we will set out first thing in the morning.


----------



## Seonaid

Oh, Kormick! <3


----------



## Ilex

*15x01*

A warm, late-spring breeze danced around the carriage as it drew to a stop before the ironclad doors of Lord Nishi's keep.  Mena ignored its playfulness.  If the Twilight Goddess expected it to trick them, to put them at ease, Mena would have none of it.  The stone walls rising before them concealed their quarry:  Lord Nishi, heretic and rapist.  Mena had already braced herself to encounter him.  _An overbearing noble, blinded by his position to the cruelties he inflicts.  In other words, one of Sedellus's favorite tools._

She stepped out of the carriage – Savina joined her – and stood by as Kormick pounded on the doors.  Kormick, she noted without surprise, was skillful at pounding on doors.  "Open for the Inquisition!" he hollered.

A moment passed.  Kormick turned to Mena and Savina.  "How long should we give them before we break in?" he asked.

Mena glanced wryly at the silent, faceless structure.  "Breaking in might at least get their attention," she answered.

Then a little window slid open in the door and a man's stern face glared out.  "The Inquisition has come and gone," he said.

Kormick opened his mouth to respond, but Savina beat him to it.  "And has returned. We come as deputized Inquisitors from Lord Ono in Cauldron," she said. "As an Alirrian expert, I in particular will be reviewing the work of the earlier Inquisitors.  Surely you have nothing to hide?"  Her voice was sweetly diplomatic, but Mena heard the steel underneath it. Savina had learned so much in such a short time.

Nyoko had also left the carriage and now glided up beside them, her Adept robes and Sovereign features tearing the man's gaze away from Savina.  "I am Nyoko of Cauldron," she announced.  "I give you my formal word as an Adept that these esteemed heathens speak truth.  They represent the Inquisition."  The man studied the tattoos on her face for a moment, and then slammed the sliding window shut.  A moment later, with a rumble, the great doors opened.

The man, who was wearing sturdy workclothes and several blades, bowed them into the inner courtyard.  "I am Yutaka," he said.  "Captain of Lord Nishi's guard.  You will forgive my skepticism, of course.  These are complicated times."

Yutaka glanced meaningfully around them: the inner courtyard, in contrast to the quiet exterior of the keep, was bustling.  Castle guardsmen were oiling the mechanism that controlled a wicked-looking portcullis, rolling barrels of supplies into storage sheds, and making other siege preparations.  Mena raised an eyebrow.  “Precautionary measures," Yutaka answered her unspoken question.  "The serfs grow restless.  It is, of course, unthinkable that they would rise up against Lord Nishi, but…” he shrugged.

“And what of those men?” Mena asked, nodding towards a troop of soldiers who were mounting up.  

"They are preparing to leave for High Pass, to fetch Lady Oroko here in accordance with my Lord's will and that of our Lady Alirria," Yutaka explained in neutral tones.

"Yes, wonderful," said Kormick.  "How bold of them to show no fear about that mission, even though our presence here suggests that they may soon be convicted heretics dying very horrible deaths."  He spoke loudly.  Sure enough, the soldiers heard him, and Mena caught a few alarmed looks.  

Yutaka looked faintly sickened, too, but all he said was, "If you will come this way, I will see that my Lord is informed of your arrival."

He showed them into the castle, where another man, this one dressed in simple but expensive robes and armed only with the ceremonial wakizashi, met them.

"I am Kawazu Kameyo, seneschal of this Estate," he said, bowing.  "I will bring you before my Lord Nishi."  

He said nothing more, and they followed him in silence as he stalked down a stone hallway and escorted them into an audience chamber.  The two elevated chairs at the far end were unoccupied, and the sunlight didn't reach this room, causing the huge stained-glass holy symbol of Alirria set in one window to seem cold and drab.  The lofty ceilings only made the shadowy room feel more like a high-walled trap.  Kawazu left and the door thudded shut behind him.

"Be on your guard," Mena murmured to Tavi.

"Constantly," he said.  Kormick's hand was resting on the haft of one of his warhammers.  Arden lingered by the door where they'd entered, her wary eyes meeting Mena's briefly before scanning the room.  Savina inspected the holy symbol.  "It's accurate," she concluded.

Then they all heard a raised voice coming from behind a second door near the two thrones.  The voice grew louder as its owner grew closer, and suddenly Mena could make out words:  "—could not have waited until tomorrow?!  In our Lady's Name, we were just about to—" The door crashed open and in swept a young man in ostentatious robes, adjusting a heavy medallion of office around his neck.  He was followed by a finely dressed woman and Kawazu, who looked cowed but called out, "Inquisitors, my Lord and Lady Nishi will hear you now."

Lord Nishi flopped into his throne.  His wife seated herself primly beside him.  "Cocky looking bunch, aren't they?" Lord Nishi asked no one in particular as Mena and the others walked forward.  "Not bowing, even in the presence of a Governor?"  

Lady Nishi said nothing.  She merely looked down at the floor before her. "They _are_ heathens, Nishi-san," murmured Kawazu apologetically. 

Kormick didn't bow.  "We are here on the authority of Lord Ono," he said.  "I assume you know why."

"I must say, I don’t know why,” complained Lord Nishi.  "I’ve been through this once, and I can't believe I have to go through it a second time." He pushed himself to the edge of his chair.  "Persecution, that’s what it is.  Persecution plain and simple.  As I have repeatedly told my household, my vassals, and the first batch of Inquisitors, I'm practicing the rite just like it says to in _The Lady's Ways_.  We're converting the district to public Alirrian worship the right way, everything above-board, and this rite in particular, tiresome though it might be, does provide a way for me to get to know my people better, that's all you need to know, are we done now?" 

"Lord Nishi," said Kormick, "That is _not even close_ to all that we need to know.  Where did you say you first learned about this rite?" 

Nishi rolled his eyes and flapped a hand at Kawazu.  "A glass of something, Kawazu, instantly."  Kawazu stepped to a sideboard, poured a single glass, and presented it to his lord as Nishi continued.  "I'll trust you've studied up on the situation – you know that my wife comes from a long line of Alirrians, yes?  That they lived in secret during the years of persecution prior to the Affirmation?  And that I converted to her religion when we married?  Well, then, we inherited her father's library when he died, vast dusty piles of books, ghastly, so much reading, and among them was _The Lady's Ways_, very important, very _thick_, and it spells out exactly what my duties are.  I love my wife –" he paused to lift his glass to the lady beside him, who smiled back, tightly – "and I wish to honor the religion that she has brought to my house.  So … I'll do what I must."

"How can you imagine that you _must_ commit rape?" Savina burst out. "Alirria would never condone your committing such cruelty against your people."

"Cruelty to them, is it?  Have you considered that this isn't easy on me, either?  There were three weddings in one day last month!  I was exhausted!  It never stops!  I barely have any energy left for my wife!  But this is what worship of the Lady demands, and so it shall be done.  And don’t think you can intimidate us into doing otherwise." 

Mena was speechless.  The others were speechless, too.  This was not exactly the calculating villain they had expected.  

Mena still didn’t like him.

Foolishly taking their silence for satisfaction with his answer, Nishi leaned back in his chair.  "I imagine you'll insist upon staying for a few days, anyway, and asking everyone questions, making your report look good," he said airily.  "Do as you must, et cetera, et cetera.  Kawazu will show you around the place.  Kindly don't trouble me and my wife if you can help it, though?"

The party continued to be speechless until Kawazu had shown them to a suite of rooms for their use.  Only after the door closed upon the seneschal did Tavi say, slowly, "I guess … Lord Nishi was … misled?"

"How could someone be _that_ misled?" asked Savina.

"He's like Nyoko here," said Kormick.  "He was raised a certain way, can't see beyond it."

"He is not at all like Nyoko," said Mena.  "Nyoko has brains."

"Excellent point, Dame Mena," Kormick conceded.  "So we're all basically agreed, then, that Lord Nishi is an idiot and therefore entirely unlike Nyoko."

"So Witnessed," declared Nyoko heartily.  Twiggy suppressed a giggle, Rose chuckled, and Tavi grinned, announcing:  "Hey, Nyoko just made a joke!"  Nyoko didn't smile, but she had a twinkle in her eye, and Mena liked her more for it.

Savina brought them back to seriousness.  "If Lord Nishi was truly tricked into committing these crimes," she said, "then he is a fool, but he isn't the heretic we're looking for.  We're looking for the person who tricked him."

"Who would do such a thing?" wondered Twiggy. "And why?"

Mena thought back over the many ways that Sedellus sowed dissent and discord.  Sometimes, troublemakers were more effective when they undermined and discredited their opponents instead of attacking them outright.  "We may be dealing with an undercover agent of the Tide," she said out loud.  "Someone who wants to make Alirrian worship seem evil so that people will turn against it."

"That could be anyone here," said Tavi.  

"Well," said Kormick.  "Let's start asking questions."


----------



## Ilex

*15x02*

Their questions led them first to the keep's library, where the book called _The Lady's Ways_—the one that Lord Nishi cited as his source for the rite—was stored.  Kawazu, the seneschal, took them there personally. 

Twiggy found the library faintly depressing from the moment she entered it, though at first she couldn't quite say why.  It was a perfectly fine library:  nowhere near as big as the Adepts' library in Cauldron, of course, but comparable to the di Raprezzis' library back home.  Many old, ornate, fascinating books lined the shelves.  Then, as she stepped closer, she saw that the books were covered in a fine layer of dust.  And, after Kawazu pulled _The Lady's Ways_ off a shelf, he set it on a dimly lit table surrounded only by stiff, uncomfortable-looking chairs.

_Ah ha_, thought Twiggy, realizing what the problem with the place was.  _This room and these books are not owned by people who love reading._

The book Kawazu had placed before them, however, was beautiful:  it had tooled leather covers and, as he opened it, Twiggy glimpsed rich illuminations accompanying the steady hand of a master scribe.  Kawazu began flipping pages, but Mena held out her hand to stop him.

"If you would be so kind, Seneschal, we will take it from here," she said.  

Kawazu looked nonplussed.  "It is unacceptable for me to leave you in here alone with the collection," he said.  "These are valuable books—not that you would harm them deliberately, of course, but unintentional damage—"

"I am quite certain we will handle your lord's books with great care," said Mena.  

"We _love_ books," Twiggy explained.

"These books are unusually special," said Kawazu, continuing to balk.  "They belonged to my Lady Nishi's father—most of them were copied and decorated by his own hand—"

"Did he do this one?" asked Twiggy, glancing again at the fine scribal hand on the pages of _The Lady's Ways_.

"Yes," Kawazu said warily.

"It is crucial that our investigation be untainted by your influence," said Kormick.  "I propose a compromise.  Step aside and let us work, but remain in the room and tell us to stop if we—I don't know, set fire to things or whatever it is you fear."

"Not so long ago, the Inquisition would eagerly have burned these books," said Kawazu, without humor.

"Those days are past now," said Savina.  "You can trust us.  Please?"

Twiggy glimpsed Nyoko twitch with some kind of impatience, but Kawazu relented.  He took up a silent and watchful position by the door.  As soon as he was out of the way, Twiggy, Mena, and Savina practically pounced on the book.  Mena began turning pages with great care.

They flipped past page after page of Alirrian aphorisms, Alirrian prayers, and Alirrian rites.  The text was sparse, and there were lots of pictures.  It was not, Twiggy thought, a particularly deep book.  In fact, though it was beautiful, its content was bland and so obviously orthodox that nobody even needed Savina to confirm it.  Then, finally, on a page just like the others, they found it:  "The Rite of Joyous Union."  They leaned in closer to read…

_As two people are joined in joyous union into one family, and as all who owe their allegiance to their liege lord are unto them as part of a family, so too shall the liege be made part of the family by taking one of the partners to their bed the night before the wedding._

There was a silence as they all took it in.  

"Lord Kawazu, you said that Lady Nishi's father copied this book?" said Tavi finally.

"Indeed, Inquisitor-san.  He was a fine scribe; these books were his in every sense of the word."

"And where is he now?"

"He died of pneumonia nearly a year ago."

"Well, if we cannot talk to the man himself," said Savina, "then I think it's time we spoke with his daughter."

### 

As the party waited in Lady Nishi's parlor for her appearance—and she seemed to be taking her time—Nyoko decided to bring up something that had been troubling her. 

"Honored heathens, if I may…" she ventured.  Nearly as one, they all politely turned to her.  

"Yes, Nyoko-san?" asked Savina curiously.

Nyoko stared at them, in their solemn Inquisitorial robes, and wondered how to say what needed to be said.  "You—" she began.  "You might need to know—You are the _least_ convincing Inquisitors _ever_! How do you expect to get anywhere by being so _nice_?"  She had not expected to let the words burst out in quite that way, but she had spent the entire morning being so flummoxed.  

There was a slight pause as the party absorbed her words.

"I have been accused of being many things," said Kormick.  "'Nice' is not one of them."

"Honored Justicar," said Nyoko, "I happen to think that you _are_ nice, in your way, and I appreciate that.  I appreciate that about all of you:  you say please, you offer compromises.  But while you are acting as Inquisitors, you _must_ be cold, aloof, and dangerous."

"I hope you're not suggesting that we should have killed that peasant who did not bow to us on the road," said Mena, sounding cold, aloof, and dangerous.  

"It would not be my role to suggest such things or not," said Nyoko. "I merely point out a matter of protocol.  You did not teach him to respect you as he ought.  The same is true here, with Seneschal Kawazu-san, for example.  If you don’t command proper respect, you will get none."

"But surely respect can be earned in many ways," said Savina.  "Sometimes you earn it by making people feel comfortable and respected themselves." 

"Savina, again you surprise me with your knowledge of Undian tactics," said Kormick. "I wouldn't have believed you knew about the Mutton Jig."

There was another pause.

"I'm sorry?"

"You know, you know:  when you lure the mark in for a rich meal and many drinks before stabbing him in his very full gut.  That said, Lady Nyoko, I also take your point.  There may come a time when straightforward force is required."

Nyoko seized the opening.  "I propose a system of signs," she said.  "If, during the rest of the investigation, you say or do something that is far too friendly for an Inquisitor, I will stroke my eyebrow."  She demonstrated carefully.  "If circumstances become such that you ought to threaten them with the full weight of your Inquisitorial power, I will tug on my ear."

She wasn't sure they were paying as much attention as they should.  Savina, for example, was still gaping at the Justicar's reference to his homeland's dismal-sounding mealtime traditions.  _That's all I can do,_ Nyoko concluded silently.  _Anything more, and I'll be interfering with an Inquisition, not simply offering instruction about protocol._  Nyoko bit her tongue, and moments later, the door opened. As Lady Nishi stepped into the room, emanating privilege and resistance, Nyoko waited to see how these inexperienced Inquisitors answered the noblewoman's silent challenge.


----------



## ellinor

Just to keep everyone up to date -- it's deadline-o-rama here in Halmae Central, so we're all a bit crazed.  "Law & Order: Hillside District" will update soon!


----------



## SolitonMan

I've been reading this thread lately, after recently finishing the original Welcome to the Halmae.  Both have been very fun reads, and as everyone else who follows along, I'm eagerly awaiting the next update!     I just figured I'd take this opportunity during the lull to express my admiration for the players, characters, writers and, of course, DM for this imaginative group!  Thanks so much for sharing this with all of us.    I hope your game endures for years, as well as your endurance for updating us here!!  

Also, and not to go too off topic I hope, let me say how much I love "Leverage"!  I see it mentioned here from time to time, and I really enjoy it!  The characters totally make the show, and it's no surprise to me that the same is reflected in this story hour.  It seems almost a synchronicity bordering on predestinat- oops, sorry, slipped into Giles-speak there for a second!   

Anyway, thank again and please keep up the great work!!


----------



## Ilex

Wow, SolitonMan, thanks for the very kind words!  We have so much fun playing, and I'm really enjoying sharing that fun with more people by writing the Story Hour.  As I mentioned 'way back at the beginning, this is my first time playing any role-playing game, and I was ... skeptical ... but Fajitas and each of my fellow players have won me over to the ranks of enthusiastic DnD'ers more completely than I ever expected to be won.  Collaborative improv storytelling is basically one of the best hobbies EVER.

Thanks again!


----------



## Ilex

[Whoops, posted twice by mistake when really I was just trying to add the "PS" that appears below:  look for an update tomorrow.  Anyone know how to delete duplicates?]

Wow, SolitonMan, thanks for the very kind words!  We have so much fun playing, and I'm really enjoying sharing that fun with more people by writing the Story Hour.  As I mentioned 'way back at the beginning, this is my first time playing any role-playing game, and I was ... skeptical ... but Fajitas and each of my fellow players have won me over to the ranks of enthusiastic DnD'ers more completely than I ever expected to be won.  Collaborative improv storytelling is basically one of the best hobbies EVER.

Thanks again!

PS: Look for an update tomorrow.


----------



## Ilex

*15x03*

Savina paid close attention to Lady Nishi's movements as the woman sat down on the edge of a chair opposite them and smoothed her skirts.  Her stiff body and refusal to make steady eye contact with her visitors suggested not only aristocratic distance—an attitude Savina knew well—but also something else:  she was nervous.  _I wonder if she has something to hide, or if she just thinks that Inquisitors are scary?_

"Thank you for taking the time to speak with us," Tavi began.  Nyoko gently brushed her eyebrow.  At the silent hint that he was being too polite for an Inquisitor, Tavi fell silent.  Savina could guess why:  he was perfectly capable of giving orders, of course, but giving orders to an older woman of his own station went against all his courtly training.

Kormick jumped into the gap.  "Lady Nishi, tell us about this book, _The Lady's Ways._  Your father copied it?"

Lady Nishi became, if possible, even stiffer.  "I don't recall, Inquisitor-san," she said, and Savina thought she seemed evasive rather than forgetful.  

Kormick persisted.  "But he did copy most of the Alirrian books that are now in your library?"

"He did.  Since the Affirmation, it is our right to possess Alirrian books."  In a flash of understanding, Savina diagnosed the Lady's problem just as she might diagnose an illness from a single symptom:  Lady Nishi feared persecution for her religion, so she feared Inquisitors.  

Savina spoke up before Kormick could continue.  "Lady Nishi," she said.  "My name is Savina di Infusino, and I'm a Blessed Daughter of the Givers.  I'm an Alirrian, and I—I  assure you, the Inquisition respects the Affirmation now."

Lady Nishi looked from Savina's Inquisitorial robes up to her face.  "You?  An Alirrian?" 

Savina pulled the necklace with her Alirrian holy symbol out from under the robes, showing it to the woman.  She intuitively felt that the cure for Lady Nishi's fears lay not in Kormick's bluntness, Mena's sternness, Twiggy's logic, or Nyoko's protocol.  

The cure was a personal connection.  Following her instincts, Savina said, "When I was little, I always loved the holy days of Alirria.  It seemed like the whole city was covered with flowers, and everyone was in such a good mood.  But I didn't really—I didn't understand what it meant—until I was older.  Then, one year at the Spring Invocation, I really _heard_ the words of the prayers for the first time, and I loved them.  I had my maid escort me to services every week after that, until I was old enough to join the Givers.  And on this journey—I can't explain, exactly, but the Goddess—I've felt closer to her than ever.  And I love her more than ever."

She held Lady Nishi's eyes with her own.  Detecting what she hoped was a slight softening in the woman's gaze, Savina took a deep breath and continued.  "I'm here as an Inquisitor because—Lady Nishi, this rite that your husband celebrates is contrary to everything I've learned about Alirria.  I'm not accusing you of heresy, but I think someone has lied to you."

Lady Nishi said nothing.  

Softly, Savina continued.  "Allow me to ask… does the rite help you feel love and happiness?" 

It was Lady Nishi's turn to take a deep breath.  Then she shook her head no.  "I tolerate it," she sighed.  "I tolerate it because the book says that Alirrians must do so, and I am loyal to the Goddess."

"Allirian rites are supposed to be more fun than that," observed Kormick.

"Did your father practice it?" Savina pressed.

"No," Lady Nishi admitted.  "Not before my marriage took me away from home, certainly, and he never mentioned it later."

"So it follows that your father did not have this book, _The Lady's Ways_, at the time you were married?" Kormick asked.

"I did not have exhaustive knowledge of his collection…"

But Savina sensed that she was saying "no."  Lady Nishi didn't believe the book belonged to her father, but she was trying hard not to cast doubt on any part of his library, for some reason.

"Do you have any idea where it came from, then?" asked Kormick.

"It arrived with his library after he died.  My serving woman Rin supervised the shipment."

"Is there anything else you can tell us that might be helpful?" Savina asked.

Lady Nishi shook her head.  

"In that case," said Savina, "thank you very much for your help, Lady Nishi."  Savina stood up, and the others stood up around her.  

As they moved to the door, Lady Nishi jumped to her feet.  "Inquisitor Savina-san!" she said.  Savina turned around to see Lady Nishi crossing her arms self-protectively, obviously still more frightened than angry.

"Yes, Lady Nishi?"

"You will not—the Inquisition will not—you will not use this one false book, if it is proven to be such, as an excuse to destroy my father's library—will you?"

"Of course not!" Savina said, saddened that the woman would even think entertain such a paranoid thought, but understanding, now, why she was so reluctant to help them prove that the rite was a heresy:  she was terrified that the Inquisition might overreact.

"And the Inquisition will not—you will not stamp out all Alirrian worship?"

"Never," said Savina.

Unexpectedly, Mena spoke up.  "I do not follow Alirria," the Defier said in her low, even voice, "but I have put myself on a path to see her will fulfilled.  One thing I know:  no one can stamp out the Goddess.  She is greater than we are."

After a moment, Lady Nishi nodded in quiet agreement. Then, without another word, she bowed them out of the room.


----------



## ellinor

*15x04*

"It is a forgery," Nyoko announced, straightening up from a close examination of _The Lady's Ways_.  "A very, very fine forgery.  I doubt even I would have noticed the telltale details if I hadn't been primed to look for them—"

"What are the details?" Mena asked. 

Nyoko pulled one of the other books from the collection across the reading table.  "This is definitively in the hand of Lady Nishi's father," she said.  "Note the ascenders on the 'H's—do you see the pen flick here?  And here?  Now compare…" She pointed to a letter in _The Lady's Ways_.  "No flick.  Also, Lady Nishi's father closes his 'A' more decisively—you see?  Here.  And here.  By Kettenek, it is remarkably well done..."

Mena and Twiggy were both bent over Nyoko, following her pointing finger.  Kormick, standing nearby, cracked his back, which felt tight just watching them.  He had always thought that one of the worst parts of this whole Justicar business was the occasional need to squint for hours at dusty law books while Brother Scribe exhorted him to memorize comically narrow and specific definitions of self-defense…_as if "I had to get him before he got me" wasn't good enough for Kettenek._

"Kawazu-san?" called Nyoko.  The man was standing by the door once more, chaperoning the books.  

"Yes, Honored Adept?"

"Has any Adept been attached to this household in the last year?"

"No, Honored Adept."

"What about other professional artisans?  Anyone with the skills to copy this?"

"No, Honored Adept.  Lady Nishi’s father was a rare talent, and lived all the way across the Ketkath from here.  There is no one in this area with his skill."

"An amateur couldn't do this," said Nyoko.  "This is Adept-quality work."

"So whoever planted this forgery was either was an Adept, or had the money to buy one," Kormick said. "Assuming we're correct that Lord Nishi is too dense to have arranged this himself, we'd better not cross Lady Nishi off the list, since she has money and access."

"No motive, though," mused Mena.  

There was a knock on the library door.  Kawazu opened the door and a small, matronly woman stepped in. 

"Inquisitors," said Kawazu, "Housekeeper Rin awaits your pleasure."

"Very timely," said Kormick.  "Seneschal, would you mind giving us some privacy?"

The man frowned.  "I cannot.  My duties to my Lord's books—" 

"Yes, yes, at any moment Twiggy over there might ignite a fireball that consumes your Lord's collection.  Keep a wary eye."  Kormick ignored Twiggy's gasp of outrage at the very thought.  Instead, he took Rin's arm and marched her out of the room.  "Where can we talk?" he asked the startled woman.

She pointed shakily to a door across the hall.

Kormick—and Nyoko, Mena, and Savina—followed the woman into a small sitting room.  Rin bustled through the room, muttering while she straightened cushions:  "This room, the maids have been negligent, I'm so sorry, I've no wish to annoy the Inquisition—"

Kormick noticed Nyoko rubbing her eyebrow as if suffering from a fairly severe itch, and he took the hint.  "Rin," he said.  "In a long line of things that have annoyed the Inquisition on this trip, you are but the latest.  Be still."

Immediately, Nyoko looked like her world made more sense, and Rin came to a stop.  Surprisingly, however, she didn't really look intimidated.  She was studying them curiously, and as she came to Savina, she caught sight of Savina's holy symbol and brightened.  "So it's true!" she said.  "An Alirrian Inquisitor!  The girls downstairs were talking, but then again last week they were in a frenzy because they'd heard Kawazu-san got drunk, imagine that!  Drunk with the common soldiers, brawling in the yard, not a word of it true.  But you're an Alirrian?"

"I am," said Savina.  Kormick sensed that she was about to start talking about flowers and praying again.  He hadn't really minded when she'd done it earlier—in fact, for some reason, it had reminded him unexpectedly of his sister—but he didn't want to take the time now.  He cut in.

"We need to know how Lady Nishi's father's library got here from his estate after he died," he said.

"I packed it all up," said Rin.  "Let me see.  Suzu and Yuki helped me—or was it Emi?  It was Emi, yes, because Suzu's boy was sick that night and—"

"But you were in charge," interrupted Kormick.  

"Of course," she said.

"And do you remember packing one book in particular?  _The Lady's Ways_?"

"That's the one that's causing all the trouble?  I've thought about that, and I can't say that I _do_ remember it.  But I can't say that I would have remembered it, either.  We were all half out of our minds, it was such a sad time.  My Lady's father was a good man."

"Did he practice this rite?"

Rin laughed, shaking her head.  "No, no," she said.  "We'd never heard of it then, you see.  Anyway he couldn't have done it—back before the Affirmation, you know, it wasn't safe for anyone to know that the family was Alirrian, and if he'd done _that_, well, people would have known.  Such pretty books he made, too, you know, but he never showed them off.  He couldn't.  The Inquisition would have—" She caught herself, looking scared and apologetic.  

"We understand," said Mena.  "You're saying Lady Nishi grew up in an atmosphere of fear and secrecy until the Affirmation arrived."

"It didn't stop there," Rin said, shaking her head. "Her father never changed.  He thought the Affirmation was a trick to flush out the heretics so they could all be killed at once.  He nearly disowned Lady Nishi when she told everyone she was Alirrian.  She made it a condition of her marriage, you know.  Lord Nishi had to convert."

"She was very brave to take that stand," said Mena.  "Did she share her father's artistic abilities?"

"Well, I always thought she had a good eye, and I told her so many a time, but no, she wasn't interested."

"And how do you think she feels about this rite?" continued Mena.  Rin was proving to be a very useful source for verifying Lady Nishi's honesty, and Kormick found her convincing.  He was ready to cross both Lady Nishi and Rin off his list of suspects. Infuriatingly, he wasn't sure that there was anyone else _on_ his list of suspects.  Yet.

Rin glanced at the door as if to make sure it was shut.  "Between you and me," she said, "it's a terrible strain on the marriage.  And the marriage wasn't perfect to begin with.  Lord Nishi—" she lowered her voice—"is not the brightest star in the sky, if you know what I mean."

"Indeed, he is not the sharpest crane… crane's bill… in the flock," agreed Kormick, stumbling with relief into a decent metaphor after an inauspicious start.  Rin nodded in satisfaction.  

"I have one more question," said Savina.  "If Lady Nishi had never heard of the rite, and you hadn't—then who told Lord Nishi about it?"

Rin blinked.  "Ponoko-san," she said.  "It must have been."

"And that is?"

"Our priestess," said Rin.  "She doesn't just lead our services, of course.  She advises Lord Nishi about the ways of Alirria."

_Aaand…we have a new suspect,_ thought Kormick.  He turned to Savina.  "You're _still_ dangerously naïve," he told her. "Don't forget that.  But that was a nicely pertinent question to ask." 

"Not that an Alirrian priestess would be behind such a terrible crime, of course," said Savina with dangerous naïveté.  "Still, we should probably talk to her." 

"Yes," agreed Kormick, sharing a dark glance with Mena.  "We probably should."


----------



## Ilex

*15x05*

Arden's role in all these conversations was to stand by the door, pretending that she wasn't listening, that she was only there in case her mistress developed a sudden need for a glass of water.  Mena knew she was pretending.  Twiggy surely guessed.  Kormick probably assumed.  Of course, she _was_ listening, enjoying the chance to sift through words and inflections for the clues that mattered.

She did wish that she could ask a question or two, but, as usual, the gentlefolk were decent, competent people, and they asked every question she could think of.  It was infuriating, in a way.  If she could despise them, things would be simpler.

As Lady Ponoko greeted them in her small chamber, hung with green and blue, Arden took up her station by the door, fixed a neutral, cool stare on the woman, and began to observe.  Lord Nishi's Alirrian priestess-in-residence was, appropriately, a motherly woman, middle-aged and pleasant-looking.  She seemed alert and solemn—aware of the seriousness of her position, being the advisor of an accused heretic—but not nervous.  

"You have questions for me?" she said.

"Yes, Honored Mother," said Savina. "We need to know—well—let's begin with this.  When did you become the priestess here?"

"I became the priestess shortly after Lord Nishi's wedding, after Father Disuku had difficulties with the transition to Alirrian worship.  Before that, I trained at the Temple in Lord's Edge, may it be rebuilt."

Arden felt a chill.  _"May it be rebuilt."  Please Gods… tell me Kormick's jokes weren't prophetic…_

"…Rebuilt?" whispered Savina.  Except Nyoko, they had all frozen.  "What… what happened?"

"It was attacked and burned earlier this spring.  None my sisters survived."

Arden closed her eyes against the shock.  The room was silent.  Inside herself, Arden fought a losing battle with a new obligation settling onto her shoulders:  _This wasn't our fault.  It's not our crime.  It is, instead, almost certainly the Tide's crime… but if we'd been there, we could have helped to stop it._ 

She opened her eyes.  The others looked as miserable and furious as she felt.  Savina was pressing her hand to her mouth, and a tear streaked down her cheek.  

Kormick put his hand on the girl's shoulder.  "We will see it rebuilt," he said gruffly.  "_I_ will see it rebuilt.  I promise this, no matter how many years it may be before I can get back there."  Savina reached up to squeeze Kormick's hand.

"I see," said Ponoko, "that my news affects you.  Did you know of the Temple in Lord's Edge?"  

Savina told Ponoko about meeting the Honored Mother there.  It occurred to Arden that the Honored Mother, alone of the Alirrians of Lord's Edge, had arguably met a just fate—the once-intolerant killer had now become a victim of intolerant killers.  Arden suppressed a shiver:  _Justice is cold_.  She looked down at the floor and prayed that the sorrowful and repentant Honored Mother would find happiness at last in the afterlife, his debt now truly, fully paid.  And she prayed that Kettenek's justice would fall as coldly upon the murderers of all the Honored Mother's innocent sisters as it had upon the Honored Mother himself.

_And presuming the Tide are behind it_, she decided, _then that entire organization must be punished.  Somehow._  She locked eyes with Mena, silently communicating:  _It's no longer enough to arrest only the criminal who caused this heresy in this district.  The deaths of the Alirrians of Lord's Edge must be answered, too._  She thought that she and Mena knew each other well enough now that they could guess how each other felt.  In fact, she suspected that they had all, silently, just signed the Tide's death warrant in that room.  Her companions were, after all, decent, competent people.  They would do what needed to be done.  

_…although I have no idea *how*_….

The others were also silent until Nyoko gently reminded them that there was a criminal investigation to be concluded:  she bowed her head and said, "With greatest respect for the dead, Ponoko-san, the Inquisition here must continue."

"Of course," said Ponoko.

"Right," sighed Kormick.  "How did you learn about this infamous rite?"

"Well, of course, it came to light when we acquired Lady Nishi's father's library."

"Yes, yes, we know that much.  But _how_ did it come to light?  You were browsing among the books one afternoon, stumbled across it, and thought to yourself 'Yes, this seems perfectly reasonable and Alirrian to me?'"

"More or less, yes.  After the Seneschal called my attention to _The Lady's Ways_, I read it very closely and—"

"Wait," said Kormick.

_That's it_, Arden agreed silently, her instincts in agreement with Kormick.  Everyone seemed alert.  

"Yes, Inquisitor-san?"

"Seneschal Kawazu showed this book to you."

"Of course.  Among other duties he _is_ the keeper of the library…"

"We noticed.  How very easy it would have been for him to add a book to the collection and call your attention to it," said Kormick.  "We need to search his chambers immediately and without warning." 

Kormick stood up and made for the door.  The others followed with equal conviction.  Arden barely had time to pull it open.  Only two of them said farewell to the priestess:  Nyoko offered a quick formal bow, and Savina tossed a heartfelt, if hurried, "Thank you, Honored Mother!" over her shoulder.

In the hallway, they waylaid a soldier, who called his boss, and minutes later Yutaka, the captain of the guard, hurried up with a ring of keys.  Kormick told him that they needed to search Kawazu's chambers at once, and Yutaka's eyes widened.  

"Are you sure, Inquisitor-san?" he asked.

"Was there an iota of doubt in my voice when I said that?" replied Kormick.  

Yutaka led the way to the Seneschal's small suite of rooms, unlocked the door, and stood aside.  "Thank you, Yutaka-san," said Tavi.  "While we handle this, locate Kawazu and have your men detain him."  Yutaka bowed and strode away down the hall.

Kormick stood in the doorway of Kawazu's chambers and cracked his knuckles with disconcerting relish, a grin on his face.   "Hoo-kay," he said.  "Let's toss the joint."

They fanned out into the room, dragging out drawers and pulling aside wall hangings.  Savina, of all people, found the lockbox under a loose floorboard.  She tugged it out and set it on the mattress.  

"There isn't a key with this," she said.  "Has anyone found a key?"

"Oh my gods you're still adorable," said Kormick.

Arden suppressed a smile and didn't offer to pick the lock.  She _really_ didn't want to demonstrate that particular skill in front of her mistress and the Justicar, let alone everyone else.  Plus, she didn't think it would prove necessary… since Kormick was already unslinging a warhammer…

He bashed the box open with a single stroke.  Out fell gold, gems, and a black robe with a strange insignia on its breast.  

"Please tell me that this symbol means 'Hello, I am a proud member of the Tide, an extremely evil organization,'" said Kormick, holding it up for Nyoko to see.  

She frowned at it briefly.  "At the center is a very old-fashioned symbol for Kettenek in his role as the Sea-Master," she said.  "Circling it is a wayfarer's sign for a clear path.  If we recall that the Tide's full name is The Restless Tide of the One True Path, then—"

"—then it says, "Hello, I am a proud member of the Tide," finished Tavi.

"I cannot Witness to _exactly_ that," hedged Nyoko.  Then she flashed a satisfied smile.  "But speaking as a private citizen, I think you should arrest Kawazu at once."

Footsteps pounded in the corridor and Yutaka skidded into the doorway, breathing hard.  "Honored Inquisitors," he said, "come with me, quickly.  We've found him, but we have a problem."

They raced after him down the corridor, and then down two flights of stairs, into a dank cellar.  Yutaka led them to a storeroom and stepped aside so they could see what lay within:  a pair of feet stuck out from behind a crate.  

"Is he all right?" asked Savina, hurrying into the room.  They followed her, anxious to see if someone had already killed Kawazu and thus done their work for them.

But body wasn't Kawazu's.  It was a soldier they'd never seen before, and he didn't even look injured.  Before they could do anything else, four other soldiers sprang from the shadows, weapons gleaming.  Arden and Mena, at the back of the group, wheeled to find Yutaka standing grim-faced in the doorway, his battle-scarred katana at the ready.  

It was an ambush.


----------



## steeldragons

Niiice. Great update.

This is really good stuff. To be honest, I wasn't sure I would like it in the beginning...for a few reasons. And I hadn't read the previous campaigns (with Rose's mother). But you guys do a great job with the characters, their interactions and details of the cultures.

This is really a very entertaining read. 

Thanks for the adventure.
--Steel Dragons


----------



## Seonaid

Oh noes! Cliffhanger!


----------



## Ilex

Thank you all so much for the lovely comments!! So fun, and much appreciated, especially at the end of a very tiring week.

A special thank-you also goes to spyscribe, who took notes at Session 15 because ellinor and I both happened to be out of town for different reasons when this was played.  spyscribe is... shall we say an _expert_... at taking notes for story hours and other story-related enterprises, so I had fantastic, detailed material to work from and, at this point, have practically forgotten that I wasn't actually there.

Happy Halloween to all!


----------



## ellinor

*on a side note*

Happy birthdays to spyscribe, jenber, and thatch, all of whom have birthdays on or around now!  It's a pleasure to make stories with you.


----------



## Jenber

Thanks, ellinor!  You're the best.


----------



## ellinor

*16x01*

Wind whistled through the cracks of the storage cellar as, for the briefest moment of silence, Tavi took stock of the situation.  Guards continued to pile into the room, and in seconds, the party was surrounded by nearly a dozen armed men.  The guard captain, Yutaka, stood among the boxes and crates with a smug, self-satisfied glare. 

But there was no more time to think, as one of the guards raised his katana and charged toward Rose.  Rose shrieked in shock and fear.  Without hesitation, Tavi ignited the green flame of his sword and closed the distance to Rose’s attacker, slicing the attacker’s shoulder before he could even turn. “What are you doing?”  Tavi yelled.  “We are here to help your Lord!”

“He is not worthy of that title!”  Yutaka snarled.  “Get the heathens!  For Kettenek’s Truth!”

And suddenly, Tavi wasn’t just surrounded and protecting Rose, he was fighting for his life against a crowd of Tide zealots.  The guards rushed in, and Rose teleported to a corner behind crates, where she would be safe from the fighting.  But that left Tavi in the middle. One of the guards’ katanas connected with Tavi’s arm.  It seared in pain.  He could hear cries from Savina and Mena, too, although he couldn’t see them. 

But wherever they were, he knew they were fighting back.  Tavi saw one of the guards clutch his neck, blood seeping through his fingers…and then saw Arden wiping her blade behind him.  Kormick strode through the crowd, swinging his warhammers, bashing a path through the guards, leaving them bruised and weakened, clutching their guts and knees.  “Now you’ve made us cranky,” Mena announced, as she cut a swath through the crowd.  One of Nyoko’s arrows whizzed past Tavi’s head and struck one of the guards.  Then—suddenly—Twiggy teleported into the crowd of guards, and erupted in flame.  Several of the guards screamed as their tunics caught fire.  The guard in front of Tavi flailed, burned, and fell backward, and an _abyssal maw_ opened up in the ground, swallowing the guard whole.  Other guards backed away from the maw and its churning, gnashing spikes. 

_That cleared the room a bit, _ Tavi thought.   But as he glanced looked more closely, Twiggy wasn’t in such good shape.  She was fighting hard—her _force orb_ pushed two more men into the maw—but she was paying the price.  Her robes were torn, blood streamed from one shoulder, and her other arm hung limp by her side.

“Die, Alirrian scum!”  Tavi couldn’t see who yelled it, but he could see the guards converge on Savina, swords in motion.  In a flash, the girl was engulfed by guards, some of whom were still burning from Twiggy’s spell. 

Savina’s retort rang out with divine power.  “Alirria!  Defend us!”  Instantly, Tavi felt stronger.  _Now, if I can just get myself within sword’s range of Yutaka,_ he thought.  Yutaka was on the other side of the room, bearing down on Mena.  Blood had soaked her sleeve and she was limping.  Tavi saw his opening.  He slammed his sword through the air beside him, cutting through the air and _dimension warping_ into Mena’s spot.  As he appeared beside Yutaka, a burst of flame spewed from his sword and right into Yutaka’s gut.   The man’s robes caught on fire.

Yutaka was hurt, but still dangerous.   He wheeled around, bringing the full force of his sword down onto Arden behind him.  It opened a gaping wound across her front and seemed, somehow, to renew Yutaka.  Arden stumbled backward and caught her balance on a storage crate, grunting in pain.  _That’s too many of us hurt,_ Tavi thought, _and too many of them still fighting._ 

Tavi kept Yutaka’s attention as Arden scrambled up the crate by her side and, with a wince, hopped to the next one, right behind Yutaka.  She jumped forward off the box and stabbed, deeply, into Yutaka’s kidneys.  He was pinned, still.  Nyoko leapt up onto a storage crate and shot two arrows into Yutaka’s smoldering form. He slumped off of Arden’s dagger and hit the floor.  Dead.

The remaining guards swarmed, for a moment, disoriented without their leader.  “Your man is dead,” said Mena.  “It’s time to walk away.”

“We don’t fight for him,” hissed one of the guards.  “We fight for Kettenek.”

Mena stepped forward and kicked him, twice.  Savina whacked him on the head with her staff. 

“You fight for a perversion, and you are wrong,” Savina said.  “If you think that this is Kettenek’s way, you will learn:  Alirria takes care of her own.” A faint shimmer spread from her staff.  Tavi felt stronger.  The guards looked weaker.  _Consecrated ground,_ Tavi knew.  And Savina was right:  A few more arrows from Nyoko, stabs from Arden, blows from Kormick, and suddenly, there were only three guards remaining, injured but alive. 

Twiggy stood over one, her foot on his chest.  “This one’s unconscious, but alive.  We can question him.”  Tavi nodded in assent. 

“Honored Inquisitor,” said Nyoko, addressing herself to Tavi as she lifted her bow and drew back her hand, “do you require any more of these heretical vermin to be alive for questioning?”

Tavi felt the cuts on his body and looked at his friends, their clothes torn and bloodied.  “No.”

Two arrows flew from Nyoko’s bow at the same time.  And at the same time, the last two guards were dead.

###

Savina tended to everyone’s wounds, and then turned to Yutaka's dead form.  She made a sign of Alirria over his body, but it was hard to feel compassion for him.  _Heretic.  Betrayer of Alirria._  His pockets held nothing but a Kettenite holy symbol.  _Betrayer of Kettenek, as well,_ she thought.

“Looks like we’ll need to get our evidence the old-fashioned way,” Kormick smiled, and slapped awake the last living guard.  

Mena fixed the guard in her stare.  “You’re a loyal soldier,” she began, “but you’ve failed.  We need to know who else fights on your side.”

As the guard looked down, his failure was written on his face, but it was mixed with defiance.  “I am Azuma.  I fight for Kettenek.”

“We are willing to do whatever it takes to find your allies,” Mena continued.

“I am Azuma.  I fight for Kettenek.”

Twiggy glared at the guard.  “And as Inquisitors, we act as Kettenek’s authorities.  If you truly wish to serve him, you will answer our questions.”

“Plus, we dropped you once,” said Tavi. “We won’t hesitate to make it final.”  Arden twirled her dagger ominously.

The guard’s eyes narrowed.  “If I am to die,” he replied, “then kill me.”

Savina was shocked by the realization:  _this man *wants* death.  But how do you scare someone who wants to die?_.  

“Not so fast,” she said, and steeled herself.  “How’s that kneecap?” She bent down to evaluate the guard’s injured knee, without the usual gentleness in her healer’s touch.  The guard bit back a moan of pain.  “Or that ankle?”  He pulled his foot back and winced.  “We can heal your internal bleeding, you know, and you can live life as a cripple.”

“I fight for Kettenek.  I deserve an honorable death.”

“You think so?”  Savina said, poking again at his ankle.  “I’m Alirrian. You were defiling my faith.  Why should I care for yours?”  The man’s face contorted.

He looked up at Savina.  “If I tell you what you want to know, can you promise me an honorable death?”

Savina paused for a moment.  “Yes.”  He was not a good man, she thought, but getting his information would serve Alirria, and punishing him would only serve vengeance.  She stood up, and met Kormick’s eyes with defiance, although she wasn’t sure whether she was embarrassed by her threat or by her mercy.


“So Witnessed,” added Nyoko.

From there, the guard’s information flooded out.  Kawazu, the seneschal, was a member of the Tide.  The Tide had forged the heretical ritual and incorporated it into the fake book, _The Lady’s Ways_.  Kawazu had brought the book to the Nishi estate when he was hired to become the new couple’s seneschal, hid it among the couple’s collection, and brought it to Nishi’s attention.  The goal was to utterly disgrace Nishi—the most politically powerful open Alirrian in the Sovereignty—and to incite open revolt, either from the peasants or from Nishi’s vassals.  Worship of Alirria would be reviled, and Nishi and his wife (“the infidels”) would be lynched and drowned, in the tradition for Alirrian heretics.  Kawazu had recruited the guard captain Yutaka, and his guards.  It was, the guard spat, “easy.”   

It was, Savina thought, disgusting.  She marveled at how close the plan came to working. 

They bound the guard then, and dragged him, together with the burned and broken body of Yutaka, through the estate, to Lord Nishi’s audience hall.  

###

“What is the meaning of this?”  Lord Nishi asked, a look of horror on his face as he stared down at the bloody body of Yutaka on his rug and the fettered guard at Mena’s feet.  Mena couldn’t tell whether Nishi was more upset about the rug or the men.  _Not a heretic,_ she thought, _but I *still* don’t like him._

Nyoko turned to the guard.  “Speak.”

“Don’t forget the part about the drowning,” added Mena, and her armor whispered in dark agreement.

As the guard recounted Kawazu’s plot, a succession of emotions passed over Nishi’s face.  Shock; horror; disgust; disbelief.  Mostly, he did a lot of blinking.  At the end, he fell backward into his chair, confused and horrified.

Tavi stepped forward.  “The Inquisition will not permit this heretical ritual to continue.”

Nishi looked…relieved.  “Yes, Inquisitor-san.  And the book shall be destroyed.”

“Reparations shall be made to all who were subjected to the ritual,” Savina added.   

“Yes, reparations.”  Nishi still looked shell-shocked, and Mena couldn’t be sure whether he actually knew what “reparations” meant.  

“Everyone shall be compensated for what they lost as a result of this false ritual," Mena clarified.

“Tell him to include the serfs, Mena,” murmured Arden from behind her.  Mena thought of the man they’d met on the road, and sighed as she realized that Arden was most likely correct in assuming that Nishi, like so many of his comfortable rank, wouldn't think beyond the nobility harmed by the ritual.  _Poor, foolish, narrow man._  She spoke again to Nishi: “Including the serfs.  There was one whose daughter was killed, although her wedding was canceled.”

“I hadn’t thought…”  Nishi searched for words.  “I am sure something can be done…”

“Our lady cares for all,” Savina reminded him.

“We shall send a message to Lady Oroko, telling her she can kill the Tidesmen who are now on their way to her home,” Tavi said

“Which leaves Kawazu,” said Kormick.  “Where is he?”

One of the servants stepped forward from the back of the room.  “Gone, Inquisitor-san.  I saw him leaving on his horse, hours ago.”

“Where would he go?”

“His only family is in Cauldron,” said Lord Nishi.  “His aunt is Lady Kawazu Noriko, the Mother Superior of Cauldron.”

At that news, Nyoko suddenly looked grim.  Mena shot her an inquisitive look, dreading bad news.

“The Mother Superior is the head of the Ring of Priesthood,” Nyoko clarified.  “They are up the Circle from the Inquisition.  They have the power to order the Inquisition to order or abort any inquest they wish.  If Kawazu reaches the Priesthood before we can catch him, he can request sanctuary from his Aunt, and the Inquisition will not be able to touch him.”

Yes, bad news.  Very complicated, very political, very *Sovereign* bad news. 

“Then we must go now, Lord Nishi-san,” said Savina.  “May our Lady be forever by your side.”  Nishi looked almost dizzy, as if his world had been turned upside-down.  Perhaps it had been.

Outside, Savina looked away as they beheaded the guard.  _An honorable death,_ Mena thought, _for a dishonorable man.  And Kawazu will see even less justice if we don't catch him before he reaches the city limits.  We will have to move as if Sedellus’ wind itself were at our backs._

They rode hard toward Cauldron.


----------



## spyscribe

Awesome update, and thanks for the birthday wishes!


----------



## ellinor

*16x02*

Twiggy had imagined how this would go—they’d stop the heresy and return to the High Pass estate, where they’d get to see Lady Oroko Cho and her husband-to-be happily wed; they’d celebrate and rest; they’d experience the gratitude of the Estate . . .

But those things were not to be.  Kawazu had a significant head-start to Cauldron, and knew the roads.  He could not be allowed to reach the Priesthood in Cauldron.  If he did, he’d be outside the reach of the law, and the Tide—who had not only perpetrated the heresy in High Pass, but had also burned the Alirrian Temple in Lord’s Edge—would score a victory.  The party had no choice but to catch him before he reached the gates of Cauldron.  Lady Cho was well-guarded by a capable force; they’d have to assume that she could protect herself.  

They pressed on.

The road crisscrossed the terraced hills—following the easiest path, but not the most direct one.  As she rode, Twiggy watched the edges of the path glide by.  She was tired, and the grassy patterns were mesmerizing, unvarying . . . until they weren’t.  There:  a small path of disturbed grass trailed away from the road.  It had been trodden recently, and as Twiggy followed it with her eyes, she could see that it cut across the fields and over a hill.  Twiggy pictured the road ahead in her mind, recalling the path by which they’d come from Cauldron—“A shortcut!” she realized, calling it out to the group.  From the disturbed grass, Twiggy suspected Kawazu had taken it; but if he hadn’t, perhaps they’d gain some time.  At least, she thought, they wouldn’t lose any.

The path was rougher going than the road, but the group pushed their horses hard.  As they crested the hill, horses panting, Twiggy recognized the road below.  Just ahead, past a small stand of trees, was the spot where they had met the peasant, Hideki, whose daughter was executed for defying the Tide’s heretical ritual.  Perhaps they’d meet Hideki again, Twiggy thought, so they’d be able to tell him that they’d succeeded—that no others would be subjected to the ritual, and that he’d be receiving reparations.  _It won’t bring his daughter back,_ Twiggy thought, _but it’s something…_

_And there, standing on the road, is a man who looks like Hideki,_ she noted, with pleasure.  Then they passed the trees, and the rest of the roadway stretched out below them.  Twiggy’s mind struggled to absorb what she saw there.  _Hideki, and a hundred other peasants.  Wait, what are they holding?  Pitchforks?  Sharpened branches?  Is that… are they…_

“Hey, look,” Kormick said.  “An angry mob.”

Indeed, it was an angry mob.  Led by Hideki.  

Before approaching, the party huddled to map out a strategy.  The only way forward was through the crowd, which was blocking the road.  The terrain wouldn’t allow them around—and even if they tried, the mob would follow.  But they had no wish to hurt the peasants.  Perhaps the peasants just didn’t understand that the matter had been resolved in their favor?

The party approached the mob.  “Hideki—”  Tavi yelled, but before he could finish, Hideki shouted, “these are the ones! They allowed this to happen!”

And a hundred angry peasants roared out in unison.  

“But we didn’t allow—“ Savina began, but Tavi interrupted her with a terse “I know!”  He concentrated for a moment, and rose off the ground.  When he was above the surging mob, he yelled louder than Twiggy had ever heard him yell.  “We have stopped the heresy and are pursuing the culprit!  Let us through!”

For a moment, some of the peasants near Tavi seemed to waver.  Nyoko assumed the confident air of an Adept—the air that every Adept could wear as a benefit of station—and stared down at them.  She nudged her horse forward, and rode into the mob. 

 “For our daughters!”  Hideki shouted.  

And with that, the crowd surged forward.  With screaming intensity, the peasants dragged Nyoko from her horse, threw her to the ground, and began kicking her.  It was frightening.

Arden rose in her stirrups.  “In Kettenek’s name, this is madness!  Hideki, the Tide has stopped!  We are on your side!”  It was as if she could read Twiggy’s mind.

 “Liar!”  Hideki yelled.  Then he egged on the crowd with his hoe.  “Get them!”

_But we *helped* them!_  Twiggy repeated to herself over and over. _Why are they doing this?_.

These people choose to spend all day in the fields, covered in dirt, Acorn observed.  And you expect them to make sense?

_Yes!_ Twiggy thought back.  _Unless, of course, someone else is making them act like—_  She quickly studied the crowd again with this new insight in mind, looking for the telltale signs of magical manipulation.  

She found it.  Everywhere.  Especially on Hideki.

“Wait!,” she called out to the others.  “The crowd has been angered by magic.  We won’t be able to change their minds!”  

“So we fight our way through,” Tavi replied, his tone resigned.

“But we don’t hurt them,” Savina insisted.  “They’ve been through too much already.”

Mena drove her horse forward toward the crowd engulfing Nyoko.  “Take your hands off her!”  Mena’s armor whispered and screamed an echo of her words, and the peasants recoiled away, forming a path to Nyoko.  Nyoko rolled and somersaulted, grabbed Mena’s horse, and pulled herself up.  Arden reared her horse back, frightening some of the nearby peasants, but others grabbed the hem of her tunic and pulled her to the ground.  She scrambled, but was unable to reach her horse’s reins.

“Get out of our way!”  Savina commanded, her voice ringing with divine power.  The peasants before her parted—a few of them ran toward the hills—and Mena and Savina surged forward into the crowd.  “Arden!  Here!”  Savina reached down and grabbed Arden’s arm and pulled her up.  The slave was badly bruised, almost limp; Twiggy thought Savina must have reached her just in time.  Kormick followed behind, twirling his warhammers.  For the most part, the peasants backed away from the Justicar, but they closed in behind him, surrounding the three horses on all sides.  

Twiggy concentrated and cast, sending the image of a massive fire into—she hoped—the minds of all the peasants.  They backed away, frightened, clearing a path through the crowd.  Tavi held out his hand to his sister.  “Rose, with me.”  He brandished his green flame blade, and they rode their horses into the gap.  Twiggy followed, but the spell had required too much concentration.  She couldn’t ride and cast at the same time.  As the others rode by, the peasants rushed forward and pulled her down onto the wet road.  They began kicking, tearing at her dress, pushing her into the mud…  The mud caked on her glasses and pressed into her eyes.  It was impossible to see—it was barely possible to breathe.  Every time she wiped her eyes, there was another dirty foot, pushing her head down.  

Twiggy looked up again.  Everyone else had made it to the other side.  She was stuck, her horse yards away, surrounded.  The world began to fade.  Twiggy’s face sank into the mud…

And Tavi’s sword suddenly thunked, point first, into the mud beside her and burst into flame.  

The peasants panicked, scrambling away from this new terror, again opening a path through the crowd.  

“Twiggy!” Rose called out, and she whistled a sharp, shrill note …

And Twiggy’s horse galloped into the gap, charging toward the party.  Without thinking, Twiggy reached up, grabbed desperately for something, anything…  

She caught a stirrup.

Pain seared through her wrist, and her arm felt like it was being wrenched out of her shoulder.  She was dragged along the muddy road, slamming into the ground again and again.  The breath was knocked from her lungs.  Her head slammed against a rock. 

Chelesta! Chelesta!  Stay awake, Chelest—  Acorn screamed in her head.  And that was the last thing Twiggy heard.


----------



## StevenAC

Ouch, poor Twiggy.  Some days it's just not worth getting out of bed... 

On a happier note, Chapters 14 and 15 are now available at the Collected Story Hour site...


----------



## ellinor

Thanks, StevenAC!

Stay tuned...


----------



## DaveBeth

*Wow*

Just thought I'd drop in and say wow! This story, in combination with some other readings, has really reignited my enjoyment of fantasy fiction. It manages to be an exciting world with interesting characters without smashing my head in with too many details or a slow moving story line. It also gives some realism without being too dark.

So thanks for rocking, I had forgotten my love of fantasy fiction!


----------



## ellinor

Thanks so much, DaveBeth!  It's so gratifying to hear that people are enjoying our story -- we are sure enjoying the process of playing and writing!


----------



## ellinor

*17x01*

-lesta! Chelesta! Chelesta! Chelesta!

Twiggy felt the tingle of a late-spring breeze on her face as the world oozed back into her consciousness.  The sun was hot, but her skin cool.  The ground rocked and wobbled below her.  Blood rushed in her ears.  Acorn’s panicked voice rang in her head.  She opened her eyes, slowly.  It was brown outside, brown and mottled.  “Mrrrph,” she said, quietly.  Her mouth felt furry.

She tried to move, to feel where she was.  The rocking and wobbling were more pronounced, now, rhythmic.  She wiped her glasses.  It was still brown.  Ah.  She was on a horse, slumped forward, lashed in safely.  They were moving.  She turned her head.  Grass and trees passed by.  _Moving quite quickly,_ she thought, _considering that I’m lashed to a horse._

Twiggy found her balance, grasped the lashing with her hands, pulled it over her head, and began to sit up.  Her body felt surprisingly sturdy where it should have felt tender and sore.  Savina’s healing touch was remarkable.  And Twiggy was getting stronger.  Things that would have killed her weeks ago now . . . merely almost-killed her.  Small progress, but progress.

“You’re back,” said Kormick with a smile, as Twiggy began to rise.  “Rested?  Good dreams of strapping lads carrying ancient texts or whatnot?”  

Twiggy managed a weak smile.  If only she _had_ been asleep, she thought.  That dream sounded awfully good right now.  “How long—”

“A while.  An hour, maybe.”  Kormick offered her a skin of water.  “Got it from the way-station, back there a bit.  Rested up a bit, grabbed a bite of food—” he handed her a ball of rice wrapped in paper, “—switched horses, and got back on our way.  Kawazu apparently did the same, a few hours ahead of us.”

Twiggy recognized a few landmarks—stands of trees, peasant homes.  “It looks like I didn’t slow us down too much.”

“Tavi’s horse found a shortcut through a stream,” Rose laughed, pointing at the wet hems of her brother’s robe, “but we followed, and it turned out to be a real shortcut.  So we may have caught up with Kawazu a little bit.  We’ll see.  So far, so good.”

From the front of the pack, Mena looked back at them with pride.  “As I’ve been saying all along, you have trained for this.”

###

It wasn’t that Tavi was getting tired of hearing that he’d trained for things.  He _had_ trained for them, although he hadn’t known exactly what he’d been training for at the time.  No, what bothered Tavi was how matter-of-fact everyone else seemed to be about the situation they were in.  Racing through the Ketkath on a mission to bring a heretic to justice, searching the trees for ambush points…he wondered why no one else commented on how strange it all was.  How different it was from what they’d expected.  It certainly wasn’t what _he’d_ expected when he dedicated himself to protecting Rose.  _Maybe I trained for this,_ he thought, _but I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it._

Tavi turned his attention to the road ahead.  The ground climbed sharply before them into a stand of trees covering the side of a tall hill, and a steep set of forested switchbacks lay in in their path.  Tavi urged his horse ahead with his heels.

Then something stung his shin.  Tavi looked down: an arrow was jutting out of his leg.  Two more hissed past his ear, and he heard Arden gasp in pain and Mena curse.  In a flash, Tavi decided it would be safer to rush straight up the hill, ignoring the switchbacks, than it would be to stay on the path and fight an unseen enemy.  He blamed himself for missing the ambushers--but they were well-hidden, barely visible even as he knew they were there.  A flash of insignia confirmed that their attackers were Tidesmen, but disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.  

Tavi knew the archers would be tough to hit in this forested environment; if he could reach the top of the hill, he'd pass the stand of trees that they were using for cover.  He knew that some of the others would stay on the switchbacks rather than risk losing their footing in the trees, and he could protect them better from the top of the hill.  And he was right about the others—as he steered his horse straight up and spurred his horse faster, Arden alone managed to keep pace with him.  Despite the blood on her shoulder where the arrow had struck, she was crouched in her stirrups and readying her dagger in her right hand as her horse lunged up over the rocky terrain.  The two of them barreled ahead.  

Tavi noticed—not for the first time—how deeply Arden devoted herself to their safety.  Another arrow took Arden straight through the left arm and he saw her struggle for a moment to keep hold of the reins.  Although it put her in harm’s way, she urged her horse faster and kept pace with Tavi.  An arrow glanced off Tavi's thigh.  Arden spotted where the arrow had come from, and and hurled her dagger, which vanished among the trees, caused a scream, and came flying back to her hand, bloody.  _Daring, and skilled,_ Tavi thought.  But then an arrow chased the rebound of Arden’s dagger.  It was too dangerous to pause and look back, but he heard Arden’s cry, and the sickening thud of her tumbling from her horse.  _Keep her safe,_ he thought, and it might have been a prayer.

As Arden fell back, Mena surged forward and caught up with Tavi.  Her presence strengthened him, and she shouted encouragement and advice to the others behind them.  “Stay low!  No straight lines!  Someone help Arden!”

Another arrow seared into Tavi's shoulder.  He closed his mind to the pain.  Then another, this one on the back of the arm.  It hurt—but it meant he was passing the first of the archers.  He and Mena crested the ridge and wheeled around, bearing down on the men who, from this side of the stand of trees, lacked cover.  Now he could see back on to the trail, where Kormick had pulled Arden’s limp form onto his horse and was firing into the forest with his crossbow.

As the others reached the top of the hill, the archers began to flee, many with Nyoko’s arrows sticking out of their sides.  Several of them looked healthier than Tavi would have preferred.  _If we let them regroup,_ he thought, _we may meet them again on the road ahead._  But the party couldn’t give chase.  Arden was unconscious and slumped over Kormick’s horse.  Everyone but Nyoko was hurt, to some degree.  The party needed to regroup just as much as their attackers did.

Suddenly, one of the ambushers—a zealot with a Tide insignia emblazoned on his armor—dropped his bow and charged at Tavi.  He tried to climb Tavi’s horse, grasping at the saddle and pulling at Tavi’s sword, still in its scabbard around Tavi’s waist.  

And at that moment—somehow—it felt normal.  Tavi gritted his teeth, pulled the arrow from his shoulder, and stabbed the man with it.  “I trained for this,” he said, so only he could hear.

###

When Arden came to, she was on Kormick’s horse.  He was holding her up.  “I don’t know what they taught you at murder academy, but daggers are more of a tool for the ambusher, not the ambush-ee.”  He chuckled.  “So next time we have to run into an ambush of archers,” he suggested, “perhaps you should let someone with arrows take the lead?”  He patted the hand-crossbows by his side.  

“I may take you up on that, Justicar,” Arden responded, and leaned forward into the horse’s mane.  

_Sharing a horse with a Justicar and joking about murder.  If I didn’t know better,_ Arden thought, _I’d say I was still unconscious._

They rode through the night.  By the time they reached the way station it was nearly dawn, and they were as exhausted as their horses were.  But Kawazu had passed through only an hour or two before, and there was no time to lose.  Arden had become accustomed to the fact that the way-station operators just handed fresh horses to the Inquisitors with much bowing and tight-lipped smiling, but—as much as she appreciated it—she wished it were not born of fear.  

With food in their packs and fresh horses beneath them, they rode on, into a forested portion of the road.  Arden was thankful for her muscle memory, which kept her in the saddle during the mesmeric ride.  Twiggy nearly fell off hers a few times.  Savina was flagging, too.  But Mena and Kormick rode ahead, chatting, scouting, occasionally falling back with encouragement and then riding up to join each other.  As the sun rose, it blended their shadows together.    

Mena held her hand up.  _Halt._

She pointed to a ridge ahead, and Arden’s eyes followed.  A prime spot for an ambush, Arden thought.  Mena signaled that the group should leave the road and enter the forest.  

It was the right move.  After a few minutes of careful riding, they approached the top of the ridge, and found a dozen archers, facing the road, looking down, unaware of the party’s presence behind them.

Arden loosened her dagger in its small scabbard.  _A tool for the ambusher,_ she thought.


----------



## Seonaid

W00t!


----------



## RedTonic

Whoa, I've lost track. Is Rose a PC or an NPC?


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Npc.


----------



## Ilex

Correct -- thanks, Cerebral Paladin!  Rose is an NPC, but one of those NPCs in whom we're all fairly deeply invested. 

Here's the original post on the party's line-up, if anyone's interested in further review.


----------



## ellinor

*17x02*

_It feels good to be the ambusher, for a change,_ Kormick mused, as the party crept silently toward the ridge.  _Familiar.  Like coming home._  He took the lay of the land:  they were on one side of a canyon, which flanked the road with steep rocky cliffs.  Between the party and the cliff stood thick forest—and seven soon-to-be-ex Tide archers, training their arrows toward the road below.  From the road, they would have been invisible; from here, they stood out, sitting ducks.  

At once, the group sprang into action.  Twiggy—although she looked like death warmed over—managed to work some sort of force spell that flipped one ambusher over the cliff toward the road below; Arden grabbed another one from behind, slit his throat, and kicked him off the edge; Savina pointed at one of the ambushers and commanded, with divine force in her voice, *“over.”*  The ambusher ran at top speed toward the edge and flung herself off with a strangled scream.  

Kormick had to admit it: the kids’ tactics were improving with every fight.  They were still naïve—sometimes dangerously so—but they’d come a long way since setting out.  Their instincts were more controlled, more automatic, more confident.  _One needs confidence to be appropriately murderous_, Kormick observed, with an unfamiliar flush of pride.  Kormick strode forward and hammered one before giving him a shove toward Mena, who pushed him off the cliff.  _Three to go._

But those three were not the only foes:  Arrows flew from invisible archers across the canyon—_makes sense,_ Kormick thought, _they’d have ambushers on both sides of the road_—and Nyoko returned fire.  The three remaining on this side were surprisingly tough, as well.  Kormick hit one with his warhammer—hard—and she vanished into thin air.  _What?_  But Kormick saw a rustling in the trees a few feet away, and a red-brown stain appear on their leaves.  _Oh.  They must have some kind of magical escape invisibility…but they didn’t plan to be leaving bloodstains.  Always plan for bloodstains,_ Kormick thought.

Arden slashed the neck of another one, and he vanished from sight as well…and Tavi chased the last one into invisibility with his green, flaming sword. Tavi stabbed the same spot again—and again—and blood streamed from the invisible foe onto the forest floor.  But blood suddenly bloomed on Tavi’s leg as well.  Tavi staggered, dropped to one knee, and then two arrows struck him in quick succession from the far side of the canyon.  He keeled over, unconscious.  

As the rustling moved past Tavi, Kormick swung low with his warhammer, and connected with a satisfying _thud._  A rain of blood sprayed Twiggy before the ambusher reappeared in a bloody mass beside her.  Twiggy didn’t flinch, although whether it was from confidence or exhaustion Kormick couldn’t guess.

The two remaining ambushers were visible again, and surrounding Tavi.  Savina ran into the fray and knelt to heal him just as a dagger from Arden whizzed past, striking one of the assailants.  He fell.  As Tavi gasped back into consciousness, the last attacker ran, and Savina charged after her, chanting a prayer for the Tideswoman’s worst nightmare:  an Alirrian lance of faith.   _There’s that feeling of pride again,_ Kormick noted, as the woman dropped dead.

Although the close-quarters fight was over, they all ducked as another arrow flew across the canyon and thunked into a tree.  “Here’s the thing about fighting people on the opposite side of a canyon,” Kormick observed to the group with a sly smile.  “They’re fighting us one at a time.  We can fight all of them at once.”  He grabbed his hunting knife, hacked the head from the body of one of the dead Tidesmen, and carried it to the edge of the ravine.  “In the name of the Inquisition,” he bellowed, “go home to your wives and children.”  He threw the head off the cliff.  

The ambushers on the other side of the road ran.

The party rode hard.

###

_Dawn,_ Savina thought.  _Alirria’s hour._ 

The sun rose over the mountains, silhouetting a single rider, hunched over his horse, whipping the animal for speed, riding toward Cauldron as if possessed.  The party rode, pounding, behind him—gaining, ever so little, gaining.

It was the first time in years that Savina had not sat quietly for dawn prayers.  Traveling, she had known, would mean that she would not always be in an Alirrian temple for dawn.  She had never dreamt that it might mean whispered praise to the Goddess panted out from the back of a running horse.  

They were gaining.  The man’s horse was flagging.  _That’s what he gets for mistreating the poor creature,_ Savina thought.  And as they rounded a corner, there was the horse, resting on the ground, spent.  

Kawazu was running down the road toward Cauldron, running for all he was worth.  

Kormick raised his hand-crossbow.  Nyoko raised her bow.  “Wait!”  Savina yelled.  “Don’t kill him!”

They didn’t loose their arrows; he was too far ahead.  And before they came into range, he stopped and turned to face them.  Savina was troubled to see that he looked defiant, not defeated.  He looked like he expected to stand against them.

Kawazu pulled a large crystal from his cloak.  “Kettenek will protect me!” he yelled, and streams of frost spewed from the crystal.  The road froze into a slick shine, and the frost grew on itself, until—in the blink of an eye—an enormous creature of ice blocked the road.  It was part ice, part crystal, part snow, and had patchy black eyes that seemed to extend forever across the barrier, into death. 

It roared.


----------



## Falkus

Well, that creature seems friendly.


----------



## Jenber

Falkus said:


> Well, that creature seems friendly.





Yes.  It clearly wishes merely to cuddle with our internal organs.


----------



## Seonaid

Jenber said:


> Yes.  It clearly wishes merely to cuddle with our internal organs.



Entirely reasonable.


----------



## ellinor

*17x03*

Savina struggled to calm her horse as it reared back from the ice monster.  The creature was the size of four men—or more—and as it roared and growled, its heavy breath coated the road with thick, reflective ice.  It would be hard to get close—but then again, Savina did not want to get close.  The monster was more than just menacing, more than just angry, more than just enormous—there was a sort of melancholy about it, a sort of depth.  Something powerful…

Kormick settled his horse and dismounted.  “Hey!  Where are they handing out giant frost creatures in exchange for service to Kettenek?” he asked, with what Savina knew was only _mostly_ bravado.

“You may not get one,” Mena replied, wryly, “but you get the pleasure of defeating one.”

Kawazu stepped out from behind the monster with a malevolent grin and held forth the crystal gem, which pulsated with white light.  “Kettenek shall smite the unrighteous!”  

_Don’t be so sure,_ Savina thought.  She pulled a holy symbol from her robe—the symbol of vengeance she had received from the spirits of the Sharpstone Monks—and held it before her.  “Alirria, bring your might!”  The holy symbol shimmered blue, and a blue lance of light sprang from it, piercing the icy monster.  At once, the others saw their opening to attack the monster’s master:  Arden threw her dagger, which sank deep into Kawazu’s gut.  Nyoko shot an arrow, which hit Kawazu's shoulder.  Tavi hurled his sword, which whirled through the air, licking with green flame, and knocked Kawazu on the head before returning to Tavi’s grasp.  Kawazu staggered and snarled, brandishing the glowing crystal and spouting Kettenite invective.  He had clearly begun the fight with more confidence than strength, and now—perforated and bruised—confidence was nearly all he had left.

The monster, however, was as strong as ever.  Kormick strode forward, steady on the ice, and pounded on the colossus with his warhammers.  His attack was brutal:  Kormick whirled, chopped…shards of ice flew from the creature’s legs and chest.  Yet it barely left a dent.  The thing lumbered forward and swung a great arc with its crystalline paw.  The sunlight glinting off its giant, sharp claws made Savina gasp as those claws connected with Tavi’s shoulder, slicing deep and pushing him off his horse.  The cold wind extinguished the flames on Tavi’s sword.  _The cold—_ Savina felt it deep inside, and she stumbled, fell from her horse, landed on the hard ice below.  Savina heard screams from Tavi, Mena, and Nyoko.  _This is no ordinary monster,_ Savina thought.  _If there is such a thing._

Only Twiggy remained on her horse.  She concentrated and cast, and a ball of fire appeared just in front of the monster.  The flames licked at the creature’s giant form, twining with its crystals.  Steam rose from its front, and its crystalline edges began to soften, reform, drip.  The ball hissed and spat as droplets hit.  

Behind Savina, Mena’s armor whispered, then screamed, and Mena urged the others forward:  “Jan!  Tavi!  Again!”  Kormick spun behind the monster and struck it.  Tavi winced and staggered, but rose from the road and hurled himself forward.  He swung his sword like a bat and clocked Kawazu with its broad side.  Kawazu fell, unconscious, the crystal gem still tight in his grasp, and still glowing.  Tavi and Mena walloped the crystal with their swords, but it absorbed the force.

Unbreakable.

_What *is* this thing?_  The snow beast wheeled around and, with a giant roar, a huge swath of the monster’s face _exploded,_ sending streaming shards of ice flying directly down at Tavi.  They lacerated Tavi’s clothes and face.  It was as if the monster had expelled the shards from its own form, leaving a misshapen mass in place of its face.  But its eyes remained, dark, deep…Savina prayed, and again, a lance of Alirria’s vengeance shot from her holy symbol.  Nyoko shot again, too, and her arrows pierced the monster.  One remained inside it, visible beneath the icy surface.  Another flew straight through, spraying chunks of snow and ice in all directions from the creature’s back.  Mena charged, stabbed; Kormick chipped, sculpted.  The beast batted at the fireball, which hovered before it, casting a ruddy glow on its crystalline form.  Then, as the creature was distracted, Arden crept behind it and unleashed the full force of her might.  In a flurry of frost and blade, she stabbed the creature's leg once, twice, burying her dagger in its icy mass and wrenching it out with such force that clumps of snow flew everywhere.  

[i[That[/i] got its attention.  Cold waves exploded forth from the monster.  It knocked Mena and Kormick to the ground, but Arden took the brunt of it.  She slid backward on the ice, her body bruised and bloody from a thousand icy cuts.  The monster knocked Tavi over and lumbered forward, uncaring.  Then it swung its mighty claws at Arden.  BAM.  Arden cried out.  Savina winced in sympathetic pain.  BAM.  Another.  Arden’s body slacked.  She was unconscious.  

“You don’t get to do that,” Mena announced, and clawed herself to her feet.  Her sword, and Nyoko’s arrows, struck in concert.  Chunks of ice flew from the monster’s sides.  And still, the fire ball remained, glowing and licking at the monster’s melting form.  Twiggy cast again, and a giant wave of force flew past the fire ball, blowing a hole in the monster’s torso.  

Savina saw her chance and ran to Arden’s side.  She prayed for healing.  Alirria’s warmth came, comforting, and Arden blinked awake.  “Will you be alright?”  Savina asked.  

Arden sat up.  “It has been a very long day, Blessed Daughter,” she replied, and looked behind Savina. 

“It’s looking at me, isn’t it,” Savina said.  It was.  She steeled herself and turned.  It was just a few feet away, swinging its claws. . . Savina held up the holy symbol, and stared into the creature’s cold, dark eyes.  _Try it,_ she thought, _try it and learn of Alirria’s wrath._  A boulder of ice flew at Savina, at the holy symbol.  When it hit, it melted.  Water dripped from Savina’s hand, and the monster held her gaze.  Suddenly, she knew.  They were not fighting a monster.  

They were fighting an angel of Kettenek.  

_Why…_

Arden, barely conscious but still fighting, stumbled forward toward the angel.  She and Tavi, Mena, and Kormick surrounded it, chipping away at its mass, beating.  It was no longer the shape of a person, as ice and snow fell from it in great chunks and sprays.  It was moving defensively, now, as Twiggy cast into its mind, and Kormick knocked its arm away in a giant block.  Tavi raised his green flame sword at the staggering beast, and brought it down on what once was a leg.  It crumpled, melting, crumbling, splashing, into . . . water.  The gem shattered.  

The last remnants of the angel hung in the air and fell slowly, in a soft snow.  Quiet, brief.

Kormick returned the warhammers to his belt and pushed gingerly at a bruise on his forearm.  “I’m sure it is an honor to Kettenek to banish such an abomination called in Kettenek’s name,” he declared, proudly.

_An honor,_  Savina thought, _to banish an angel.  Like a storybook hero._


----------



## coyote6

Fortunately, Kettenek's Justice demands that Kormick not really worry too much about minor metaphysical matters like that.


----------



## Rughat

I've forgotten - where do angels stand in this pantheon?  Do the various religions consider them messengers and servants of the gods?  If Kormick knew what he had done, how upset would he be?  (OK, how upset _should_ he be?)  Does sumonning/calling the angel have implications for what Kettenek thinks of Kawazu's actions?


----------



## ellinor

Thanks for the question, Rughat.  This is one of those questions for which different PCs might give different answers, so I'll ramble on about it for a moment.  As a matter of Halmae theology, angels are very different from gods.  Gods are incorporeal divinities.  As a result, angels are more like servants/agents/aspects of a concept than they are manifestations of a god.  They’re holy, in a way...but clerics are holy too, in the same way, and that wouldn't stop us from killing a cleric.  In the words of Fajitas, "A divine servant summoned by an enemy cleric is… well, it’s not really something to lose too much sleep over."  The upshot is that Kawazu's ability to summon an angel doesn't make him any holier -- but it sure made him a much more formidable, better-connected enemy than even we knew.

On the other hand, recall that the *last* angel these guys saw -- and for at least some (maybe all), the *only* one they've ever seen -- was the lady of the Spring, who uttered the prophecy and perished tragically as the Spring was despoiled in battle.  We're still wrestling with the emotional consequences of doing that.  So...the party isn't likely to worry much about the theological consequences of killing an angel -- but some of them are, no doubt, awed and maybe even conflicted about the concept of killing something so powerful.


----------



## Fajitas

Rughat said:


> I've forgotten - where do angels stand in this pantheon?  Do the various religions consider them messengers and servants of the gods?  If Kormick knew what he had done, how upset would he be?  (OK, how upset _should_ he be?)  Does sumonning/calling the angel have implications for what Kettenek thinks of Kawazu's actions?




Ellinor's explanation is a pretty good one.  Angels in the Halmae are basically creatures of divine origin.  They are considered to contain within them, to a greater or lesser extent, some part of some aspect of the divine--and remember that not all aspects of any given god in the Halmae get along.  

Angels are not direct servants or messengers; they do not deliver the one, true, knowable will of the gods.  Such a concept is meaningless in the Halmae.

Angels come in all shapes and sizes, and at all levels of power.  Any elemental creature has, to some extent, a touch of the divine in them.  In the broadest terms, even mephits are, technically, very minor angels.  The angel of Sedellus that Rose's mother ran into was a very powerful one.  The Spring, presumably, was also a very powerful Alirrian angel.  This guy wasn't nearly in their league.  He was just kind of a rampaging ice spirit.  Full of the power of Kettenek, to be sure, but not all that high on the totem pole... but then, summoning really powerful angels is both difficult and dangerous work.


----------



## Piratecat

Oh, by the way...


----------



## Ilex

*18x01*

The wind fluttering their clothes was more summer than spring, warm and humid, perhaps running ahead of a storm.  It made the mounds of snow and hunks of ice seem especially uncanny.  The remains of Kawazu's summoned angel were melting rapidly, and Kawazu himself lay motionless, unconscious.  Tavi kept a wary eye on their foe while Savina circled through the group, dispensing healing prayers.

Arden sat against a rock, so light-headed that she felt like she was melting, too.  She watched trickles of red trace steadily down her arm, pool around the cuff on her wrist, and drip onto a heap of snow beside her, her life's blood staining the whiteness.  She didn't think the slashes she'd suffered were her biggest problem – something in her knee was out of joint, and she'd been hit on the head, she was sure – by the monster – _the angel? An angel of Kettenek? An angel of law summoned by a lawbreaker… trying to kill *us*, of course, because nothing is simple with Kettenek, nothing is black and white with Kettenek—_ 

She broke off the mental blasphemy.  Divine justice was, of course, inscrutable, and mortal justice had to do its best.  Mortal justice said that if a criminal like Kawazu channeled Kettenek's power to attack them, then they got to fight back. _Maybe he enslaved Kettenek's angel to support his crimes… maybe we freed it.  Can an angel be enslaved?_  Her blood was still dripping onto the snow, and she was slipping into a dream, down a long, black tunnel where the snow monster tramped toward the caverns of the underworld... _Maybe we sent it home_... down...  and down... a cold white light at the end of the deep tunnel, growing brighter, the light flashing in the darkness on the angel’s icy limbs, brighter still... 

Savina was beside her, murmuring another prayer.  Suddenly solid again, her wounds whole, Arden thanked her mistress politely, stood up, and went to see about collecting the scattered horses.

By the time she came back with two stragglers, the group had decided to camp a hundred yards from the roadside.  It was only mid-afternoon, but they were exhausted, and they needed to decide what to do with their prisoner. "Do we have the authority to dispense justice here, on the road?" Tavi asked Nyoko.

"Of course," nodded Nyoko.  "You are deputized Inquisitors.  You were empowered to determine whether there was an Alirrian heresy in Hillside District.  Having discovered that there is, and that this man is guilty of it, you are also empowered to deal with it." 

"By 'deal with it,'" Tavi pressed, "you mean – "

"Deal with it, conclude the issue, in whatever way you see fit, Inquisitor-san," said Nyoko.  "I will point out that the penalty for heresy is, of course, death."  

Arden watched as a number of people – Tavi, Mena, Twiggy – cut their eyes toward the unconscious prisoner, clearly worried about what they might have to do.  Savina, surprisingly, did not.  "He – he _must_ die," she said.  "For the Alirrian heresy of aiding and abetting rape – the – the appropriate method is dehydration."

_And… that's my mistress_, thought Arden, underlining a mental note to never, _ever_ underestimate the Blessed Daughter, despite her apparent sympathy and mercy.

"We must make sure that the Twilight Lady doesn't rule our decisions through vengeance," said Mena.

"It is not vengeance," said Savina.  "It's the law.  He – he must die."  She looked around at the group with wide, sincere eyes.

"You're being disconcerting again," Kormick told her.  "I’d feel better about what you just said if you were scowling instead of looking so sweet.  Dame Mena, if you would demonstrate the proper alignment of facial muscles…?"

"This is serious, Justicar," said Savina.  

"That's why I joke."  Kormick paused.  "So the question is:  do we bring this man back to civilization to face his death, or do we kill him here?"

"If he must die," said Mena, "I would like it to be public and aboveboard, and the Hillside District peasants should be able to see it if they wish.  As victims, they deserve to see their enemy pay for his crimes."

"We could let them kill him," said Kormick.  "Mob justice is ugly, but effective."

"No, I'm with Mena," Tavi said.  "This needs to be impartial, official.  The mob can watch, but they can't tear him apart."

"If we return him to Hillside District," said Savina, "I will take responsibility for observing his death and offering the appropriate prayers.  I – I know it won't be pleasant, but I really think that's what we have to do."

"If that is what we have to do," said Mena, "I will stand watch with you during his death."

"And I must, too," added Nyoko.  "In fact, I will request if there is any chance that you may elect to order his execution, that we rest here and that I have a full night's sleep before we begin, because once his execution is underway I must Witness its entirety."  

Arden knew she'd be sitting vigil, too, watching the man die of thirst.  She wondered if Savina and Nyoko were prepared for it.  Despite everything, they were still so young, so innocent.

_Never underestimate your mistress_, she reminded herself. 

"We should try squeezing him for information, though," said Kormick.  "You never know.  If he can point us toward the guys who burnt the Temple in Lord's Edge…"

Twiggy spoke up.  "We gave his accomplice, Yutaka, an honorable death in exchange for information.  A _quick_ death.  If he has information, and we can get it . . . Dying of thirst would take a long time.  And – and we have other matters to attend to in Cauldron.  The prophecy… " She trailed off.

"We can't keep bargaining with heretics," said Savina.  "We have to do what the law says."

"With respect, Nyoko-san says _we_ are the law," said Twiggy.  "We can do this however we see fit."

"Gentlefolk…" Arden spoke up, deciding that two brushes with death, several men killed, and an angel defeated, all in this one pursuit, had earned her the right to set aside propriety for once.  She agreed with Twiggy and Kormick, to the extent that Godsforsaken mortal justice was going to require that they find a stable balance between punishing this man and learning everything he knew about the wider Tide conspiracy.  "If I may suggest, perhaps we could bring him back to Cauldron. We could place him in custody there while you investigate what he knows, what his sentence should be, whether you're prepared to negotiate with him, and in what ways." 

"With respect, Arden," said Nyoko, "if you were to bring this man to Cauldron it would be a grave insult to yourselves and to the Inquisition.  It would be admitting weakness."

Arden wanted to ask "why?", but despite Nyoko's exceptionally polite phrasing, the Adept's tone was both cutting and final.  Arden bowed her head and silently accepted the rebuke.  The conversation resumed without her.

In the end, as the sun set, the debate about Kawazu’s fate died without clear resolution:  they learned that death by torture was not a pleasant dinner topic. 

Sometime in the night, Arden heard the bound prisoner begin to groan.  He'd returned to consciousness, but he was gagged, so words were impossible.  He only groaned.  

Arden rolled over and prepared to tune him out, but then she heard the crunching footsteps of Kormick, who was keeping watch.  There was a strangled noise in the dark as Kormick, no doubt, gripped the man's throat.  "Greetings," the Justicar murmured.  "If you fail to keep scrupulously quiet until we allow you the use of your voice, you will discover new and surprising depths of fear and pain."

Kawazu gurgled in assent.


----------



## Ilex

*18x02*

In the morning, everyone ate and dressed a little self-consciously as Kawazu watched them with darting, fearful eyes.  Nyoko borrowed the use of Savina's tent and emerged in full Adept robes, hair, and makeup.  The Inquisitors joined the Adept in a circle around their prisoner.  Arden, as the Inquisitors' servant, decided that because she couldn't ask questions herself, now would be a perfect time to sharpen her daggers and all the cooking knives. She gathered the blades and the whetstone and settled in to observe.  Rose came and sat not far away, stroking Whisper's head and not watching the interrogation directly.

"Well, good morning to you, sunshine," said Mena to Kawazu.

"Be advised," Nyoko said, "that you have been captured and detained by the Inquisition.  I stand as Witness to all that occurs here."

Arden scraped her dagger across the whetstone.  _Zing._  Kawazu shot his eyes toward her, and she met them with a cold smile.  She was convinced that information was necessary to a good solution, and so she wanted him to talk:  to confess, and while he was at it, to babble the names of every Tidesman from here to Lord's Edge.

_Zing._ 

Kormick undid the gag and splashed a little water in the general direction of the prisoner's mouth.  Kawazu sputtered.  "I'll tell you nothing," he choked out.

"Thank you for informing us so straightforwardly," said Mena.  She turned to the group.  "If that's all he's going to say, I suppose we must simply proceed with the execution."

"I take it back.  We can reach an understanding," said Kawazu. 

"My congratulations, sir," answered Kormick.  "Even Hans the Squealer never caved that fast."

"You're welcome.  I'll make it worth it to you."

"The stakes are so much higher for you than for us," said Twiggy.  "What could you possibly offer?"

"Names.  Big names."

"Of?"

"High-ranking nobles in Cauldron.  Tidesmen, all of them.  With big plans.  _Big_ plans."

"You can _implicate_ people, of course," said Kormick.  "But would it be true?"

"I'm a coward, not a fool.  Of course it'd be true."

"Very well," said Twiggy.  "Give us the names, and in return we will offer you an honorable death."

Kawazu snorted.  "I don't think so.  If any part of our deal involves my death, I won't talk."

"If you expect us to be so extraordinarily lenient, then we must first be certain that your information is good," Twiggy asked. "How can we confirm that?"  Arden wasn't sure how Twiggy had ended up taking the lead in this conversation, but no one seemed to mind.  Twiggy's tone was endearingly similar to the logical, curious tone she used whenever she was probing for some explanation about how the world worked.

"I'll come with you quietly, let you lock me up in Cauldron while you check my story… as long as she Witnesses that you've agreed to spare my life if my information is good."  He nodded at Nyoko.

"You'll let us confine you?"

"Yes, fine, whatever it takes.  Oh – except you also have to make sure that no Tidesmen are guarding me.  I'm not going to go through all this just to have my throat slit by some undercover Tidesman among the Inquisitors who wants to shut me up."

"So," summarized Twiggy, "you agree to tell us everything and remain in custody until we have verified that your information is good, as long as Nyoko-san Witnesses the agreement and we make sure you're protected from the Tidesmen you're betraying."

"Correct."

Twiggy turned to the group.  "What do you all think?"

Kormick grabbed Kawazu by the shoulder of his tunic and dragged him over to the treeline, tying him to a tree out of earshot from their deliberations.

"He seems truthful," said Savina thoughtfully.  "If he really knows enough for us to save people's lives, and we can hold him while we check that out, then… I think Alirria would want us to save lives more than she'd want us to destroy his."

"Indeed.  His talk of the Tide's '_big_ plans' got my attention," said Mena.  "I hate to think what Sedellus might inspire them to unleash if we don't learn what he knows."

"What do you think, Rose?" asked Tavi.  

"It's your decision," she said resolutely.  

"Then… I guess we take the deal," said Tavi.

_Zing_.  Arden kicked up sparks with the force of her stroke across the whetstone, and Twiggy turned in her direction.

"What do you think, Arden?" Twiggy asked.

"Please you, gentlefolk," Arden answered. "Your prisoner is dictating his own terms.  You're giving him everything he asked for.  I think we need his information, so we do need to spare his life, but beyond that… he should pay."

"Can we enslave him?" Savina promptly asked Nyoko. 

_Zing._  Arden kept her expression rigidly neutral.  _Never. Underestimate. Your. Mistress._

"We have no slavery in the Sovereignty," Nyoko reminded them.  "Criminals who aren't executed are often branded, however."  

"Well, then," said Tavi.  "First thing, when we get back to Cauldron, he's branded."

"I'm eager to see your specific brand for 'The craven mid-level boss in a terrorist organization who sold out his comrades," said Kormick.

"We do believe in precise labeling," agreed Nyoko.  

"It's a subtle trait of your people's, but being a careful cultural observer, I've noticed it."

Kormick retrieved Kawazu, and Twiggy, still acting as spokesperson, presented their conclusion.  Kawazu tried to argue that the brand would identify him to vengeful Tidesman, requiring him to remain perpetually in custody or exile himself to some distant land if he wanted to live, but Twiggy boldly presented the deal as if it were branding or death, and Kawazu gave in. 

Nyoko Witnessed their agreement.

Kawazu immediately listed many unfamiliar names and their low-level criminal activities: embezzlement to support the Tide, attempts to intimidate Cauldron's non-traditional worshippers.  

"You said _big_ names," Kormick reminded him.  "I will know a big name when Lady Nyoko-san's eyebrow moves upward ever so slightly with shock.  Notice how, at this moment, she is entirely un-shocked."

"I've saved the best for last," said Kawazu.  "The leader of the Tide in Cauldron, the one who approved of the operation in Hillside District, is my aunt.  That is, Mother Superior Kawazu Noriko.  Head of the Priesthood in the city."

Both Nyoko's eyebrows shot skyward.

Not long afterward, Arden swung onto her horse and followed the rest of the group back to the road and east toward Cauldron.  Kawazu – bound, magically disguised, and hooded for secrecy – was flopped across the front of Kormick's saddle.  The mood was somber:  Kawazu's revelation that the Tide controlled a crucial part of Cauldron's government was unnerving.  But Arden was feeling cheerful.  With the help of her suggestions and Twiggy's interrogation, they'd stumbled into some kind of mortal justice.  _Score one for the servants_, Arden thought.


----------



## Ilex

*18x03*

In the city of Cauldron, Tavi led the way into Lord Ono's office.  Ono stood up to greet them with the wary stance of a swordsman who expected an ambush.  Tavi nodded his head politely.  "Lord Ono," he said.  "We have solved some of your problems… but perhaps brought you some new ones."

Ono gestured for them to sit.  "I hear you've placed a prisoner in my dungeons.  Under special guard."  

"We have.  Justicar Kormick is with him."  Kormick had volunteered to keep an eye on Kawazu – and Kawazu's guards – until they could be sure that there were no Tidesmen among them.

"I'm sure I'll regret asking – but who is the prisoner?" asked Ono. 

Tavi, with help from Savina and Twiggy, explained the story of Kawazu's arrest for heresy and the subsequent deal they'd made with him.  Tavi concluded by saying, "He informs us that the Mother Superior of the Priesthood leads a vast Tide conspiracy here in Cauldron."

Ono's face remained utterly neutral for a moment.  Then he bent forward and began to thud his head steadily against his stone desk.

"Lord Ono-san?" asked Savina.  "Are you all right?"

He left his head resting on the desktop for a moment.  "Just one good night's sleep… just one…" he said, muffled. Then raised his head, rubbing his brow.  "I knew there were conspirators.  I didn't know how bad it was.  This is a matter beyond my authority – I'll need to consult with Lady Akiko-san at once."

Twiggy caught Tavi's eye, and he knew what she was thinking:  Lady Akiko-san was Head of the Inquisition for the entire Sovereignty _and_ heir to the Lord High Regent. The party had speculated that the Lord High Regent of the Sovereignty—that mysterious and elderly leader whom few ever saw—_might_ be the dying king mentioned in the prophecy, in which case Lady Akiko would be a useful person to know.

"What do you think she will want you to do?" asked Mena. 

"The Priesthood is powerful in Cauldron," answered Ono, "and the only way to _begin_ to deal with this would be to go the long way around the Circle… which is almost unheard-of.  So _that_ won't be difficult at all..."  He groaned.  Tavi waited, but Ono didn't offer additional explanations.  Instead, the man shook his head to clear it and changed the subject.  "But to your immediate concern.  I will assign only trusted men to guard Kawazu.  Some _do_ still exist.  You have my word – your man will live."

"Thank you," said Tavi.  "If I may trouble you with another matter, what's become of my aunt, Mariela di Raprezzi?"

Ono rolled his eyes.  "We sent her and her men home," he said.  "Not before she gave our diplomats a real challenge.  Your aunt is… formidable."  

Next to Tavi, Twiggy gave a discreet _you're telling me_ snort.  "Lord Ono-san," she said then, "We were also wondering – did your people manage to find that old record for us?"

Ono brightened slightly.  "Ah.  Yes.  Surprisingly… we did."  He rooted around at the bottom of a stack of papers.  As he pulled a sheet free, the entire stack tumbled over.  Ono's brightness vanished instantly; he glared at the stack as if it had personally offended him.   Then he looked down at the sheet, frowned, and turned it around as if trying to figure out which way was up.  "The scribe who copied this should have been fired.  Perhaps you can make sense of it – "  He handed the sheet to Nyoko.  "Now, if you'll excuse me," he continued, "I must speak to Lady Akiko-san without delay."

"Of course," said Tavi.  As he and the others left the room, he thought he heard the dull sound of Ono's head thudding on the desk again.

As soon as they were in the carriage, Twiggy practically pounced on Nyoko. "What does it say?  Are there clues to explain the prophecy?"

"It is … odd," said Nyoko.  "It appears to be the ravings of a madwoman, nothing more…" She began to read.



> *The Rantings of Ka’ang Sheh, Convicted Infidel and Murderess*
> 
> Recorded faithfully by Adept Oruga
> 
> Quoth:
> 
> “Fools!  Fanatics and fools!  You’ve no idea what you do!  You sign your own death warrant by putting pen to mine.  I and mine are all that hold your doom at bay!  The agent will come, the agent of destruction.  You think the only pieces that matter are the ones in play?  The game runs deeper than you know.  The agent will come and make the sacrifice, and the sky will open and the seas will boil.  The earth, your earth, your precious earth will shake and crack and won’t protect you, no, not then, not ever again!  You’ll die, your children will die, their children will die in pain, in fire, in flood, die to dust!  Die like the Go’nah-li.  Die like the Sheh, who guarded you for generations!  The game runs deeper than you know, deeper than you can see when you’re blinded by the rules.  There were signs!  There were tells!  That’s why they had to die, to save the rest of you!  To save your fools and your fanatics!  Tell them!  Tell them all that the agent will come!  Mark my words!  The agent of destruction will come and bring your death!”



As Nyoko finished reading, Tavi glanced at Rose.  She looked paler than usual, but she said nothing.  The others talked it over throughout the ride back to the Adept House, but they couldn't settle on an interpretation.  The prophecy was not yielding its secrets easily.

At the Adept House, the girls scattered to the baths and Kormick declared his intention to become better acquainted with the city's taverns.  Tavi was heading for the baths, himself, when a servant gave him a message: he had a visitor.  Tavi followed the messenger to a small parlor where a figure in fine Hennan clothing was pacing.  The figure wheeled around as Tavi approached the door.  "Finally! What in the _Gods' names_ are you doing here!"

It was Tavi's older brother, Diego.

Tavi stepped cautiously into the room, hand on his sword hilt.  He checked the corners for Mariela and the family guard.  No one else was there.

"I might ask you the same thing," he told Diego.

"Yeah, but I asked first."  Diego had a definite twinkle in his eye, and Tavi dared to relax.  Slightly.

"I'm protecting Rose and the family," he said.  "In other words, I'm doing exactly what I was raised to do."

"No one doubts your intentions.  That's not the point.  It's your methods.  Sneaking away, coming to this Godsforsaken place – and what are you wearing?  Is that some kind of local _uniform_?"  Diego was teasing now, not being genuinely critical, and Tavi shrugged in pretend nonchalance.

"We've joined the Sovereign Inquisition—obviously," he said. 

"Obviously."

"A man does what he must."

"Outlandish costumes and all."

"This is how it has to be," said Tavi, returning to seriousness.  We're both sorry to have caused the family trouble.  But Rose decided it was time to do this, and I support her."

"Well.  I know Mother hasn't made it easy on you two."

"How is Mother… ?"

"Apoplectic.  She hasn't calmed down since you ran away, and this latest incident with Aunt Mariela… " Diego suppressed a smile.  "It wasn't pretty, Tavi.  But Father and Grandmother are trying their best to control her."

Tavi was fed up with his mother's fearsome over-protectiveness of Rose, but he respected her, too.  He was glad his father was "controlling" her, and he was also sorry that such an esteemed person needed to be "controlled" at all.  

He wished she could trust him.

Into the silence, Diego said, "I'm fairly certain I know the answer to this next question, but … will you and Rose come back with me?  Please?"

Tavi looked his brother in the eye.  "Diego, if I believed it would serve Rose's interests, and our family's, I would.  Instantly.  But I am coming to believe that, sixteen years ago, Mother opened up a much larger problem than anyone has yet understood.  My hope is that what we're doing here is part of solving it."

Diego's eyes searched his own for a moment.  Then he nodded.  "I hope you're right," he said.

"I'm sure she won't hear it," Tavi said, "but please tell her that I'm acting out of love and duty.  I understand that she doesn't like it, but as I said, she raised me to do this."

Diego smiled.  "You're right, she won't hear it, but I'll tell her."

"And tell Father… that while it's not what I expected, I am thankful to be facing our fate rather than hiding from it."

Diego nodded.  "Well.  Give my regards to Rose," he said.  "I miss you two, you know.  Oh – and apologize to Dame Mena.  She's not really fired.  That was just Mariela being Mariela."  

Tavi smiled.  "Thanks, Diego," he said, and held out his hand. "Try to keep a lid on Mother?  Get her to give us some space?"

Diego took his hand.

"I'll try.  And good luck, brother.  You're going to need it."


----------



## Ilex

*18x04*

On the eve of Ehkt Rising, Arden followed the gentlefolk as they filed back into Lord Ono's office.  The man had summoned them for an urgent meeting, but at first, he didn't seem to be present.  Then, from the floor behind the desk, came a low moan.  Ono was lying on the ground there, eyes closed.

"Lord Ono-san!" Savina raced forward.  "Are you hurt?"

"I wish.  If I were, maybe I could take a day off."

"Do you have a migraine?" Savina pressed.

"Always."

Savina started to pray for healing, but Ono sat up and brushed her off.  "I'm fine, I'm fine.  I didn't accept this job because it'd be easy."

"Why _did_ you accept it?" asked Kormick.

"When I remember, I'll let you know."  Ono took his place, straight-backed, behind his desk and surveyed them with a more professional air.  "I informed my superior, Lady Akiko-san, that the Mother Superior here in Cauldron has been implicated in the Tide conspiracy," he said.  "Lady Akiko-san was… not thrilled.  But we both agree that the evidence is plausible and an Inquest must be opened into the matter."

"That's good news!" said Savina.

"Wait for it…" muttered Kormick.

"Unfortunately," continued Ono, "because the Priesthood is up the Circle from the Inquisition—meaning that they have authority over us—they can put a stop to any investigation we begin.  We cannot exert power directly upon them.  As I feared, we must go the long way around the Circle."  He had used that phrase before, Arden recalled, but he hadn't yet clarified its meaning.  He apparently felt it must be obvious.

"That is an exceptional measure," Nyoko said.  Clearly the meaning of the phrase was obvious to her, as well.  

"I noticed," said Ono.  "Why else do you think my head is pounding?  What's worse, Lady Akiko-san and I agree that our best chance of pulling it off successfully is to give the job to our heathen Inquisitors, here.  That is, to you all.  No one will suspect you of playing so deep a political game until it's too late.  We hope."

"All right," Kormick sighed.  "I sense a complicated explanation coming about intricate yet scrupulously logical Sovereign governmental structures and procedures.  Let's get started.  What's the Circle, again?"

Ono looked at Kormick from under lowered brows and muttered, "'What's the Circle,' the man asks.  May Kettenek defend us." 

"The Circle," Nyoko reminded them, "is the basic structure of Sovereign government.  It is a circle of seven divisions, called Rings.  Each Ring has a leader, each has a specific set of responsibilities, and each has power over the two Rings 'below' it in the Circle.  In this way, no single Ring has total power.  Everyone is subject to someone else.  The Inquisition is below the Circle from the Priesthood, so the Priesthood can disallow any Inquest it wishes.  The Mother Superior of the Priesthood, you may recall, would have intervened to save her nephew Kawazu from you had he reached Cauldron before you captured him."

"And this procedure you keep talking about?  Going the long way around the Circle?"

"That," continued Nyoko, "is the only avenue open to a Ring that's in the Inquisition's situation in this case.  To exert authority over a Ring that has power over you, you must gain the cooperation of the Rings that have power over them."

“And that is done… how?”

“Traditionally,” Nyoko said, “by gaining the cooperation of the Rings that have power over _them_.”

Kormick blinked and turned to Twiggy.  “Are you following this?  Because I’m--” 

“Unfortunately,” Lord Ono interrupted, “it’s not quite that simple.”

“No. No, of course it isn’t.”  Kormick looked at Nyoko.  “Just to be sure, the word ‘simple’ here means the same thing that it does where we come from?”

“Traditionally,” Lord Ono continued, "on the rare occasions when a Ring has successfully gone the Long Way around the Circle, the Head of the other Ring recognizes that they have been outmaneuvered and backs down.  In this case, the Mother Superior has much to lose—including potentially her life.  If she does not back down, she can still overrule our Inquest of her, at which point we will be forced to exert our power over her, and the entire Circle will bog down into a stalemate.”

“So… how do we stop her?” Savina asked.

"The heads of the four churches here in Cauldron are known as the Synod, a body that came into existence only after the Affirmation.  They are an advisory council to the Mother Superior, mostly a figurehead group with very little power.  But the Synod can, by unanimous consent, overrule the Mother Superior in her decision to order or end an Inquest.  If we can get all four members of the Synod on our side as well, she will not be able to end our Inquest.  She will have no further legal recourse, and will be forced to concede when the Rings above her order her to step down.”

Silence met this proclamation.

“I should add that no Synod has ever actually exercised this power. They will probably be... reluctant. So. There’s that."

"Is this a matter of taking a few meetings, then?" asked Tavi.  

"It is not," said Ono, "because if the Mother Superior receives even a hint of what we're doing—even the slightest whisper—she will shut us down.  For that matter, she could order an Inquest of _us_. The Inquisition must somehow find ways to meet with these leaders without Mother Kawazu knowing, which is why Lady Akiko-san thinks you heathens are the only ones with a hope of pulling it off.  Once you've set up the meetings, then there's only the problem of persuading all those power players to go along with this harebrained and totally unprecedented scheme."

"Let me get this straight," said Kormick.  "You're asking _us_ to secretly persuade five of Cauldron's leaders, plus four heads of churches, that their vastly esteemed chief priestess is corrupt and needs to be unseated?  _Us_?"

Ono nodded and then flashed a wry smile.  "In your spare time, you might also investigate the Tide itself, in case their next attack is imminent.  Recall that I trust very few of my own men with such a job."  Ono paused. "You see why I was under my desk."

"I begin to see that, yes."  Kormick sounded bemused and beleaguered, and Arden could practically hear the old refrain running in his head:  _This was supposed to be a quick job… pampered city girl... nice trip to view the countryside…_  Arden surveyed the room, gauging how the rest of the group was feeling:  Tavi glanced at Rose, who shrugged at him, still pointedly refusing to influence the group's choices.  Savina looked resolute, as if unaware that there was even a choice to be made.  Twiggy was whispering to Mena.  Arden caught the words "dying king" and "Akiko-san is his heir" and knew that Twiggy was reminding Mena that a good relationship with Akiko might help them investigate the prophecy's words.

Ono was studying the room, too.  Seeing no one leaping for joy at his proposal, he spoke again, softly this time:  "If anyone can do this, you can.  I know it sounds crazy, but Mother Kawazu would be onto me and my usual men in a heartbeat.  Assuming she's truly got something to hide, she'll be watching for us to make a move.  But she'd never suspect a group of heathen visitors.  You're our best bet for bringing down the Tide in Cauldron."

Arden hadn't forgotten the anger she'd felt a few days ago when she heard that the Tide had massacred the Honored Mother and his Alirrian sisters in Lord's Edge.  She had wanted them punished, and now Lord Ono was putting the means for such punishment into their hands.  Whatever other priorities she had, whatever other priorities Rose and the others had, stopping the Tide was what they needed to do now.

"We have to stop the Tide," said Savina, and Arden considered how strange it was to hear her _mistress_, of all people, speak the same idea she had been thinking.

"Any objections?" asked Kormick.

The room was silent.

"Then I guess we're in," Tavi said. 

Lord Ono did not look as reassured as Arden might have wished.  

They left the House of the Inquisition in the evening.  No one spoke much.  The unfamiliar yet gigantic challenge Ono had asked of them—going the long way around the Circle—hung ominously before them;  even the task of planning their first move was daunting.  That said, in a few hours it would be Ehkt Rising: the day set aside for making bold personal resolutions and facing the challenges of the year.  

If they were going to face this task, Arden decided, they could hardly find a better time.

###

The festival day—the first day of summer—dawned with overcast skies and a few fitful gusts of wind, but the rain never came.  Instead, by midday, the clouds had burned away and sun baked the pavements of the city as they walked to Cauldron's central Temple for the noontime service.  They took places in the vast crowd and waited for the Mother Superior—their new and unwitting quarry—to arrive and begin the prayers.

As Temple acolytes began a long procession down the main aisle, bearing torches and singing a strangely solemn hymn, Arden thought back to her resolution on this holiday one year ago.  Chained in the bleak muddy depths of an Aegosian mine, her Ehkt Rising resolution had been, in her opinion, eminently bold, clear-cut, and realistic: to drop dead as soon as possible.  

That hadn't worked out.  

Then again, neither had most of her other Ehkt Rising resolutions, going back years—owners always interfered somehow.

The procession reached the front of the Temple, and a steel-haired woman in elaborate black and white robes swept her arms wide in a gesture of invocation:  the Mother Superior—the secret leader of the Tide—had arrived.

She welcomed them all to the services commemorating the day of "Ehkt's Folly," and then she began to preach.  As she spoke, Arden was amused to realize that the Sovereign version of the holiday painted the god of summertime and challenge as a reckless and violent troublemaker—a rapist and fratricide, even—who was unable to control his own temper and desires. The sermon was thus a somber Kettenite version of an Ehkt Rising message, exhorting everyone to set aside selfish goals and instead boldly resolve to make the world a more just place…  

_This hypocrite doesn't have a clue what that really means_, Arden thought suddenly.  _And even if she did… I think I'm done with resolutions.  I'm sick of watching them fail._  But the deepest, most secret part of herself made a resolution anyway.  

And when the summertime sun of Ehkt rose the next day, they began to go the long way around the Circle.


----------



## Seonaid

How far in advance do you plan, Fajitas? I mean, it's obvious there is a general broad plot, but do you have encounters for two or three sessions plotted at a time usually? Assuming you're willing to answer that in front of your players.


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## Ilex

Political skill challenges.

How far ahead does he plan.

Oh.

Oh, he plans. And he didn't call it "skill challenges," _exactly_....  

But I will let him explain when he gets a moment.


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## Seonaid

The game is just so detailed that I have a hard time believing any of it is made up on the fly. It's like a murder mystery, where all the hints are sprinkled throughout, starting on the first page, and only when you've read the conclusion do you see the whole impact (and genius) of the novel.


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## Fajitas

Seonaid said:


> The game is just so detailed that I have a hard time believing any of it is made up on the fly. It's like a murder mystery, where all the hints are sprinkled throughout, starting on the first page, and only when you've read the conclusion do you see the whole impact (and genius) of the novel.



Yes and no, is pretty much the answer.  Obviously, there is the Grand Plan, which has been well worked out since before the campaign started.

From that plan, I broke things down into tiers (of which there will actually only be two in this game--Epic Level play isn't really quite right for the Halmae).  From there, I split each tier into halves, and beyond that I sort of broke things down by individual levels.  

Well, sort of.  That part is kind of an ongoing process.  We're now at 8th level, and I have things pretty well mapped out through the end of Heroic.  I have a broad idea for how the first half of Paragon will map out, and a vague idea of how the second half will go.

That said, I'm always willing to improvise within my planned structure.  For example, the political intrigue set-up that I detailed above was originally intended to be a one-session story.

It ended up covering about 14 games and two levels.  More about that shortly.

So, y'know.  There's a plan.  But it's flexible.

For me, the important thing is to know where we're going.  That lets me figure out the steps that I need to take in order to get there, which in turn makes everything feel organic and well planned out.

That said, I'm still trying to figure out what the hell we're actually going to do in this weekend's game.


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## WisdomLikeSilence

Fajitas said:


> That said, I'm always willing to improvise within my planned structure.  For example, the political intrigue set-up that I detailed above was originally intended to be a one-session story.
> 
> It ended up covering about 14 games and two levels.  More about that shortly.




Going the long way around the circle was epic.  In 25 years of gaming I've never seen a DM attempt anything quite so complicated.  We needed an Excel spreadsheet to keep track of everything.  It was a heck of a lot of fun, but I'm curious to see how our lovely writers explain it all...


----------



## Fajitas

Apologies for the delay, but the story you’re about to hear requires some explanation...

As I think we mentioned, WisdomLikeSilence and I had a baby last year.  The plan was that we’d take a little break on the game when the baby was born, and start playing again after a few months.

In order to keep up the story momentum, I planned to run a little PBEM (play-by-e-mail) adventure over those months we were off.  Thus, in the last adventure before we broke, I set up a political intrigue story, something that could be done entirely through role-play and some skill challenges—things that work pretty well on-line.  I figured we’d play it out over e-mail and pick up the adventuring when we got back.

It was a good plan.  Until I failed to get the PBEM going.  

Having a newborn baby, it turns out, is kind of a lot of work. 

So when we finally came back to play, I had this political intrigue story to pick up.  I figured I’d adapt my PBEM into the gameplay for the first session, wrap the political plot up that first night back and then move along.  

Ha.

The gameplay for the political intrigue story was based off of something a friend-of-a-friend Will Hindmarch had come up with.  The idea was a series of interlocking skill challenges.  Completing a challenge provided some benefits toward completing other challenges, but also unlocked new skill challenges that would then unlock further challenges and so on.  The goal was to provide lots of things for any character to do, with a wide variety of clever ways to approach any given problem.

The initial idea was that the characters would, in game, be able to deal with the intrigue in a week or two and then move on, but at some point I decided it was ridiculous that this nearly impossible task could be accomplished in so short a time.  So I decided that this would be a summer-long task.  This readily suggested a structure wherein each player got to take one skill challenge action per in-game week, over the course of 13 weeks.

But that also didn’t seem quite right, because some tasks (like trying to make enough of a social splash to gain an audience with the Head of the Peerage) take time, while other tasks (like actually convincing the Head of Peerage to join your side) are more or less real time.  So I split the skill challenges off into Tasks, the normal, time-consuming, one-a-week challenges, and Events, which were more or less instantaneous.  

Then I came up with skill challenges.  

Lots and lots of skill challenges.

Not every skill challenge was the same.  Some were standard X Successes before Y Failures; some were more direct “Accumulate Z points”.  Some were physical, some social, some somewhere in between.  Some were open to all players; some had to be undertaken only by a specific player.  Some characters had character-based bonuses on certain skill challenges.  I tried as hard as I could to make them all different, lest this become painfully repetitive.

Whatever the hell I was doing, it rapidly became clear that it needed a name other than “the Skill Challenges”.  Something bigger.  More ambitious. 

It became the Skill Cascade.

Here’s how it worked.

###
*Skill Cascade Rules*

Each player may make 1 roll for 1 Task once per week.

Relevant Encounter Powers may be used 1/week.  If used in a Task, they may not be used in any other encounters that week.  At-Will Powers may be used any time. Daily Powers may be used once over the course of the Cascade; they will recharge, however, if you take a week off (i.e. make no roll for the week).

If Combat occurs during the Skill Cascade, you start a combat with all your powers as normal; use of powers in Combat does not affect their usability in the Cascade.

Rose can be used to Aid Another 1/week, OR she can use a scroll to cast a Ritual as her action.

Action Points may be used to either:
	Make a second roll on any challenge, OR reroll a roll you don’t like.
	You regain your Action Points only if you take a week off.
	Use of Action Points in the Skill Cascade has no affect on their usability in combat.

_Bennies_
	Bennies are awarded for use of a skill you are NOT TRAINED in or for a really clever, creative, or awesome Skill Cascade moment.  Bennies grant a +2 bonus on ANY skill challenge roll that may be used AFTER the dice are rolled.

_Scrolls_
	As an action, you may scribe 4 scrolls in a week. You must pay the market cost of each.
	You may use 1 scroll as your action per week; 

_Other Modifiers_
	+2 for creative use of skills
-2 for using the same skill the same way twice in a challenge

###
And, for those who are really curious, the initial open challenges were the following:

*Initial Open Challenges*
PRIESTHOOD
Arrest the Mother Superior of the Church of Kettenek in the City of Cauldron.

LANDS
Do ??? to meet with the Head of the Ring of Lands

MILITARY
Do ??? to meet with the Head of the Ring of the Military

PEERAGE
Draw the attention of the Head of the Ring of the Peerage by building a reputation as socially meaningful heathen newcomers to Cauldron.

BORDERS
Arrange a meeting with the Head of the Ring of Borders using the recent diplomatic incident with Pol Henna as a pretense.

ADEPTS
Meet with the Head of the Adepts to convince him to support you in your effort to go the Long Way around the Circle.

MEET EHKTIAN COMMUNITY
Build a good reputation with the local Ehktian churches to attempt to secure a meeting with the Head of the Ehktian Church.

MEET ALIRRIAN COMMUNITY
Build a good reputation with the local Alirrian churches to attempt to secure a meeting with the Head of the Alirrian Church.

MEET SEDELLAN COMMUNITY
Build a good reputation with the local Sedellan churches to attempt to secure a meeting with the Head of the Sedellan Church.

LEARN SOVEREIGN CULTURE
Study Sovereign culture with the Adepts to improve your social awareness (grants a bonus to all Sovereign Social Checks)

RESEARCH THE PROPHECY
Take advantage of the Adepts’ Library to try to learn more about the various prophecies you have received

IDENTIFY TIDE INQUISITORS
Identify Tidesmen within the Inquisition.

INFORMATION CHECKS
Gain intel and insight into relevant people and situations (grants a +2 bonus to all dealings with those individuals)

Ladies and Gentlemen… welcome to the Skill Cascade.


----------



## Mort

Wow that is simply amazing!

I'm going to have to pilfer it and use it on my group (It might actually be the perfect way to simulate my group's upcoming situation with the Church of the Silver Flame in Ebberron).

Really looking forward to seeing how it played out.


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## Falkus

That... that is incredibly awesome. I am totally going to yoink that idea for the epic tier of my campaign!


----------



## ellinor

*19x01*

“So,” Kormick began, “last night’s service.  That was a bit more. . . rape-y than I expected.”

A warm morning breeze ruffled the window-silks of the sitting room at the Inn of Comfortable Repose, carrying with it the sulfurous aroma of Cauldron—what Nyoko thought of as the aroma of home.  Nyoko stifled the urge to explain, once more, the differences between Sovereign and heathen theological history.  “It must have seemed. . . . stern . . . to you,” she replied, “although not entirely unexpected, considering who was speaking.”

“The Mother Superior,” Savina replied, making no attempt to contain her contempt.

“Well, I, for one, made an Ehkt’s Rising resolution anyway,” said Twiggy.  As Twiggy continued, Nyoko absently touched the newest tattoo on her shoulder, still raw from its inking the night before.  It depicted a water lily, symbolizing her experience of being enslaved by the derro and experiencing the Godling’s prophecy at the Spring.  For Nyoko, Ehkt’s Folly was a day of dedicating oneself to the law of Kettenek . . . but this year, after the adventures she had personally faced, her celebration did not seem so different from the heathens’ version.

Kormick was talking.  “—that’s  . . . five bureaucratic leaders, plus four priests . . . in complete secrecy.  And Ono is determined that this be done before Sedellus Rising.”  He counted on his fingers.  “Thirteen weeks.  A luxury of time," he said, with only the faintest twist of skeptical sarcasm in his voice.  “That’s more than one whole week per co-opting.”  He shot a glance at Nyoko.  “Co-opting, cajoling, convincing . . . you pick the word.”

“Don’t forget, we still have to research the prophecy,” Twiggy chimed in.  “And keep investigating the Tide.”

“No danger of forgetting that,” Kormick replied.  

“And don’t forget, no one’s ever actually done this before,” Tavi pointed out.

“Just because it *hasn’t* been done,” Savina insisted, “doesn’t mean it *can’t* be.”

Kormick smiled incredulously.  “The reason I love you, Savina, is that you see that as a *good* thing.”

“So, where do we begin?” Tavi asked the group. 

“Where one always begins,” suggested Mena.  “With research.”

“Aah, Dame Mena, we are not cut from such different cloth,” nodded Kormick.  “I agree, research first.  True persuasion requires knowing the target’s deepest secrets and weaknesses.”  He shot another glance at Nyoko.  “Or just their  . . . hobbies.”

“So, Nyoko, what can you tell us about the leaders of Cauldron?”  asked Tavi.

“Not much, I’m afraid.  You know Lord Ono, head of the Inquisition, and you have met Lord Masa, head of the Adepts.  The head of Borders is Lord Endo; the head of the Peerage is Lady Chinatsu; the head of the Military is Lady Mochizuki; and the head of Lands is Lord Tanaka.  And of course there’s the Mother Superior.”

“And the Synod?”  

“There, I’m afraid, I know even less.  Sister Sweet Scent leads the Sedellan church, and Brother Funaki Saburo leads the Ehktians.  There is no formal Alirrian church in Cauldron, so the Synod member was appointed by the Mother Superior—he’s another Kawazu, Brother Kawazu Isao.  And Brother Ono Arato is the Kettenite representative on the Synod; he is the Mother Superior’s Second.”

“Ono?”  Tavi asked.  “Is he related to Lord Ono?”

“Distantly, I believe, but if they were close, I am sure Lord Ono would have mentioned it.”  Nyoko was frustrated that she could only offer scattered pieces of information rather than a complete dossier on each subject, but she knew her lack of knowledge was forgiveable: she had never been involved in politics, and had never had the opportunity to learn about their subjects.  But she did know something about the political system itself.  “If I may suggest," she said, "it makes sense to take the Rings one-by-one, in order.  It will be all the more difficult to convince a leader without having the consent of both rings directly above.  We know we act for the Inquisition.  If we wish to convince Borders, we should first approach the Adepts.”

“We may not all have to work on the same thing at once,” suggested Mena.  “I would like to become familiar with the Ehktians in this city.  Heathen Inquisitors getting to know the various local worshippers is a good way to catch the attention of the heads of the Churches… and to assure them that we mean no harm.”

“Young Master Tavi and Mistress Savina should ingratiate themselves to the Peerage as early as possible,” proposed Kormick.   

“I might be most useful in the Library researching the prophecy,” said Twiggy, “at least for now.”

“So what are we waiting for?”  Kormick gulped the last of the tea in his cup, slammed it down on the table, rose awkwardly from the pillow on which he sat, and lurched toward the sliding door as if to push his way through it.

Nyoko raised her hand in warning, fearing for the lovely rice-paper door panels.  “We won’t get very far with *any* of the leaders unless you spend some time educating yourselves in Sovereign customs,” she said.  “I can arrange lessons for you at the Adept House.”

###

*Week 1, Monday*

“Suki, back straight, chin down.  Signor Octavian, use your left hand.”

Tavi was sitting cross-legged on the floor, in a circle with about ten five-year olds dressed in the garb of Adept trainees.  Savina sat at Tavi’s left, Kormick at his right.  Together, they were learning how to hold a cup of tea.

“Place your thumb in the center of the back of the brush, and stir in a small circular motion, pressing steadily with your thumb.”

“Just like crushing a windpipe,” Kormick observed to the little girl sitting next to him.  

She raised her eyebrow.

###

*Tuesday*

Arden wove through the marketplace, laden with bolts of rich cloth and chiming vials of perfume.  “For my mistress,” she said, curtsying to the last in a long line of shopkeepers and darting out a hand to catch a bouquet of ribbons that the movement jostled from among her parcels. “Yes sir, she’s Signora Savina di Infusino.  She’s staying here in Cauldron for the summer, with Signor Octavian di Raprezzi and Signora Roseanna di Raprezzi.  Yes ma’am, they’re staying at the Inn of Comfortable Repose.  The di Raprezzi family is one of the leading families in Pol Henna, you know; they run the teleport network.  And the di Infusinos are on the Council there as well.  They’re honoring the city with their presence this summer.”

By the time she arrived back at the Inn, she was satisfied to learn that there was already a note inviting Savina to tea the following week.

###

*Wednesday*

Mena concentrated and tried to settle her nerves.  The temple of the Keepers of the Light was a small building, with an Ehktian symbol over the door and a torch burning outside despite the summer sun overhead.  

Mena and Rose arrived at noon, in time for prayers.  About two dozen people were there for the service, which was led by a Sovereign man in simple garb.  Mena was nervous.  Was it easier, now, to be in the Keepers’ temple, than it had been in Lord’s Edge? _Should it be?_  The service did not wait for her answer.  It was both familiar and strange, and Mena participated in the parts she knew.    

After the service, most of the people filed out, leaving the leader and a few others—some Sovereign, some not—in a room lined with books and scrolls.  _The great Histories,_ Mena knew.  But everyone was staring, eyes focused on the wakizashis that hung at the visitors’ hips.  _Imagine, if we'd worn our Inquisitors’ robes,_ thought Mena.

Mena introduced herself.  “Greetings to you in the Season of Ehkt.  I am Brother Spark, and this is my student, Roseanna.”  It felt good to say, she thought, and good to be surrounded by Keepers.  Unsettlingly good.  But she was not here to feel good.  She was not _on this earth_ to feel good.  “As you can tell, we are new to Cauldron.  We are assisting the Inquisition, here, in implementing the Affirmation.”  

The faces in the room were skeptical.  Mena would have been skeptical, too.  She dug in her memory for a tale from the Histories, one applicable to the current situation.  “It is . . . a great challenge, and part of Ehkt’s great tradition of education in adversity, as when Brother Flicker built the library in Pol Thane.”

“Although there, of course,” one of the parishioners said, “the Thaneans already had a thriving Ehktian faith.”

“Yes, but the Keepers of Light were virtually unknown there at the time,” another chimed in.  “The Keepers of Flame had all but bullied them out.”

“It’s not the same thing at all,” the first one said, dismissively.  “A much better example would be Saint Miles’s debate with Ossified the Just.”

“I considered that,” Mena said, “but given the way that tale ended, I thought a more uplifting story would be preferable.”

“There is the story of the Questor, the Sunblade, and the Keeper of Light, who had to escort a Waterwalker across the desert with the mail…” mused another. 

_The Thaneans aren’t the only one with a thriving Ehktian faith,_ thought Mena, _you’ve just proved that._

As the Ehktians behind him debated back and forth with one another, the man who had led the service stepped forward with a small smile.  “I am Brother Ember.  You and your student are welcome to study here.”

###

*Thursday*

As Twiggy laid out Rose’s wardrobe for the day, her mind was elsewhere—the library of the adepts.  This would be her fourth day in a row of wandering the stacks, reading scrolls with Ahiko-san, sorting out what might be the most fruitful lines of research for deciphering the prophecy.  Her mind swirled with options for what to look up next.  _Maybe today we’ll find something we can really use,_ she thought.

###

*Friday*

At the end of the week, as they walked to their meeting with Lord Masa, Nyoko had to admit that the heathens’ manners had improved markedly.  The sash on Kormick’s robe was tied correctly; Savina walked with the gait of a Sovereign noblewoman; even Tavi’s hummingbird seemed more appropriate, hovering above Tavi’s ear like an origami crane instead of jerking and swooping like a child hiding from his own shadow.

This was to be the first of their meetings with the Heads of the Rings.  And, hopefully, it would be met with success.  As one of the two Rings up-Circle from the Inquisition, an unfavorable response from the Adepts could hobble their efforts before they even began. 

Lord Masa welcomed them with a small bow.  “Lord Ono has informed me that you were able to resolve the matter in Hillside District.”

“We were glad to be of assistance,” Savina replied.

“And now we find ourselves in need of your assistance and close counsel,” began Tavi, demonstrating what he had learned with a small, appropriate bow.  One by one, the rest of the party followed suit.

“The situation is this, Lord Masa-san,” continued Kormick, more earnest than Nyoko had ever heard him before.  “When we came to this city, we did not know what lay before us.  Now we have learned that Kettenek needs us here in a way we could not anticipate.  You have no doubt heard of the Restless Tide of the One True Path.”

Lord Masa nodded, slightly.

“On our travel to the Hillside District, we learned, most distressingly, that the Tide is active here in Cauldron, betraying the orders of the Lord High Regent and undermining Kettenek’s will.  You understand, this goes beyond mere politics.  It is a matter of public safety with divine import.  We have credible testimony that the leader of the Tide in Cauldron is none other than the Mother Superior.  We need your help.  We are seeking the support of all of the Rings, and of the Synod, to enforce the will of Kettenek that the Affirmation be the law.”

Lord Masa was silent, and then looked to Nyoko.  

“I have Witnessed it, Lord Masa-san,” she said.  “Kormick-san speaks the truth.”

A ripple of concern flickered almost imperceptibly on Lord Masa’s face.  “Your cause is reasonable,” he began, “and your arguments persuasive.”  He paused.  “When the Circle is at war with itself, however, it is all the more important for the Ring of the Adepts to be impartial.  Therefore, I can tell you with certainty that if you obtain the consent of the other five rings, the Adepts will stand with you, and the Circle will remain complete.  For now, we remain neutral.”  He took a deep breath.  “Thank you for conferring with me.”

Nyoko wished for something more—an “I wish you the best” or an offer of aid.  But she knew it would not come.

“One down, eight to go,” said Kormick, as they filed out into the summer sun.


----------



## StevenAC

I can only echo what others have said -- this whole Skill Cascade idea is brilliant, and I can't wait to see how it works out.  (Although if it took 14 sessions, that'll take a while... )

Meanwhile, I've now updated the Collected Story Hour site up to the end of session 18.  I've also taken the opportunity to reorganise the files so that rather than lots of small, individual chapters, the story is now gathered into somewhat larger chunks.  And I've added a link to the complete Story Hour in one file for those who want to download the whole thing at once.


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## RedTonic

This is the sort of thing I'd like to implement in my numbers games... How awesome!


----------



## ellinor

*19x02*

On Sunday night, Nyoko lay awake on her mat at the Inn of Comfortable Repose, cataloguing the events of the last week in her mind and dreaming, ever so slightly, of the dormitories in the Adept House.  Here at the Inn, the others had turned in for the evening.  The Adept House would still be bustling, she knew, as no one went to bed before the Midnight services.  But she was needed here, to Witness the heathens’ inquest and, in the end, to Testify.

To say this inquest was unusual was understating the matter considerably.  Not just because of its ambitious nature, but also because of the shortage of information at hand.  Gradually, the Inquisitors were remedying that.  Kormick had volunteered to investigate the Military; Savina had—fittingly—volunteered to find out more about the Alirrians.  Tavi would work toward establishing himself in Cauldron society, as Savina had begun to do, which would give them access to information on a variety of topics.  Mena would continue making friends with the Ehktians; and Twiggy would continue her library research.  So far, they knew little.  By this time next week, Nyoko hoped, they would know more. 

The prayer bells  rang their call to services.  Nyoko heeded them.

*Week 2, Monday *

_I know a cop bar when I see one,_ thought Kormick, _and that’s a cop bar.  Let’s see what we can learn._

Inside The Inn Of Temporary Respite, a few men and women—some in military uniforms, some in civilian clothes, but with the formal bearing of those for whom “off-duty” had little meaning— sat at low tables, drinking rice wine and laughing.  Kormick plunked down at an empty table and ordered “some of that clear rice wine and some of those salty, crunchy things, what are they called…”

“Wontons,” said the barman.

“Yes, those.  And some rice wine,” he repeated.

After a few drinks—and after realizing, not for the first time, _This Sovereign rice wine is really quite a fascinating beverage_—Kormick slid toward the table beside him and listened.  The foursome was chatting about their commanding officer, who had apparently reprimanded one of their number with, Kormick gathered, debatable cause.

“Sergeants,” he interjected.  “They’re the same everywhere.  I’m from Dar Und, and I bet your stories and my stories are exactly the same.”  He bowed in the slightly-drunk version of what Nyoko’s colleagues had taught him.  “Kormick.”

They introduced themselves, with looks that said “this man is genially crazy.”  _Just so,_ thought Kormick.

“But the big bosses,” Kormick continued, “the big bosses are the ones you really have to look out for.  Less likely to yell, more likely to stab.  And never as smart as they think they are.”

“There is where we differ, Kormick-san,” said a young man who had introduced himself as Chibu.  “Our ‘big boss,’ Lady Mochizuki, is smart beyond telling.  She is a wise commander, and a strategic expert.  They say she is the best at playing Go since Rikitaru himself.”

“Playing Go?  Does she go, or does she stay?”

They rolled their eyes with the “genially crazy” look again.  “Go is a game of strategy, played with pieces on a board.  People play it in their homes, at gathering places, and in tournaments.  Lady Mochizuki has won many tournaments.  She is favored to win the tournament on Ehkt’s Judgment,” Chibu continued.  

“Tournament?”

“Yes.”  Another of the soldiers jumped in.  “On Ehkt’s Judgment there are all sorts of competitions.  Wrestling, arcane wrestling, feats of strength, feats of endurance . . . and Go.  It is a great festival.  You will still be in Cauldron for Ehkt’s Judgment, then?”

“Without doubt,” replied Kormick.

###

*Tuesday*

Mena walked into the Temple of the Keepers of the Flame.  Like the Temple of the Keepers of the Light, it bore an Ehktian symbol on the doorframe and a torch outside.  

In all other respects, they could not have been more different.  The athletic aromas of sweat and exertion hit Mena as soon as the door opened.  A few Sovereign men gathered inside; some were doing calisthenics, others were wrestling in a style Mena had not seen before.  

“I am Brother Spark,” said Mena to one, after he had grasped his opponent’s belt and pushed the large man down just outside a circle inscribed on the ground.  “Can you show me how to do that move?”

###

*Wednesday*

Tavi looked out onto the courtyard of the Adept House.  It was a lovely summer afternoon, and a brief but welcome respite from his rigorous program of training in Sovereign etiquette and spreading rumors about himself.  

_A necessary respite,_ Tavi thought, as he put down his pen, sealed the envelope with a small ball of wax, and wrote “Diego di Raprezzi, di Raprezzi estate, Pol Henna” in neat letters on the front.  _I would have liked to write this sooner._ 

Tavi envied Kormick’s ability to send letters via the teleport network—nearly every day, the Justicar teleported missives to Brother Scribe and, Tavi assumed, whomever Kormick reported to in King Four Fathom’s cohort—but that was not an option for Tavi.  His mother would certainly be intercepting anything that came through that way.  But, teleport or not, this had to be sent now:  Tavi could not depend on his brother returning to Cauldron, and this was a matter of some delicacy, requiring that groundwork be laid before Tavi returned to Pol Henna.  He would have to entrust the note to the Water Walkers’ mail system.  After all, that was how Savina posted letters to her father—Tavi had seen her do so just the day before.  _And Mother probably hasn’t co-opted the Water Walkers . . . _ Tavi thought.

###

*Thursday*

 Savina put on a new dress, made of lovely new Sovereign silk, and went to Tea.  Parties in Cauldron, she soon learned, were different from parties in Pol Henna—quieter, and with different beverages—but also the same.  As in Pol Henna, the servants and slaves stood in the corners, quietly gossiping with each other.  Arden was there now, watching, listening, smiling a little at one point, frowning and murmuring something else at another.  _I wonder what they talk about,_ Savina thought idly, as she introduced herself to their host.

And as in Pol Henna, the partygoers sipped beverages and discussed matters of the day.  Today, the matter was Savina.  Where was she from?  What had brought her to Cauldron?  Where was she staying?  What did she expect to do with her time here?  Savina answered, happily.  The partygoers were lovely people, and their interest was genuine.  Savina felt comfortable with them, with high society.  She could get used to this, she thought.

“Where are all the Alirrians?”  she asked, when it was her turn to ask questions.  “I mean, since the Affirmation, I would think there would be Alirrians.  Where are they?”

The room was quiet.   

Finally, one young woman explained.  “It’s not that there aren’t any, it’s just that . . . there aren’t any.  Because of that unpleasantness years ago, you know.  There are rumors of Alirrians who call themselves the Underground River, but there are no Alirrian temples, so they’d have nowhere to go.”

“But . . . what about the leader of the Alirrians, in the Synod?  Where does he worship?”

“Brother Trickling Fountain?”  the girl smiled, clearly amused by Savina’s question.  “There weren’t any Alirrians available, so the Mother Superior appointed one of her nephews.  Kawazu Isao.”

“Oh.”  Savina bit her lip.  “Who does the healing in Cauldron, then?”

The partygoers explained that several groups shared responsibility for healing in Cauldron.  Many Adepts were skilled at healing and massage; the Extinguishers of the Flame also concerned themselves with health matters, and of course there were the Twilight Sisters, who dealt with the seriously ill.  Savina nodded and listened politely, but on the inside, she felt cold.

_I was wrong.  I can’t get used to this,_ Savina thought. 

###

*Friday*

Twiggy stood up to stretch out the crick in her neck.  The cushioned benches in the library were remarkable—Twiggy’s back felt better than it should, after two weeks of daily study in the Adepts’ library—but the only cure for this stiff neck would be an answer to something in the prophecy, and so far, the books were not forthcoming.  She had been focusing on histories that might shed light on the Sheh, or the madwoman who had been killing baby girls 75 years ago, whose ravings had sounded like the prophecy . . . but all she had really learned was that the Sheh was a tribe that had lived in the Ketkath, that had, with much effort by the Inquisition, ultimately been eradicated.  It didn’t feel like much of a research victory.  And Twiggy’s neck hurt.

The loremaster, Ahiko, returned with yet another tome as big as his torso.  Twiggy couldn’t stand it.  “Ahiko-san,” she asked, thinking of Kormick's news about the head of the Military ring, “are you familiar with the game of Go?”

The loremaster’s wizened face brightened and grew a grin.  “My dear heathen lady,” he bubbled, “have you been experiencing our pastimes?”

“No,” Twiggy offered, “but I think I would like to.”

Ahiko pulled a wooden board and a pouch of white and black pebbles from behind his desk.  “You’ll be a natural, Twiggy-san,” he said, placing the board on the library table to reveal a scored grid-shape on its face.  “I’m sure of it.” 

###

*Saturday*

As the second week of summer drew to a close, Tavi assessed the group’s progress.  Everything was groundwork, he thought.  No measurable progress on the Tide or the Prophecy.  He was musing about how he might speed up the process of making contact with Borders when the party was summoned by Lord Ono.  

Ono looked even more exhausted than he had before.  _Rucksacks under the eyes,_ Tavi thought.  _Not a good sign._

Nyoko offered Lord Ono a pouch of high-quality tea from the Adept house.  Ono opened the pouch and took a deep, satisfying sniff.  “Bless you,” he said, with a deep sigh, and set the tea atop a precarious mountain of papers, touching it gently as if willing it to stay in place. 

“More problems,” he said.  “There was an incident last night.  The Clerk’s office was broken into, and the files on our prisoner were ransacked.  The man is buried in paperwork and dungeons . . . but some way, somehow, *someone* knows he is here."


----------



## ellinor

*And a DM's Note*

From Fajitas:

As an example of the Skill Cascade mechanics at work, the information that Kormick obtained about Lady Mochizuki at the Inn of Teporary Respite opened up a new Skill Challenge in the Cascade: “Learn Go”.

By learning to play Go, one PC could attempt to draw the attention of Lady Mochizuki, the Head of the Ring of the Military, hopefully enticing her into challenging them to a one-on-one game that would serve as the perfect cover to secretly talk to her about going the Long Way around the Circle.  This was a multi-step challenge:  the PC engaging the challenge would first have to learn Go, and then during the games at Ehkt Rising (or to Sovereigns, "Ehkt's Judgment"), would have to *play* Go well enough to draw Lady Mochizuki’s attention…


----------



## Rughat

ellinor said:


> all she had really learned was that the Sheh was a tribe that had lived in the Ketkath, that had, with much effort by the Inquisition, ultimately been eradicated.




Waitaminute.... am I remembering the Sheh from Welcome to the Helmae?  Were they the undead behind the kingdom of skeletons thing?  (I loved the kingdom of skeletons - skeletons farming and skeletal chickens!)


----------



## Seonaid

Yay! I love this story hour!


----------



## ellinor

Thanks, Seonaid!

And ooh, Rughat, that's a great question, to which I don't know the answer.  The original inhabitants of Bountiful were a tribe of Go'nah-li (that is, Old Ones) and so was the Sheh -- but I don't know whether they were the _same_ tribe of Go'nah-li.  Somehow I suspect not -- but only Fajitas knows for sure 

Regardless, the PCs _certainly_ don't know.  Dona Giovanna was quite sparing in her descriptions of her adventures in the Ketkath.  It was pretty much bedtime stories and the occasional threat.  So we only know the broad swathes, not the details. 

As a side note, one of the broad swathes that we *do* know is the basic truth that Inquisitors=Bad Guys.  We can only imagine her apoplexy at learning from Diego that her son and daughter, their servant, and their teacher are now working for the *Inquisition* in Cauldron.  That is...if Diego told her.


----------



## Fajitas

Rughat said:


> Waitaminute.... am I remembering the Sheh from Welcome to the Helmae?  Were they the undead behind the kingdom of skeletons thing?  (I loved the kingdom of skeletons - skeletons farming and skeletal chickens!)




Ellinor is correct.  The Sheh are another tribe of the Goh'na-li.  The tribe near Bountiful was an unnamed tribe.  I will say that they are not the same tribe as the Sheh, but the story of what happened to them is a pretty common story from that time in Sovereign history.


----------



## Kuritaki

Thank you all for these wonderful Stories! I've finally caught up with reading first WttH and now A Rose. Incredibly deep and detailed, entertaining and addictive... After spending every spare minute (and some that weren't) of this last week reading like one possessed, I now have to join the legions of Halmae fans waiting for an update...


----------



## Aldene

The rose in the wind is very informative story and i have read and saved its pdf file from the shared link and read its 18 chapters.


----------



## WisdomLikeSilence

Fajitas couldn't run last weekend, so Jonrog1 kindly stepped in to DM for us.  Now, I adore Savina, but I do have to admit it was a really nice change of pace to be able to say something like

"I lean out of the chopper and lay down some ****** suppressing fire with the flamethrower."

I'm sure we'll get back to moral dilemmas and subtle political machinations soon.


----------



## coyote6

I take it that _wasn't_ Savina blazing away from the chopper? Not a crossover adventure? Dang. 

(What game system was it?)


----------



## Jenber

coyote6 said:


> I take it that _wasn't_ Savina blazing away from the chopper? Not a crossover adventure? Dang.
> 
> (What game system was it?)





Not a crossover, though it would have been spectacular to see Savina use a flamethrower.  I'll hold out hope.  

This one was Savage Worlds.


----------



## Ilex

*20x01*

Standing next to Tavi in Lord Ono's office, Kormick exhaled in a long, annoyed sigh.  "So the Tide know that we're holding one of their own in custody.  And if they gain access to our prisoner, no doubt they'll find out what we’re doing and bring that information straight back to the Mother Superior, who will then crush the entire enterprise irrevocably under the heel of her boot."

"If it's any consolation, I imagine they'll also kill the prisoner," said Ono.

"Okay… I'm trying… I think… No.  I'm not at all consoled by that."

"Nor am I," said Ono.  "I have my most trusted men guarding him and will advise them to be vigilant, but beyond that, I think we—and by 'we' I mean 'you'—must find a way to learn more about what the Tide are up to.  I can give you a few names of known Tidesmen our limited surveillance has uncovered."  He picked up a sheet.  "Let's see.  We've got Shen, chief butler to Lady Oroko Yumi, an important Peer.  Dai, an arcanist, runs The Establishment Purveying the Most Wondrous of All Crafts.  And Junichi, the innkeeper at the Inn of Agreeable Company.  I know you're all busy trying to secure meetings with the other Rings of the Circle, but keep an eye on these troublemakers.  In fact, I recommend that you try to gain the confidence of one of them."

"With your permission, I'll handle that, gentlefolk," said Arden suddenly, softly, from the back of the room.  "I can get close to them... if you'll let me do it my way."  

_DM’S NOTE: This scene, of course, unlocked a new skill challenge in the Skill Cascade: 

INFILTRATE THE TIDE
One character only may work their way inside the Tide to learn the details of their plans._​
###

*WEEK 3 | MONDAY* 

"It was a sycamore," Kormick declared.  "A murderous sycamore."

He stared impressively across the table at the two clerks from the Ring of Lands: a man, who was nodding and writing notes, and a woman, who was staring back skeptically.  Kormick was hoping that the story of his adventures in the Ketkath would give him an opening to make discreet inquiries about Lord Tanaka, the leader of Lands.

"Syc…a…more," muttered the writer, as he finished a sentence.  "Indeed.  I had an unconfirmed report of a pod of hostile hollies marauding somewhat east of there last year.  You witnessed this sycamore attack personally?"

"No, I didn't witness it personally," said Kormick.  "I was personally _bludgeoned_."

"A sycamore," said the woman, "is a deeply rooted tree.  Deeply rooted trees do not attack people.  It was undoubtedly predatory vines."

"I know a tree when I see one," said Kormick.  

"Do you."

"A tree," said Kormick, "is not a vine."

She glared at him.  Kormick glared back.

"Kormick-san spent a month in the Ketkath," the man reminded his partner, glancing between them anxiously.  "His information about the orbs, the derro, and the quickrock is all very credible.  And it was very good of him to come here to make a report on his experiences with the region's natural phenomena.”

“We don’t need his help," the woman tossed back.

"I should have gone straight to your boss," said Kormick.  "I imagine Lord Tanaka would respect an upstanding observer when he sees one."

The woman stifled a snide laugh.  

"Or… would he?" asked Kormick.

"It's simply that Lord Tanaka is very busy," said the man, clutching his pen too tightly.  "He has other things on his mind besides taking down these detailed reports."

"Other things like dancing girls and exotic mushrooms," said the woman.  "But I’m sure he'd hear you out at one of his parties if you have enough gold—"

"Hush!" begged her partner. 

_So the head of Lands is dissolute and bribe-able,_ thought Kormick. Scoring a meeting with Lord Tanaka had just gotten a lot more fun.  

"I’m surprised that such a well-regulated a city as Cauldron has dancing girls and whatnot," he said.

"Plainly you've never heard of the Eighth Ring," the woman said.  She was showing off now.  "At least that’s what they call themselves.  They’re organized crime.  Thieves and miscreants.  My friend bought a ruby necklace from them once, cheap—and it was probably _stolen_."

She sat back, arms crossed defiantly, daring him to be unimpressed.  

"Imagine that," said Kormick, well satisfied.  Lands didn't merely have a corrupt leader—the city of Cauldron had an entire criminal underworld. Suddenly, for the first time in the Sovereignty, he felt right at home.

_DM’S NOTE: This scene also unlocked a new challenge:

INFILTRATE THE EIGHTHS
Work to connect with the criminal underworld in Cauldron by joining the Eighths.

It also provided some details on one of the previously available challenges:

MEET WITH LANDS
Acquire an invitation to one of Lord Tanaka’s “Indulgence Parties” to arrange to speak with him in private._​
###

*TUESDAY*

Twiggy was taking an afternoon off from her Go lessons, at Tavi's request.  Tavi had scheduled a meeting with diplomats at Borders later in the week to discuss the incident with Mariela—hoping, of course, to make a good impression and be invited to meet with the Head of Borders, Lord Endo.  Twiggy's job today was to do some advance scouting:  to see what she could learn about Endo, and, in Tavi's words, "to remind them that there's more to the di Raprezzi family than Mariela."

Twiggy had privately thought that she was an ironic choice for such a mission.  Out loud, she had asked, "So you want me to carry a message there, or…?"

"No," Tavi had answered.  "You're a member of the family, and you know all about our teleport network.  Borders oversees international trade agreements, so all you have to do is remind them how glad they are that we've created such a network."

He hadn't seemed to think this was a big deal, but as Twiggy took a deep breath, straightened her finest cloak on her shoulders, and marched into the entryway of the Borders House, she felt the true weight of what he had said.  _Today I'm not just representing the family,_ she thought.  _Today I *am* family._

"I am Lady Chelesta of the di Raprezzis," she told the functionary at the front desk.  His eyes widened, and he quickly called another functionary, whose eyes also widened.  Twiggy squelched an urge to backpedal and explain that she was actually a _servant_ of the di Raprezzis.  

"This way, Lady Chelesta-san," said this second functionary, escorting her into an office.  "I admit, I'm surprised by your visit.  I don't see your name in our appointment books.  Under Lord Endo's leadership, I assure you, we take great care to record all appointments properly."

Twiggy translated his skeptical but polite words for Acorn:  _He's never heard of me._

More importantly, this Lord Endo likes things done properly and precisely! added Acorn. I like the sound of him.

"Oh, this is just an informal visit," Twiggy told the man, with as much cool confidence as she could muster.  "I have worked closely with our family's teleport circles—" _when I helped a daughter of the family run away from home_—"and I thought I would stop in to let you know of some small technological refinements."

The man leaned forward, pen in hand.  "When a di Raprezzi speaks of refinements in teleportation magic, of course the Ring of Borders will listen," he said.

Twiggy launched into a complicated explanation of feather placement.  She didn't think he followed every word, but by the end, he was impressed.  Her job was done.

###

*WEDNESDAY*

Mena, continuing her mission to visit all the Ehktian churches in Cauldron, pushed her way through the doors of the Questors' headquarters.  The building felt less like a temple and more like a tavern:  a fire burned on the hearth, fanged heads of the Ketkath's more exotic beasts were mounted on the stone walls, and a cluster of Questors—both Peninsular and Sovereign—were drinking rice wine at a trestle table in the center of the room.  Their heads jerked up as she entered.

Mena paused just inside the door, her hand on her sword, her flail across her back, and let her armor whisper to itself for a moment.  Distantly, she was aware that she looked impressive, which was good; inside, she felt unsettled. She was having too much fun visiting all these Ehktians. _And I wasn't put on this earth to have fun._

The burliest Questor stood up eagerly.

"What challenge do you bring, stranger?" he boomed.

"I'm Brother Spark, of the Keepers, and lately also of the Inquisition here in Cauldron. I've just come out of the Ketkath and have also recently pitted my mind and body against malefactors in Hillside District," Mena answered. "I wonder if you'd like to hear of my adventures."

A girl with spiky hair jumped to her feet, raced to a cabinet on the far wall, and withdrew a wide scroll, ink, and a quill.

"A heathen Inquisitor?" asked the burly man, as the other Questors buzzed with interest.  The man sloshed wine into a cup and shoved it into Mena's hand.  The girl raced back to the table.

"Tell us _everything_," she said breathlessly, unfurling the scroll and dipping the pen so fast that she flung a droplet of red ink, like blood, onto the surface.

The scroll was a map, dotted with red Xs.  Mena smiled in recognition—despite the voice in her head that cried, _You're a Defier now! These cannot be your friends!_—and began to tell her tale.

###

*THURSDAY*

Tavi.

Tavi stood next to Nyoko and Rose, back straight, not moving a muscle.  He wore new finery that Savina had arranged to have specially made for him in the Hennan style, as well as his ceremonial wakazashi.  He carried a small silk-wrapped package—a delicately carved _netsuke_ kimono accessory that Nyoko had helped him commission from a local artisan.

Taaaaaviiiiiiii.

They were standing opposite a stone desk where, shortly, a high-level Borders diplomat would appear.  Twiggy's suspicion that Lord Endo was an exceedingly upright man who ran an exceedingly upright Ring had been confirmed by Nyoko's subtle research among her Adept colleagues.  Lord Endo was supposed to be scrupulous, fair, determined—and utterly without a sense of humor.  In this meeting with the man's immediate subordinate, Tavi was determined to remember everything he'd learned about Sovereign etiquette.  

Taaaaaviiiiiiii, I'm booorrrred.

Phoebe was perched on his shoulder, on her very best behavior, but even at her very best, she was still a hummingbird.

Whisper is giving me that look again, Tavi.  Let me go poke Whisper.  *Please* just one little poke.

Tavi stole a glance sideways and saw his sister's familiar curled in the crook of her arm.  As far as he could tell, the pseudo-dragon was staring calmly out the room's window.

_Whisper isn't looking at you, Pheebs._

He was _so_.  At least, he was thinking about looking at me.  I think.  Anyway what does it matter?  Just one teeny tiny poke?  Oh wow are those _flowers_ outside the window?  FLOWERS, TAVI!!!

The door at the far end of the room opened and a round-faced man entered.  He bowed.  Tavi, Rose, and Nyoko bowed.  

Tavi spoke first.  "I come on behalf of my family to offer apologies for the incident involving my aunt, Mariela di Raprezzi.  The matter was an internal family affair, and we greatly appreciate your discretion in handling it as diplomatically as you did.  I believe the most honored Sensei Chiharu expressed our feelings best when she wrote, 'I, wretched and sorrowful, walk the burning ways of shame, exiled from hope, unless the one who sits resolute upon the rock extends the hand of forgiveness.'"

Tavi distinctly heard Nyoko let out the breath she'd been holding as he finished reciting the quotation.  She had coached him on that particular point in great detail, and her concern that he would misspeak had been palpable.  

The man stared at him unreadably for a moment longer—and then extended his hand.

Tavi took it solemnly.  The man bowed over their joined hands.  Tavi bowed back.

And with that, the man broke into a wide grin.  "Never have I been so pleased to be in the diplomatic corps as I am today!" he said.  "To hear Chiharu herself in the mouth of a heathen!  Beautifully declaimed, young man.  I am Hisao, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

"I bear a gift for Lord Endo," said Tavi, extending the silk-wrapped package.  "If it's possible, I would request the great honor of a meeting with him, as well, in order to reiterate how truly sorry my family is."

Hisao took the package and nodded.  "He is a man busy with many duties," he said, "but I will make sure that he receives this—and your request with it."

"I thank you."

"It is my honor."

"No, it is mine."

They bowed again.  The meeting had gone as well as Tavi could have hoped.  Peripherally, he was aware of Rose's amusement at all the foreign formality, Nyoko's pride, and—

Wheeeeeeeeee!  Bow again, Tavi!  Riding your shoulder is actually fun when you do that!  Do it again!  Bow deeper!

###

*FRIDAY*

In the dark predawn hours, wearing only the light shift she slept in, Arden slipped barefoot into a storeroom in the Inn's basement.  She had a plan for reaching out to the Tide, and the plan amused her. 

Except the first step.  The first step was not amusing.  It was going to hurt.

She glanced around the storeroom, assuring herself that she was alone.  Then she raised a fine narrow belt that she'd borrowed from Savina's collection and without giving herself a moment to hesitate, lashed it across her back.  _Not hard enough._  She struck again.  It was difficult to get the belt to land properly, and she needed this to look good.  She switched her angle slightly and tried again, and this time the belt bit into her back and stung.  Memories came with it and stung, too:  the nameless brutes in the mine, Unssa from the farm, the first time long ago in Dar Und.

There were tears in her eyes by the time she decided she'd left enough fresh marks to be convincing.  Wincing a little already and knowing that in a few hours she would be stiff with soreness, she had to smile a little at herself. _What kind of life am I living, that this strikes me as sensible?_, she thought.  _Gods, I'm a little broken, aren't I.  Just a little…_


----------



## Kuritaki

Ilex said:


> "Okay… I'm trying… I think… No.  I'm not at all consoled by that."
> 
> "I know a tree when I see one," said Kormick.
> 
> "I have worked closely with our family's teleport circles—" _when I helped a daughter of the family run away from home_—"
> 
> Mena paused just inside the door, her hand on her sword, her flail across her back, and let her armor whisper to itself for a moment.
> 
> Wheeeeeeeeee!  Bow again, Tavi!  Riding your shoulder is actually fun when you do that!  Do it again!  Bow deeper!
> 
> _What kind of life am I living, that this strikes me as sensible?_




Just great!  My first live update and it is wonderful...

Thanks for sharing this!


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

Ilex said:


> "Imagine that," said Kormick, well satisfied.  Lands didn't merely have a corrupt leader—the city of Cauldron had an entire criminal underworld. Suddenly, for the first time in the Sovereignty, he felt right at home.




Awesome!  I laughed out loud at this line.  Thanks for another great update!


----------



## Ilex

Thank you, Kuritaki and Cerebral Paladin!  It's always extra fun to hear exactly which descriptions and lines are a hit.

We're all swamped with work, so that's why updates have slowed down a little.  Lots more to come, though.


----------



## Ilex

*To Fajitas*

May Hennans name a palace for you
May Thaneans award you a medal
May Aegosians put your face on coins
May Sovereigns Affirm you
May Karonians give you gifts
May Pykosians archive your writings 
May Undians take you drinking
(and preserve your kneecaps)
May you have a wonderful birthday today and a wonderful year ahead.


----------



## coyote6

Hey, happy birthday, Fajitas!


----------



## Kuritaki

(For me the first time live!)

Happy birthday Fajitas!


----------



## Seonaid

Happy belated, Fajitas! I think we're all glad you were born.


----------



## Fajitas

Ilex said:


> May Hennans name a palace for you
> May Thaneans award you a medal
> May Aegosians put your face on coins
> May Sovereigns Affirm you
> May Karonians give you gifts
> May Pykosians archive your writings
> May Undians take you drinking
> (and preserve your kneecaps)
> May you have a wonderful birthday today and a wonderful year ahead.



Ilex, you are a beautiful, wonderful, marvelous freak of nature...

Thanks for the kind wishes, everybody!


----------



## Kuritaki

Bumping to keep you on the first page....It's been soooooo loooooong


----------



## Fajitas

We've all been a little busy lately, but you'll be happy to know I'm doing an edit on the next update as we speak.  So if it takes another two weeks for it to go up, know that it's because I'm a really, really, really, slow editor.


----------



## Ilex

Fajitas said:


> So if it takes another two weeks for it to go up, know that it's because I'm a really, really, really, slow editor.




It's now two weeks later, so it only seems fair that... 

...we have a new update...

...and more new updates to come on a roughly weekly schedule, as before...

...starting in just a couple minutes!

(And it's not that Fajitas was a really slow editor.  It's that I got swamped by the day job for a few months there. )


----------



## Ilex

*20x02*

*WEEK FOUR | MONDAY*

Nyoko was so excited that she had to concentrate to keep her footsteps sedate as she walked the short distance back from the Adept House to the Inn of Comfortable Repose.  She had urges to try out dance steps, there in the street, but she contented herself with letting her happiness manifest only in the form of demure smiles bestowed on everyone she passed.  She was, of course, an Adept.

That said, when she found the rest of the party still finishing a leisurely lunch in one of the back rooms of the Inn, she couldn't help—well—_bounding_ ever so slightly up to the table. 

"No problem," Kormick was saying. "I'll just ask around and find out who's ordering excessive amounts of booze, quail eggs, dancing girls, and those weird masks with the pointy noses.  Trust me.  I can find an indulgence party."

"I have news!" Nyoko announced.  "Lord Masa-san—you know: the Head of the Adepts—just asked me to dance the role of Sedellus at Ehkt's Judgment!  He said it's because no one else has overcome so many hardships as I have this year, which makes it fitting even though I'm not a dance specialist.  Better yet, Ono Arato has danced Rikitaru for the last three years, and everyone assumes he'll be doing it again.  Isn't it wonderful how Kettenek has favored us?"

Everyone stared at her blankly.

"I would advise you to stay well away from anything to do with Sedellus, my dear," Mena finally pronounced.

_Heathens._ Nyoko took a calming breath to settle herself.

"I was not clear," she said.  "On Ehkt's Judgment, in the evening, there is a pageant that reenacts the story of how Rikitaru pursued and executed his erring brother Ehkt.  Nearly the entire city attends. Adepts dance all the roles, except for that of Rikitaru, and Lord Masa-san has honored me with the role of Sedellus.  I'll have to work very hard if I wish to be ready in time, but I have told him I'll do it."

"Congratulations!" said Savina.  

"Yes," said Kormick, "congratulations.  I can only hope that this pageant is as fast-paced and hilarious as the Four Fathoms Roast at the Annual Trade Fair and Mass Brawl in Dar Und."

Nyoko frowned, puzzled.  "It is a religious affair," she said.  "Certainly the dancing is very elegant, very refined, but—"

Kormick waved her off.  "I kid, I kid.  I'm sure it will be very meaningful in an exhaustingly Sovereign way."  

"And a great honor for you, which is exciting.  But what do you mean about Kettenek favoring _us_? " asked Twiggy.

"Yes, this is why it is such fantastic news.  Well, one of the reasons," Nyoko said, still trying to be modest. "You see, one of the most significant parts of the pageant is the moment in which Sedellus dances with Rikitaru—and whispers in his ear."

Nyoko could almost see the wheels turning in everyone’s minds.

"_And_," she continued, "the role of Rikitaru is performed by the winner of the day's competitions—typically, the winner of the wrestling matches.  Ono Arato has crushed his opponents at wrestling for three years running and danced Rikitaru every time.  There is every reason to believe he will do so again this year.  They call him the Mountain of Kettenek."

"_The_ Ono Arato?," asked Twiggy.  "The one who's the head of the Kettenite church here in Cauldron?  He's one of the synod members we need to contact discreetly."  There was a pause, and Twiggy grinned widely.  "So five weeks from now, you’ll have an opportunity to whisper in Ono Arato’s ear."  

"Lady Nyoko-san," said Tavi, "it's truly excellent news that you'll be dancing Sedellus in the pageant this year."  

"Thank you, Signor Octavian-san," smiled Nyoko. 

*TUESDAY*

Twiggy felt Rose's elbow dig discreetly into her side.  She followed Rose's gaze toward a greasy-haired man in the corner of the crowded room.  He beckoned them with a drunken leer, nodding toward the Go board that was positioned between his spread legs.  

"…Oh Gods," swallowed Twiggy.  

Rose giggled.  "He’s like an older version of that kid in the Academy…what was his name—" 

"You’re right!  Maurizio Something…"  Twiggy gave a mock-shiver as she looked around the Go parlor, scanning the people seated on cushions with tea and gameboards for someone who looked more . . . hygienic.  

"Oh, look at Mister Modesty over there," Twiggy pointed discreetly toward a flashily dressed young man bowing a jaunty good-bye to an opponent.  "Yikes."   

"Picky, picky!" Rose laughed.  "Are you learning Go tactics, or choosing a husband?" Before Twiggy could stop her, Rose stepped up to the flamboyant young man.  His eyes widened at the sight of two heathen girls, one with gray hair and a miniature dragon on one shoulder and the other half-elven.  Rose gestured at Twiggy, eyes twinkling.  "My friend here would _love_ to play with you."

The young man raised his eyebrows flirtatiously at Twiggy.  "Oh, really?" he asked. 

"Play _Go_ with you," clarified Twiggy unnecessarily, shooting a glare at Rose and willing herself not to blush.

"Of course," said the man.  "I should warn you, ladies, I'm very good... at playing Go, I mean."  

"So's my friend," said Rose.  "You two are going to be well-matched.  I have a feeling."

"Your friend thinks she's a matchmaker, does she?" the man said to Twiggy with a wink.  He had a handsome smile and sparkling eyes.  _At least this is going to be a very different game than my matches with Ahiko-san in the library…_

She smiled back at him.  "Your move," she said.

*WEDNESDAY*

Savina had decided to find herself a chaperone: an older, single, respected Sovereign lady who could shepherd her around the city's social scene.  At home, of course, she was officially of-age and would have resented her father's insistence on such a figure, but here in the Sovereignty, where sixteen-year-olds were still considered children, a chaperone would be a mark of her gentility.  This would raise her reputation further among the peers she was hoping to impress.

She had found her perfect candidate in Lady Shiwasu, a dignified widow whose husband and children had been killed in the Ketkath.  Lady Shiwasu had been reserved when Savina first began to converse with her, as if this young heathen girl might prove to be uncouth, but Savina had persevered with polite small talk and, eventually, made her request for Lady Shiwasu's guidance.  This decorous action had, at last, won Lady Shiwasu's complete approbation.

Today, they and a few other select guests were chatting in the parlor of a lord who was newly arrived in town for the summer.  Servants circulated through the room, carrying trays of delicate dumplings and refined beverages.  Savina reached out to take a glass of plum cordial from one of the trays.  As her hand brushed the glass, the man lurched forward and red liquid splashed across Savina's bodice as the glass fell tinkling to the floor.  

"Kettenek save us!" exclaimed Lady Shiwasu.  "Napkins!  Quickly!  Sirrah, apologize to Lady Savina-san at once!"  

Savina looked up in open-mouthed surprise at the serving-man…and just for an instant, she could have sworn she saw a flash of triumphant anger in his eyes.  Then the expression vanished and the man was crouching at her feet to wipe up the spill, apologizing profusely.  Arden arrived from the other side of the room to help Savina clean up as Lady Shiwasu offered solicitous advice.  

In a moment, it was over:  a faint pink mark amid the floral pattern of Savina's dress was all that remained of the incident.  Savina knew it must be nothing—she'd never seen the serving-man before, so there was no reason for him to dislike her—but it took her a few moments to shake off the strange conviction that his gaze had been personal.  

Lady Shiwasu skillfully led the group into a discussion of the extreme difficulty of finding good help, assuring everyone that she had endured similar hardships. Savina recognized this as an attempt to spare their host's feelings, so she followed her new chaperone's lead. Lady Oroko, another guest, contributed a witty story about an incident last year in which somebody's cook had let a live chicken into a banquet hall, and soon the whole group was gossiping merrily once more.    

###

Carrying cordial-soaked napkins, Arden hurried back to her station at the parlor's periphery with Kuro, the man who'd spilled the drink.  As she walked, she let her tunic slide a little off her shoulder to show the livid edge of a whipstroke.  When they reached the small cluster of servants standing in the room's corner, Kuro murmured, "I hope your mistress doesn't take that one out on you.  After all the stuff you've told us about her, when I saw her pretending to be so sweet and innocent, I just couldn't resist."  

"If she does, it was worth it," Arden whispered, offering a little smile. 

"There's no way you could go serve somebody who isn't so cruel?  She really _owns_ you?" Kuro asked, low.  The Sovereign servants were as curious as their masters about strange heathen customs.

"Hennan law says I'm her property," Arden responded, equally softly. "Someone else could buy me, if she'd sell, but the gods know she'd drive a hard bargain."

"Does she really _worship_ Saint Alirria?" whispered Aya.  Aya was Lady Oroko's maidservant.  And Lady Oroko's butler, Shen, was a Tidesman.  Arden had been developing the story of her grievances against Savina for several days among the servants of Savina's social circle, and now the opportunity had come to see if that slow, patient groundwork would pay off.  It was very, very important that Aya go home tonight and gossip to her fellow servants about the Alirrian noblewoman's abused and disaffected slave.

"She drags me awake for dawn prayers every morning," Arden whispered back.  "And she's been teaching all your countrymen how to worship Alirria.  It's all love and healing and light with her—until she imagines I left a speck of dust on her shoe and then… so much for the goddess." Arden pretended to notice that her tunic was falling off her shoulder.  She fixed it with a visibly painful wince and spoke more boldly.  "She's a hypocrite.  She'd beat me bloody if she heard me say that, but it's the truth."  

Aya looked at Arden with wide eyes.  "How can _you_ still worship Alirria, after all that?" she asked.  

"Alirria's done nothing for _me_," Arden said, with a bitter laugh.  "But… "  She trailed off.  Strategically.  Then she looked at Aya pleadingly.  "But it's not like I have any choice, do I?"

*FRIDAY*

Tavi sat with his back straight, not moving a muscle, in another austere office in the Ring of Borders. Phoebe, perched on his shoulder, was silent: even she had sensed the absolute importance of this meeting.  Rose, Nyoko, and Twiggy were there, too, all of them nervously quiet.  If their meeting went well, in this unadorned blank room, they would win the support of Borders and be one step further around the Circle.

Across the desk from Tavi sat Lord Endo himself, a man with a thin face and severe spectacles, dressed in a kimono.  On the desk before him lay the _netsuke_ that Tavi had given him.

"I formally accept your family's apology for the impropriety of your aunt," said Lord Endo. "And I thank you for the gift. The craftsmanship is admirable."

"I thank you for honoring our family by receiving it," answered Tavi.  He'd been fairly confident that the first part of this meeting—the on-the-record part—would go well.  What came next was the real challenge.  "I must, unfortunately, now beg your indulgence for a second impropriety, this one on behalf of the Inquisition."

Lord Endo looked at him steadily, silently.  

"We have come here to give you warning of a grave matter," Tavi continued. "There are forces at work in Cauldron which would disrupt the flow of government, and we are attempting to go the long way around the Circle to stop them.  Have you heard of the Restless Tide of the One True Path?"

Lord Endo nodded, once.  "I have."  

Tavi took a deep breath and began to explain about the Tide conspiracy led by the Mother Superior.  Lord Endo's face remained stonily formal, unreadable.  When Tavi finished, Lord Endo turned to Nyoko.

"Do you stand as Witness for the Inquisition's credibility in this matter?"

"I do," Nyoko bowed.  

Lord Endo turned back to Tavi.  "What has the Ring of Borders to gain from becoming involved?" he asked.

Tavi thought fast, remembering the research that Nyoko and Twiggy had conducted on this man.  Endo was—as he appeared—utterly upright, valuing orderly systems and proper hierarchy.  "The Tide are only beginning their campaign of disorder," Tavi said.  "They have already subverted justice by attempting to frame innocents for the crime of heresy.  They will not stop there.  They will continue to disrupt law and government until they get their way."

"With your permission, my lords," Twiggy spoke up, "I would add that the Tide's agenda is specifically isolationist.  I imagine that the Mother Superior will seek especially to disrupt the independence of your Ring, Lord Endo-san, because she and her followers will wish to control or curtail all international activities."

"The Tide's agenda is displeasing," allowed Lord Endo.  "But I have seen no significant evidence of their power.  Why should I seek this fight before it finds me?"

"Because, with respect, the fight is inevitable," said Tavi.  "The earlier and more decisively we act against the Tide, the more likely it is that the Circle will remain stable and uncorrupted."

Silence fell.  A moment passed.  Lord Endo's eyebrows and lips tightened slightly as he considered.  Then:  "I will support you—on one condition," he said.  He took a deep breath.  "The governor of Cauldron's third son, Aga Aki-san, is a bumpkin and an ass.  Humiliate him publicly, and I will do this."

A DUEL!  Tavi, a duel, a duel, you can provoke him and we can have a duel!!

"That is a … fascinating and delicate request," Tavi said, swallowing his astonishment.  "We will look into it and … do our best?" 

"Splendid.  My secretary will see you out," said Lord Endo, and gestured to the door.

_DM’s NOTE: This scene unlocked a new challenge:

HUMILIATE AGA AKI-SAN
Make the third son of the governor look like an ass in public to win the support of the Ring of Borders._​*SATURDAY*

At their regular weekend meeting in the House of the Inquisition, Tavi was gratified to see that Lord Ono—for once—was pleased.  "So you have won the support of Borders," he said.

"Provisionally," said Twiggy.  Tavi heard the wariness in her voice.  None of them were quite sure what the ramifications of Lord Endo's odd request would be.

Lord Ono chuckled.  "He's not wrong about Aga-san.  You may feel confident that most of the city will share his amusement if the young man falls into some embarrassment."  

A small bell began ringing on the wall above Ono's desk.  He stared at it almost as if he didn't understand what it meant.  "That," he said slowly, "is an alarm bell.  From the dungeon where we are keeping the Tidesman Kawazu."

Tavi felt like his blood flashed into flame.  They all sprang to their feet—steel rasped as blades were drawn—"Rose, stay here," Mena said—and then they were running for the dungeon.


----------



## Seonaid

Yay! So exciting! I can't wait to read the next one.


----------



## Gideon Jones

After the last update I went back and read 'Welcome to the Halmae'. I'm done now.

Wow.

This is so much more wonderful now. Congratulations, you guys.


----------



## Ilex

*20x03*

Trusting that Rose was as safe as she could reasonably be back in Lord Ono's office, Mena felt free to take the lead as the party raced into the depths of the Inquisitorial House, toward the dungeons.

She had time to remind herself of the stakes they were facing:  the alarm in the dungeons had undoubtedly been caused by Tidesmen.  And those Tidesmen had been sent, no doubt, by the Mother Superior of Cauldron to discover if her nephew, Kawazu, was a prisoner.  If they returned to her with information that Kawazu was, indeed, being held here by the Inquisition, the Mother Superior would use her great political power to shut down the Inquisition's investigation into the Tide.  _Thus, if any intruders so much as catch sight of Kawazu,_ Mena realized, _then we cannot allow them to leave here alive_.

Somehow she managed to sigh despite running at breakneck speed, leading the party down yet another staircase.

_Just when we're having a glimmer of a good week,_ her mind whispered. _No, just when *I've* been having more fun visiting Ehktians than I have any right to, the enemy moves. *Sedellus* moves, thirsty for a blood tribute… and I must oblige her, this time, before our enemies oblige her more…_ 

Mena clattered down the last narrow stone staircase, noting in passing an arrow slit in the left-hand wall that led into the dungeon beyond.  Then the staircase turned left abruptly and the dungeon itself opened up below her:  from where she stood, the stairs marched down the right-hand wall to the floor of the room.  In the far wall was another dark door leading to an even lower level.  In the middle of the room were three pits, each containing a cage on a chain that could be raised and lowered by a system of gears on the ceiling and handles on the wall. The tops of the cages were meant to be flush with the floor, but the first cage was already nearly up and rising fast.  

Around it stood three men swathed in black, faces covered, who wheeled around to face Mena as she arrived at the top of the stairs.  A fourth black-clothed man turned the crank that raised the cage.  

Three dead guards lay on the floor nearby, their throats cut.

Mena's gaze took in all this in a heartbeat as her eyes swept the room.  In the next heartbeat, enough of the cage became visible for the four intruders and Mena to see that it was empty.  Kawazu was in one of the two remaining pits, apparently.  

In the third heartbeat, the crank-turner jumped to the handle for the next cage, two of the three figures below spread out warily, raising knives and throwing stars, and the final figure let out a battle cry and raced across the room toward Mena.

_Foolhardy boy,_ Mena thought, noticing him stumble in his enthusiasm.  She took one more step, planted herself about halfway down the staircase, and set her feet in a firm stance.  _You're not getting past me_, she resolved, allowing the dispassion of battle-focus to muffle her restless mind.  Then Foolhardy Guy was upon her, whirling his knife—and missing her in his excitement.  She hadn't even struck yet and he was already off-balance.  

Arrows sang down on the two men in the middle of the room, catching one in the arm and nicking the other on the thigh—Nyoko had taken up a position at the arrow slit above and was keeping them pinned down.  

"Pardon me, Mena!" called Tavi, and Mena didn't flinch as his whirling, flaming blade flew past her head and sliced a deep gash into poor Foolhardy, setting his clothes on fire, too. Then Arden slipped past Mena, danced past the flaming figure—who didn't even seem to see her—and stabbed him in the back.  Foolhardy staggered up the stairs away from her and onto Mena's waiting sword.  As he went limp, Mena pulled her blade free and kicked his body off the stairs.  _Exceedingly poor tactics, young man,_ she thought after him.  _You should have paid more attention to your teachers._

Unfortunately, the foolhardy one had not been alone—and his allies were far better at their jobs.  The crank-turner continued his work, raising the next cage.  A second man watched the cage intently to see what lay inside.  A third man hurled a throwing star that took Arden in the neck; Mena saw blood gush as Arden staggered, dazed, fell off the side of the stairs, and hit the stone floor.

The second cage reached the floor's level, revealing a lump of rags—no, it was a human, gaunt, dirty, limp:  Kawazu.  He raised his face feebly and croaked, "Please, Lord, let me out of this hell."  The second intruder peered at him just long enough to confirm his identity, turned, and darted for the stairs.  _If you get out, we're finished,_ Mena thought.  _Therefore, you three have just sentenced yourselves to death._

But the peering man moved with an acrobat's grace, leaping up three stairs in a bound, and coming for Mena low, under her guard, his dagger gleaming.  She sidestepped perfectly and the blade missed her, but he was past.  

Happily, Tavi was right behind Mena.  Tavi spun, swung his flaming blade again, and connected.  The man was wily, yes, but now also bleeding _and_ on fire. 

Then he met Twiggy, who cast a spell at him that caused him to bat frantically at the air around him as if attacked by an invisible hawk.  Even as the effects of the spell faded, his face kept twitching oddly, and that's when Nyoko shot him from the arrow slit above. "Shrivel up and die, dog," Mena advised him.  Her armor screamed in agreement as she raised her own sword through the flames and nearly cut his leg off.  Wily Guy collapsed, unmoving, and Mena kicked his body to the floor to join Foolhardy's.  _Two down._

The Crank Guy, his job finished, had joined forces with the other remaining assailant.  They were both moving warily toward the stairs, darting and dodging to avoid Nyoko's arrows.  As they reached the foot of the stairs, Arden stumbled to her feet—and Cranky slashed her arm and finished with a kick that knocked her back to the ground.  Mena winced sympathetically, then braced herself as Cranky weaseled up the stairs toward her.  Her eyes tracked the gleam of his dagger and she beat it aside with her sword at the last second. She hadn't yet suffered so much as a scratch.  _Maybe training with the Ehktians *hasn't* been contemptible self-indulgence_, she thought, suppressing an alarmingly cheerful giggle that suddenly threatened to bubble up.  

On the floor below, the final intruder stabbed Arden in the back—to the hilt.  It was a particularly bloodthirsty move, given that Arden was already kneeling, her eyes blank and confused.  She pitched forward to the stone floor and didn't move. "Savina!" Mena called.  She wasn't quite sure where Savina was—only Tavi and Twiggy had been on the stairs above her the last time she'd checked—but she hoped the healer was close enough to help Arden.

So now the last guy had a nickname, too.  Hateful Bloodthirsty Guy Who Hits People When They're Down glared up the stairs and moved forward to join Cranky. 

A _whoosh_ and a rush of heat came from behind and above Mena, and she saw red flames reflected in the eyes of the two assailants on the steps below her.  She knew that Twiggy must have ignited her _flaming sphere_ in the doorway above, making escape even more difficult.  Mena grinned, feeling crazier than she'd like but having no time to analyze it.  Apparently feeling similar, Bloodthirsty Guy _winked_ at her.  Then he turned and raced down the stairs, across the room, and through the dark door at the far end, disappearing down those stairs to the lower levels.


----------



## steeldragons

Ilex said:


> -snip-
> 
> A _whoosh_ and a rush of heat came from behind and above Mena, and she saw red flames reflected in the eyes of the two assailants on the steps below her.  She knew that Twiggy must have ignited her _flaming sphere_ in the doorway above, making escape even more difficult.  Mena grinned, feeling crazier than she'd like but having no time to analyze it.  Apparently feeling similar, Bloodthirsty Guy _winked_ at her.  Then he turned and raced down the stairs, across the room, and through the dark door at the far end, disappearing down those stairs to the lower levels.




GET HIM! Get the bahstahd!

Gods I do enjoy this SH. Well done, all of you.


----------



## Ilex

steeldragons said:


> GET HIM! Get the bahstahd!




Your sentiments are a remarkably accurate reflection of our sentiments at the gaming table.  

And thank you very much for the kind words!


----------



## coyote6

Ilex said:


> _If you get out, we're finished,_ Mena thought.  _Therefore, you three have just sentenced yourselves to death._




See, I was thinking "three dead guards with slit throats" had covered that territory for them already. But then, I was always a fan of old school Kettenek.


----------



## Jenber

coyote6 said:


> See, I was thinking "three dead guards with slit throats" had covered that territory for them already. But then, I was always a fan of old school Kettenek.





There's that.  But as a Defier, Mena does generally prefer to avoid actually killing people to death if there's a viable alternative.  

For the love of the gods, leave the woman a viable alternative.


----------



## Ilex

*20x04*

_Surely there's not a way out down there..._ Mena thought, as the intruder she thought of as Bloodthirsty Guy disappeared into the darkness of the lower level.

Suddenly a man-sized shape swished through the air above her.  It was Tavi.  Lofted by magic, he _flew_ above the stairs, above Cranky (who, although distracted by Nyoko’s arrows, looked suitably awestruck), and across the room to the other doorway.  Tavi landed at a run and vanished after Bloodthirsty Guy into the lower levels.

_That_ was something new. 

From near the top of the stairs, Savina prayed and cast _Consecrated Ground_: warm blue light flowed from her hands in ripples and formed a glowing area with Arden at its center.  Arden stirred, opened her eyes, took in the blue light around her, and then glared up at Savina.  "You never just let me go," she growled.  "Godsdammit.  Again and again and _again_." 

_Wise woman_, Mena thought, realizing that Arden's ingratitude was an attempt to keep her cover identity intact just in case Cranky did escape.  She trusted that Savina would realize the same thing.  To bolster Arden's effort, Mena barked back at her: "Godsdammit yourself, Arden.  Get up off the godsdamned floor and pull your godsdamned weight."  Arden staggered to her feet and tried a swipe at Cranky, who stepped aside almost disdainfully:  it was clear that, while Arden was no longer in immediate danger of death, she was still far from well. 

A blaze of flaming green light and some alarming clattering came from down the stairs where Tavi had chased Bloodthirsty.

Cranky seized the distraction to hurl a throwing star at Mena, and for the first time in this fight, Mena was hit. It was only a small poke in the scheme of things, but she felt a very strong, very _Ehktian_ feeling of annoyance.  She had been enjoying the idea that she would escape this entire fight unscathed after standing boldly in the thick of it the entire time—if that wasn't some kind of perfect accomplishment she wasn't sure what was.  Now Cranky had ruined it, and she felt very, very . . . cranky.  

_Well,_ she thought, _even if I can't have a perfect fight, I'll still bloody well have one with no loose ends._

"Ladies," she said, "let's end this man."  

Twiggy unleashed an _illusory ambush_, causing Cranky to clap a hand to his head as if in terrible pain.  Nyoko shot him in the ribs and the shoulder.  Savina sent a _lance of faith_ straight at his eyes, and Mena raised her sword and punctured him in the gut.  He turned and staggered through the far doorway, down the stairs to the lower level.

_Hmm,_ thought Mena, preparing to follow him, _I hope Tavi's on his guard_.

### 

Tavi had raced down the stairs after the particularly bloodthirsty man into a room much like the one above, except here the cages were all raised and empty—and there was no door other than the one they'd come in.  Tavi felt full of exaltation that his first flight in combat had gone so well: his new magical armor had functioned perfectly.  Phoebe, of course, was even more excited, but she contented herself with spinning loops around Tavi's head, humming enthusiastically.  

The other man wheeled, at bay, took in the sight of Tavi, his green-flaming sword, and the tiny gem-colored blur circling Tavi's head, and… grinned.  A little crazily.  Then he charged Tavi, pulling him into a grapple.  As they struggled across the floor, bodies locked together, the man's dagger plunged into the shoulder joint of Tavi's armor and deep into the flesh beneath.  As Tavi briefly lost his grip, the man dragged him sideways and slung him headlong into the pit beneath the middle cage.  Tavi plunged into the darkness and hit hard.  

Tavi!  Tavi, are you all right?!

_Fine.  Just a little more bruised than I'd ideally prefer._  Tavi glanced up and saw the man peering down at him.  _Phoebes, give me one second…_

Tavi concentrated, cast, and teleported out of the pit, landing just behind the man.

"Hello," Tavi said, and as the man turned, Tavi swung his flaming sword in a perfect arc and cut into the man's side.  The man somehow held his ground and slashed at Tavi with his dagger.  He missed.  His grin faded and he sighed audibly.  Then Tavi kicked him into the pit.  He hit hard, and the only thing still moving after that was the smoke curling up from his still-smoldering garments.  

Behind Tavi came a frantic thumping, and the last remaining intruder came leaping down the stairs.  Tavi turned, his blade flickering.

### 

Mena watched Cranky vanish into the darkness of the lower level.  There was a brief pause.  Then: _thump thump thump thump thump_.  Cranky came leaping back up the stairs, eyes wide with terror.  

Behind him came the green-flaming blade, spinning of its own accord through the air. It took Cranky's head off.

Behind the sword came Tavi.  He caught the sword as it returned to his hand and looked at the corpse before him.  "I guess we're done here," he said.  

As Savina hurried down the stairs to heal Tavi and Arden, and Twiggy extinguished her fireball from the doorway, a feeble voice asked, "Please, let me out?  Please?"  It was Kawazu, still in his cage.  He was, Mena allowed, a piteous sight: all rags and filth.  

Savina stepped closer to him.  "I—I would feel sorry for you," she said.  "I would.  Part of me does.  But you have caused so much suffering. A peasant girl died because of the heresy you promoted."  

And with that, she turned her back on the cage.  "We should lower him back down," she suggested.  

Tavi did so.  Savina, meanwhile, healed Arden fully.  As she helped Arden to her feet, Arden said, "Thank you for that, Blessed Daughter.  Sincerely."  

They went back up the stairs.

At the arrow slit, they collected Nyoko, and at a landing a few more steps up, they found Kormick slouching against the wall with a couple of guards, all laughing and taking turns pulling on a flask.  "Well fought," said Kormick, wiping his lip. "These fine gentlemen and I were lying in wait here in case any of those intruders escaped your clutches.  Truly!  We were _in no way_ merely loafing around and drinking!"

Mena lifted a skeptical eyebrow, but Kormick smiled in that disarmingly charming way of his.  "Dame Mena, Dame Mena, do I lie?  I never lie.  It was tactics.  I was keeping close tabs on the action.  Regardless of what these fellows here may or may not have given me a sip of, I would have walloped any of those malefactors had they gotten past the fearsome yet strangely attractive roadblock that was you.  Which, I observed with pleasure, they did not." 

Mena smiled.  "No, Justicar," she agreed at last, "they did not."


----------



## ellinor

*21x01*

Lord Ono rushed past Twiggy, disturbing the acrid, fetid air on his way down the stairs into the dungeon, now strewn with the bodies of the black-clad intruders.  Tidesmen, surely.  Beyond that, they knew nothing:  Who were the attackers?  Whom did they report to?  How did they know to break into the Inquisition?  What did they know?  How did they get in?

“This is not good,” Lord Ono was muttering, “not good at all.”  Twiggy couldn’t agree more.  Or—well—it could be worse.  They had prevented any of the intruders from carrying word of Kawazu’s incarceration and confession back to the Mother Superior.  And now there were several fewer Tidesmen in the world.  So…maybe a little bit good.  _Has my study of Go made me stony, unfeeling?_  Twiggy immediately rebuked herself for thinking that _any_ number of dead people was in any way good.

But . . . it _is_ good, interjected Acorn.

_That doesn’t mean I’m supposed to *think* it is,_ Twiggy retorted.

Sometimes you don’t make any sense, Chelesta, sighed Acorn, and burrowed deeper into the folds of Twiggy’s robe.

Lord Ono was pacing, examining the bodies, hunching over and then standing again, muttering to himself.  “ . . . might be familiar, but no . . . all black . . . nondescript weapons . . . nothing to go on . . . who let them in here . . . how many . . . would try _Speak with Dead,_ but that would mean using Yudai . . .”

“Excuse me,” piped up Savina, “but who or what is a _Yudai_?”

“Yudai-san is a Prime Inquisitor, and the only Inquisitor I would trust to cast _Speak with Dead_ on any of these perpetrators.  That’s the only way we’ll get any real answers.  But Yudai-san led the original Inquest into the Hillside District heresy, and I am still not certain whether . . . where his sympathies lie.”

Savina shivered a bit.  “_Speak with Dead_.  It sounds . . . gross.  But I know of Sisters who can do it, and I might be able to learn.”

Lord Ono perked up.  “Truly?  And you would be willing to try?  That would be a relief . . . or at least it couldn’t hurt . . .” he returned to his reverie and his pacing.  “Disposing of bodies.  What to do, what to do.”

“Naturally, once young Savina has questioned them, you will throw them into your rat pit,” Kormick responded.

Lord Ono paced, lost in thought.

“You . . . do have a rat pit, don’t you?”  Kormick added.

“Or maybe,” Twiggy found herself suggesting, “we should display their bodies publicly, to demonstrate how unwise it is to break into the Inquisition?  We wouldn’t need to say anything about what they  . . . did or didn’t find when they broke in.”

“Why, Lady Chelesta, I didn’t know you had it in you,” Kormick said, with a mock bow.  

Twiggy pictured the dead Tidesmen as little black stones scattered among the white stones of their Inquest, and heard Ahiko-san’s voice in her mind.  _One must play moves that heighten the value of all previous moves_.

###

*WEEK FIVE | MONDAY*

Nyoko sat crosslegged on the hard floor and watched the dance of Sedellus.  Dancers’ heads turned at precise angles; their fingers flicked in an intricate pattern like butterflies set to music.  The director, a lithe, taut man in his late 40s named Iwai, clapped in rhythm, stamping to emphasize the heaviest beats.  Nyoko had watched the dance at over a dozen Ehkt’s Judgment festivals, and yet now, up close, it seemed almost impossibly complicated.  _Almost_ impossibly complicated, Nyoko reminded herself.

Iwai stopped clapping and scowled slightly at the dancers leaving the stage before turning to Nyoko and the beefy young Adept, Shun, who would be dancing the role of Ehkt this year.  “You see?”  he asked.  “Just like that.  But cleaner,” he added, with a tiny frown at the woman who had just performed the part Nyoko was to learn.  Nyoko recognized the woman—her name was Unsuku.  She was three years older than Nyoko, and she had selected dance as her specialty when she was much younger.  She had danced the role of Sedellus in the previous year’s festival.  

“You must dance with perfection,” Iwai informed Nyoko, with a clap.  “Perfection.  You must lead the amateurs in the roles of Alirria and Rikitaru, and must also dance your own role.  No room for error,” he barked, clapping again for emphasis.  “Alirria’s role is easy,” he continued, “and thus easy to lead.  Mostly she lays about on a divan.  But Rikitaru’s role must be led precisely, and you—” he motioned at Nyoko, “are very green.  Let us begin.”  He signaled for Nyoko to stand beside him.  As Nyoko mimicked Iwai’s slow-motion movements, Unsuku swept out of the studio with a subtle, but unmistakable, jealous glare.  

It slowly dawned on Nyoko that perhaps the sloppiness in Unsuku’s example had not been due to carelessness.  It had, instead, been an intentionally flawed example.  _She’s not going to make it easy for me,_ Nyoko thought. 

###

*TUESDAY*

Kormick stood near the open door of the dance studio, watching Nyoko perform the same leap over and over.  He could not tell the difference between the leaps, but he knew that there must be some obscure Sovereign significance to the angle of the head, the curve of the toe . . . 

Nyoko, breathing heavily, came to the door.  “I would love to join you for a noon meal, Kormick-san, but Iwai-sensai insists that we complete this stanza.”  She bent at the waist and leaned on her knees, her breath beginning to return.  “He’s right.  We have a long way to go, and this is a hard part.”

“Which are the hard parts?”  Kormick asked.

“All of them,” Nyoko sighed back.  “But you came here for a reason.  What do you need?”  Nyoko signaled to the dance teacher that she’d be taking a short break, and she and Kormick retreated to a quieter corner. 

Kormick leaned in.  “I’ve been asking around a bit about finding prostitutes—investigating how one might gain access to one of those Indulgence parties—and all paths lead back to the Adepts.  With many favorable reviews, by the way.  I gather that some of the Adepts of this city specialize in erotic entertainment, and that a few of those are willing to work outside the confines of this compound here, although it’s not exactly Adept policy.”

Nyoko nodded.  “Your information is accurate.”

Kormick crossed his arms.  “So how is it, exactly, that I have been in this city for over a month, and no one got around to telling me that I’m living just blocks away from one of the places with the best sex-for-hire in the Halmae?”

“I assumed you knew.”

Kormick left the dance studio with a list of names in his notebook, a veritable catalog of Soveriegn propositioning etiquette in his head, and a smile on his face.

###

*WEDNESDAY*

Arden gave a furtive glance to the left and right and slipped her hand, softly, under the flap of Kormick’s cloak, drawing out a small leather pouch and pocketing it under her tunic.  She glanced again.  _Did anyone see?_  There weren’t many patrons at the Inn of Agreeable Company, but it wasn’t the patrons she was worried about.  It was the barman—a known Tidesman—who concerned her.  _He might have seen._

Kormick finished his drink and called the barman to the table to settle the bill.  He felt around in his pockets, and then felt around again.  “That’s my gold, missing.”  He pulled another pouch from another pocket with a conspicuous grumble.  “That had better not be you, slave.  You don’t want me talking to the authorities about you, do you?  …Or the Blessed Daughter?”

Arden gave a sullenly defiant shrug.  “I didn't do anything.  You don't have anything to tell her.”  

“Don't I?”

Arden modulated her voice, adding a touch of fear to the defiance.  “Come on, Justicar.  Please not _her_.” 

The barkeep smiled.

Outside, Arden tossed the pouch back to Kormick and he clapped her on the back.  “We make a good team,” he said.  “I think he took the bait.”

Arden's back was still sore, but she didn't care—Kormick's gesture made her smile.  Their artifice was working.  She was gradually gaining the positive attention of known Tidesmen.  But—_on a team with a Justicar.  Stealing from a Justicar.  Wanting to get caught._  She was living it, and it still barely made sense.

###

*THURSDAY*

“And the finals of last year’s Ehkt’s Judgment Trials were played on this very board?”  Twiggy mused.  She was staring at the white and black pebbles before her, barely conscious of the Adept sitting across the board.  This was their second match; the first had been a slim victory for Twiggy that seemed far too much more like luck than skill.  Now, the board was beginning to fill up, and too few of those few open spaces were good options for Twiggy.

“Yes. We Adepts study the details of that match to improve our skills.  Lady Mochizuki’s understanding of thickness, her positional judgment, her balance between overconcentration and vagueness—are truly harmonic.”

Twiggy marveled that a few weeks ago she had thought those words meant entirely different things.  Now she not only knew what each of them meant to Go players, but also why they were important.  She also knew that, although she could reliably prevail in most matches at many of the city’s Go parlors, her own skills were . . . less than harmonic.  Twiggy read the board before her, playing the next few moves in her head.  If her opponent played predictably, the match would be decided in seven, and not in Twiggy’s favor.

“I concede,” Twiggy sighed.  “Would you mind running through those moves from last year?”

###

*FRIDAY*

Tavi stood on a five-foot-square platform raised a foot off the floor, opposite his opponent—a middle-aged Keeper of the Flame wearing loose-fitting pants and no shirt.  Tavi concentrated and cast a spell that would push his opponent backward, but he couldn’t hold it.  His feet were slipping back, as if the platform were covered in oil.  Tavi stumbled, but recovered his footing.  With a flick of the wrist, he cast, and flame burst from his arms, licking at his wrists like gauntlets.  He lunged forward.

“Whoa!”  His opponent yelped, as he jumped back to avoid the flames.  “No contact!  Remember, this is _arcane_ wrestling.”

The pair hopped off the platform.  It was such a relief to spar again—a welcome break from the political intrigue—and he quite enjoyed this “arcane wrestling.”

Tavi’s sparring partner returned and handed Tavi a cup of water.  “No contact, but you should do that flame gauntlet thing at the Trials.  Lots of guys have distinctive costumes, and flaming wrists would sure make a statement.  You . . . will be arcane wrestling at the Trials, won’t you?”

Tavi chuckled.  If ever there were a sport made for him, it was arcane wrestling.  In fact, as he looked around the room, he observed that the Trials fit his family perfectly.  Rose was over by the wall, standing on a narrow ledge as practice for the endurance events; Mena was in the corner, discussing the history of Sovereign physical wrestling with another Keeper as they rested between practice bouts; Twiggy was back at the Adept House, immersing herself in Go.

“Yes—I think I’ll be competing in the arcane wrestling Trial,” he smiled.


*SATURDAY*

Savina peeked over the edge of the scroll.  The body of the leader of the Tide attackers lay at her feet, on a slab of white stone.  The room, in a dark corner of the house of the Inquisition, was dark, stone-walled, with no windows.  Savina’s throat felt tight against the close air.  Over the past several days, she had planned for this: she’d read the scroll over and over; learned the proper inflections and procedures; formulated the three questions that she would ask if the ritual worked.  When she read the ritual words, she would make the body speak.  “Like healing,” Tavi had said, but Savina knew he didn’t mean it.  The ritual would make the body speak, but could not make it live.  

This was nothing like healing. 

Savina squeezed Rose’s hand for support, and began to chant.  Her voice echoed strangely.  She was accustomed to singing outdoors, at dawn.  But she said the words . . . and nothing happened.  It was still just a dead body on the floor.  How would she know it worked?  

“Go ahead, ask the questions,” said Tavi.

Savina took a deep breath.  “Who let you in to the House of the Inquisition?”

The body’s mouth moved, but it spoke without affect or inflection, its face without expression.  “A door was left open.  I do not know who opened it.”

“Whom were you to report to, when your mission was done?”  Savina asked.

“Lord Bunjuru.”  A name Savina had never heard before.

“Identify all of the members of the Tide that you are aware of.”

The body began reciting names; Kormick wrote them down.  Savina did not even hear them as she backed away, leaned against a wall, and listened to the blood rushing in her ears.


----------



## Seonaid

I love these characters so much.


----------



## ellinor

*21x02*

*WEEK 6 | MONDAY*

Arden sat with a few other servants on a narrow bench near the entrance to the kitchen and watched Savina move among the partygoers.  Savina had found her niche, it seemed: listening to the daily crises of Cauldron’s gentlepeople.  The Blessed Daughter had even become somewhat of a matchmaker; in only a month, Savina had learned enough about the guests at this party to know which of them were single, which would be well-matched, and which would do better standing at opposite ends of a long room.  Savina flitted from guest to guest, chatting, listening, and only occasionally meeting anything but a warm response.  _How many of them,_ Arden wondered, _think she beats her slave, and how many of them don’t mind?_ 

Suddenly, Arden heard a woman’s voice just behind her head.  She turned, slightly, but turned back when she saw that the woman was already looking at her: it was Shen, the target of Arden’s subterfuge.  Shen was the chief butler of Lady Oroko Yumi, an important Peer.  Oroko Yumi was known to be sympathetic to Pantheists; in contrast, Shen was a known member of the Tide.  _If I've gotten her attention,_ Arden thought, _now I have to hold it._.  

As Shen joined her, Arden slid to make room on the bench.  “You seem to be sitting more comfortably,” Shen began.

“Should I not be sitting comfortably, ma’am?”  Arden replied.

“One hears things.”

Arden shifted her tunic.  “It is not my place to speak of sitting comfortably.”

Shen looked Arden in the face.  “How short is your leash?” she asked.  “Would you be able to go out on your own, some evening?”

“It might be possible to get away briefly…” Arden paused. “But why, ma'am?”

 “I would like to discuss some matters with you.  But some discussions are best had apart from . . . this,” the butler said, gesturing toward the party.

Arden felt a flush of success, but knew she had taken only the first of many steps toward gaining the trust of the Tide.  _If she has to work a little to persuade me, she'll believe me more._ “You have to understand,” Arden objected. “I could get in trouble.  I can't just—”

“Some risks are worth the reward,” Shen said, standing up.  “Friday night.  The Inn of Agreeable Company.”

As they walked back to the Inn of Comfortable Repose, Arden could tell:  Savina knew that some of the other gentlepeople thought ill of her—she at least suspected what Arden was up to–and her feelings were hurt.  For a moment, Arden felt bad.  But the feeling subsided.  Arden knew the real reason Savina was so upset: the girl prided herself in taking care of her possessions. 

And whatever ill effects Arden’s machinations had on Savina, they didn’t seem to harm the girl’s social status.  As Arden and Savina arrived back at the Inn of Comfortable Repose later that afternoon, a small envelope awaited them.  Arden peeked over Savina’s shoulder as she opened it.  It was the message Savina had been working towards:  an invitation from Lady Funaki Chinatsu, the head of the Peerage, to the banquet of the Peerage, to be held after the closing events of Ehkt’s Judgment.  It was addressed to “Signora Savina di Infusino and guests.”

###

*TUESDAY*

Twiggy could walk the path back to the Adepts’ library in her sleep.  At least once, she thought, she probably had.  

It was afternoon, and the courtyard of the Adept House was the eye of a storm of skilled activity.  As Twiggy strolled through, munching a rice ball, she listened.  Through rice-paper walls, she heard swordplay from one room, music from another, the rhythmic pounding of pulp into paper from a third.  A few doors down, she stopped to watch Nyoko train to dance the dance of Sedellus.  Nyoko’s body was covered with bruises, some fresh, some yellowing—but as she danced the same passage again and again, her teacher seemed—as far as Twiggy could tell—pleased.  

Twiggy was not alone in watching the dance studio.  Another young woman stared, scowled, and strode away.  Twiggy looked down and realized her rice ball was finished, and she was holding an empty leaf.

Time to return to the library, to maps of military battles, full of Xs and Os and lines and arrows.  It had seemed a good idea at the time, she thought, studying the movements of actual historical military troops to better one’s performance at a game of military simulation—but it was not enough.  “You are an excellent tactical player,” her most recent opponent had said, “but you don’t _feel_ the board.”  Twiggy sighed.  It didn’t make sense.  _Go is a game of strategy and tactics.  Where does feeling come into it?_

###

*WEDNESDAY*

Tavi leaned back on the divan in the common room of the Inn of Comfortable Repose and pressed a cold, damp cloth against his eyelids.  His head throbbed.  Phoebe hovered over his shoulder.  _Still too loud, Pheebs,_ he thought.

What?  I’m not saying anything!”  His head felt like Phoebe’s voice was trying to escape from his brain, straight through his forehead.

_Your hovering, Pheebs.  Can you . . . hover quieter?_

“Ah, yes, Tavi,” came Kormick’s voice from across the room.  Tavi opened an eye, slowly.  The room was too bright.  Kormick was smiling.  “I know just the thing.”  He ducked out of the room.

Kormick reappeared a few minutes later carrying a bowl of thick yellow soup topped with chunks of dried seafood.  It neither looked nor smelled appealing, but Tavi knew better than to doubt Kormick on the subject of hangover cures.

As Tavi ate, Kormick chatted.  “Looked into this Aga Aki character we’re supposed to embarrass.  Everyone agrees; he’s your basic upper-class twit.  Son of the Governor, puts on airs, and so on.  Cares a lot what high society thinks of him.”

Tavi nodded absently.  The soup was not as disgusting as it looked, but that was a low bar.

“In any case, the twit should be at that Peerage party on Ehkt’s Judgment, right in view of everyone.  That’s our best chance,” Kormick continued.  “And you—what did you learn in your night of tavern-hopping with the Ehktians?”

“That they take tavern-hopping as a challenge, too,” groaned Tavi.  

“And?”

“And that they have decidedly mixed feelings about Brother Soburu, the leader of the Ehktians in Cauldron,” Tavi replied.  Whether it was the soup or the compress, he was starting to feel better.  “At the beginning of the night, it was all about how Brother Soburu was an eloquent speaker and competent leader.  By the end . . . he was ‘Brother Burnout,’ who cares more about preventing controversy and keeping the Ehktians out of the limelight than about being an Ehktian.”

Kormick paused. “I know I am new to the study of comparative religion, but trying to ‘prevent controversy’ doesn’t seem particularly Ehktian.”

“No. It isn’t.”

“Well-done, kid,” Kormick chuckled and clapped Tavi on the back as he turned to leave the room.  

Tavi closed his eyes again.

###

*THURSDAY*

Mena grimaced as a sturdy Ehktian woman pushed her to the mat.  “Doesn’t it hurt?”  Twiggy had asked, innocently, the last time Mena had described her wrestling training.  _It hurts,_ Mena thought, _but I can take it._  She stood up slowly, gingerly, and when she did, a cheer went up in the room. She pointed to the largest man in the room.  “You next.”  The cheer continued.

Another man walked into the room—a slight man, too young for the graying strands in his hair.  Mena had not seen him before.  As she wrestled the behemoth, the man watched, and as the crowd applauded Mena’s ability to stand for more than a few seconds, a frown grew across the man’s face.  At the end, Mena pried herself from the mat and approached the man.  “I am Brother Spark.”

“Brother Soburu,” he replied.  “I have heard of you.  I could hardly have avoided doing so.  An Ehktian Inquisitor.  It is quite . . . noteworthy.”

_Finally_, Mena thought.  _This is what we’ve spent all that time mingling with the Ehktians for.  A chance to come to the attention of the Ehktian member of the Synod…_

“I thank you for the opportunity to challenge myself here and to train for the Trials,” Mena said.  Brother Soburu nodded, still frowning.  “I hope you are not displeased.”

“Of course not.”  He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on the scars covering her hands and arms.  “It is certainly your right to compete in the Trials.  But be aware, there have been troubles in the past.  Ehkt is not always so popular around here.  It is best not to draw attention.”

Mena looked around.  Dozens of eyes were on her.  She had, at least among the Ehktians, drawn attention.  “I understand,” she said.  

Brother Soburu left.  Mena took on her next opponent more . . . sedately.

###

*FRIDAY*

The summer sun set late.  Arden crept out of the servants’ entrance to the Inn of Comfortable Repose, unseen.  She stuck to the shadows.  Soon, she found herself at the Inn of Agreeable Company.  

Shen was there, with the barman from the previous week.  “Arden.  It is good you are here.”  They offered her a bowl of meat in a thick, sweet sauce, and she accepted.  

After some small talk, Shen became serious, her voice low.  “You can speak freely among us.  We have a great distaste for your Mistress and her godling.  We sense you share our distaste.  Were we right to seek you out?”

Arden settled her nerves.  “You know my feelings about my mistress.  As for the godlings, as you call them, I'll speak frankly.  Alirria is a hypocrite, Sedellus is a bitch, and Ehkt is a toy for spoiled rich kids.”

“You do not speak of Kettenek.”

“If it weren’t for snow,” Arden said, “I would think Kettenek had abandoned the Peninsula.  A world without justice terrifies me.”  It was not a lie—none of it was—although her meaning was different from theirs.

“We seek a world of justice,” the barman said, “one step at a time. We could use someone like you, with eyes in this cadre of saint-worshippers.”

“If I helped you,” Arden asked, “could you protect me?”

“Your position has value to us.  We would do all we could.”

“And you really believe there’s hope of justice in the world?”  Arden asked, her voice quiet.

“Come with me,” said Shen, and Arden did.  They walked to an alley and sat in darkness for a time.  Then a door opened.  Shen pointed to it.  “Inside that door is a den of Sedellus.  They call it a temple.”  She spat.  “They make great profit from gambling.”  

A fat man walked out, carrying a fat purse.  Shen nudged Arden.  Arden knew what Shen  wanted:  a dead gambler in an alley; a ruined symbol of Sedellus.  But Shen didn’t have to know that Arden had figured that out. “You’re asking me to steal his purse?”  Arden asked, in her most innocent whisper.

“I am asking you to apply misfortune to the fortunate,” Shen replied, her voice cold.

Arden scanned the fat man’s face carefully and committed it to memory.  Then she crept along the wall at a silent run, following the fat man.  She darted out, knife at the ready, and lunged forward.  Knife met purse-strings, and the bag fell.  With a quick hand, Arden grasped it and disappeared again into the shadows.  The man was poorer, and none the wiser.  

Arden put a proud grin on her face, returned, and held out the purse for Shen to take.  The purse was, as Arden suspected, not what Shen had been hoping for.  But after a flicker of disappointment, Shen nodded, took the bag, it and tucked it into her robe. “There is more we can do.”  Shen reached back into her robe.  

Arden held her breath.  When Shen withdrew her hand, it did not hold a knife, as Arden feared—it held a few pieces of gold.  “Enjoy yourself with that,” Shen said, dropping the coins into Arden’s hand.  “Quietly.”


----------



## ellinor

*21x03*

*WEEK 7 | MONDAY*

After Dawn prayers, Savina returned to her bedroom, opened the screen, and watched the day turn from pink to blue as the sun began to bathe the crater city.  Two months here, and she had become part of Cauldron’s high society; she would soon meet Lady Funaki Chinatsu, the head of the Peerage.  Savina had already learned what she needed to know:  that Lady Funaki was an excellent host, with strict etiquette, who placed a high value on social structure.  She liked, as one of Savina’s new friends had put it, being a big fish.

Talking with Lady Funaki would be easy—but everything else here was so hard.  Savina stared outside.  To the East, across the sea, was Pol Henna.  Two months here, and Pol Henna seemed so very far away: there, she had Father to deal with politics, a cohort of Givers to do the healing, and a butler to quash nasty rumors among the slaves.  

As Savina crossed the courtyard for breakfast, she overheard Kormick’s voice beyond the screen of the common room.  “Just stealing some gold, then?”  he chuckled.  “I had a bet with young Tavi that they’d ask you to kill Savina.”  

“The week’s just beginning, Justicar,” Arden replied. “You haven’t lost yet.”  She paused.  “What they’ve asked already is bad enough. I told Shen that there was a big fight in the dungeons, and that all of you have had secret meetings with the Inquisition—but I don’t know how long I can keep on with nothing but vague information and revolutionary talk.  I think we're running out of time.  They said they have ‘plans’ in motion.  The whole thing makes me sick inside.”

Savina thought it was the longest statement she’d ever heard Arden make.  Moreover, despite the worry she was expressing, Arden sounded more confident than Savina had ever heard her sound – just one concerned adult talking to others.

“Whatever you can get from them is helpful,” came Mena’s voice, in a rare friendly tone.

Savina opened the screen.  “Arden.”

“Blessed Daughter?” Arden's face, as she turned to Savina and dropped a curtsy, was all bland subservience.  

“I . . . I just want to know that you’re all right,” Savina said.  There was no easy way to say that she knew about the rumors Arden was spreading, and that it hurt, and that she trusted Arden all the same.  This would have to do.

“Thank you, Blessed Daughter, I’m well.”

“Is . . . can I do anything to help?”  Savina asked.  

“I couldn’t drag you in any further,” replied Arden, “but I would ask a favor.  The Tide asked me to steal some gold from a man, and I did.  I’d like to repay him.  I’m carrying your gold, Blessed Daughter; could I use some of it for this?”

Savina felt a wave of relief.  “Yes, Arden, by all means.”

###

*TUESDAY*

Mena awoke and did a few push-ups to clear her head.  Her talk with Brother Soburu had, she mused, confirmed what she suspected:  that only ill could come of her enjoying herself with a bunch of Ehktians.  And now that she’d met with the Ehktian Synod member, she didn’t have to spend any more time with Ehktians she liked.  But the responsibility did fall to her to spend time with a group of Ehktians with whom she had less affinity, and therefore less potential for enjoyment – the Extinguishers of the Flame.  

Intellectually, the mission of the Extinguishers of the Flame made sense: like the Defiers’ mandate that evil exists so it can be eradicated, the Snuffers (as they endearingly called themselves) held that challenge exists to be eliminated.  What greater challenge could there be, they hypothesized, than the elimination of all challenge?  _It makes intellectual sense, sure, but not *common* sense._  The Snuffers busied themselves by running spas, meditating, and acting as a volunteer fire brigade. _Spas.  About the least Ehktian things I can think of,_ Mena thought.  

But that’s where she was headed.  Savina had recounted what the socialites had said:  in Cauldron, the Extinguishers of the Flame took care of some of the healing duties that would, on the Peninsula, be carried out by Givers.  If they were going to find any underground Alirrians in Cauldron, the temple of the Snuffers was as good a place to look as any.

A heavyset man with a ponytail met Mena at the door to the temple.  “Welcome,” he intoned, and led her to a room filled with soft cushions.  A woman playing the harp in the corner looked up and smiled.  Mena resisted the urge to growl.  “You look . . . stressed,” the man said.  “Can I interest you in our sauna, or a hot stone massage?”

“I tweaked my shoulder wrestling,” Mena replied, truthfully, and poked at the front of her shoulder with her fingers.  “Is there someone here who can take a look at it?”

He led her back to an area that looked like a more traditional sports-healing clinic, with folks on benches receiving massage, compresses, and basic bandaging.  As one of the Snuffers stretched Mena’s shoulder and applied a warming ointment, she observed the others.  To anyone else, it wouldn’t have been obvious, but Savina told her what to look for:  A couple of the Snuffers weren’t just wrapping up injuries; they were praying.

###

*WEDNESDAY*

Tavi came down to breakfast as Kormick and the others were finishing their own.  “Kormick!” Tavi said, “Are you interested in joining me today?  There’s nothing on the social calendar, so I thought I might try to intimidate a few of the known Tidesmen.  Nothing major, just hang around their bars and such to make them nervous about the eye of the Inquisition.”

Kormick thought, once again, how Tavi had a spark of the Undian in him.  “Can’t, Tavi—not today—but perhaps Dame Philomena would lend you some menacing, yet oddly alluring, assistance.”  

Mena pursed her lips, but held back whatever biting retort she surely had prepared. “Kormick, what has you occupied today?”

“I’ve decided to do some research on the prophecy.  I had a dream about my sister last night.  It’s inspired me to go down to the Adepts’ library and see if there are any records there about the Alirrians in this region that might help us understand the symbols in the prophecy.”

“Tried.  Nothing there,” Twiggy mumbled.  She had her nose deep in a book about Go.

“Justicar, you have a sister?” asked Savina, her innocent eyes inquiring.

Kormick realized that, until now, Twiggy was the only one who had asked him about his family; she must have assumed his story was confidential and kept it to herself.  The others had been waiting for him to volunteer.  It seemed the time was ripe to explain.  

“My sister, Elizabette, was six years older than me.  You remind me of her, Savina; she was kind, and helpful, and wanted to be a priestess of Alirria.  Right after King Lucas was established as the leader of Dar Und, a group of the old Bosses plotted to kill him at a meeting in my father’s bar, where Elizabette worked.  She saw what they were doing . . . she saved the King’s life, but lost her own.”  

Savina’s eyes were wide.  “How old were you?”

“Eleven,” Kormick replied.  “That was the day I learned I had magic.  King Lucas sent me to the di Raprezzi’s Academy to learn to use it.  Turned out, magic wasn’t my strong suit.”  

“That must have been terrible for you,” Savina continued, her voice comforting.  

“Oh, it was fine,” Kormick deliberately shifted the subject.  “My father taught me to kill—but Signor di Raprezzi taught me to _think._  I returned to Dar Und an agent of the King.”

“No, the death of your sister.  It must have been terrible,” Savina pressed.

“It was . . . unspeakably bad.”  Kormick paused.  “For a time I had an ill-conceived need for vengeance.  But . . . I saw Elizabette’s face in the Spring, you know.  She is still looking after me.  Now I know that the justice of Kettenek and the mercy of Alirria will establish law in Dar Und.  Vengeance is not for myself, it is for the Law.  The murderers will not escape punishment.”

Everyone was quiet.  Mena and Arden each looked deep in thought; Nyoko swallowed hard.  Kormick knew that Nyoko, too, had witnessed the death of family members, and had not seen the killers brought to justice.  

That was enough quiet.  “So last night, I dreamt about my sister, and I knew I had to research the prophecy.”

Nyoko blinked hard.  “If, as Twiggy-san says, the Adepts have no records touching on Alirrian symbology, you might want to check the archives of the Inquisition.  See if there’s anything else on the ravings of that madwoman.”

Six hours later, Kormick’s hindquarters hurt from sitting on the archive’s benches.  _How does Twiggy manage to do this all day?_ he thought.  But he had some information.  

The madwoman was a member of the Sheh, which was a tribe of Old Ones.  The Sheh tribe lived mostly deep in the Ketkath, west of Divine Mark.  Apparently, the Sheh considered themselves guardians; the madwoman said something about ‘guarding you for generations’ . . . So the Sheh might have something to do with the ‘guarding tower’ in the prophecy.  

But if the Sheh had anything to do with the prophecy, it wasn’t going to be easy finding out what.  The Sovereigns had eradicated the Sheh—nearly erased them from history—decades ago.

###

*THURSDAY*

“Aha!”  Iwai-sensai clapped sharply and uttered the first syllable of praise Nyoko had heard in three weeks of grueling practice.  “You see?”  He continued.  “You listen to your body, and you hear the steps.”

Nyoko wasn’t sure what that meant.  Much of the time she wasn’t sure what Iwai-sensei meant, but she _had_ been listening to her body.  For the first two weeks, her body offered mostly complaints.  Now, it had something productive to contribute to the conversation.  She could feel the energy move up through her arms to her fingers as they articulated the dance’s mannered flicks; she knew how hard she could push her ankles before they would collapse; she could sense the spring in her thighs, coiled, ready for dips and leaps.  Finally, she thought, she knew more than just the steps of the dance; she knew how they were supposed to feel in her body as she did them.  

Nyoko had also become accustomed to the side-eyed looks of rivals.  Today it wasn’t just looks; Nyoko deftly dodged as Unsuku, the more seasoned dancer who’d first demonstrated the dance of Sedellus, tried to trip her in the locker room.  The trip attempt was done with all the finesse and subtlety of an Adept, but it was unmistakeable—and if it was meant to discourage Nyoko, it didn’t work.  _Let her try,_ Nyoko thought.  _I’m the one dancing in the pageant._

###

*FRIDAY*

Twiggy stared at her dinner.  She wasn’t hungry.  The bits of dark meat arranged themselves in her bowl of rice like black stones surrounded by white.  The meat had lost that match, she thought, as she sank her chin in her hands.  She took a bite, turning the meat’s position on one edge of the bowl from _dead_ to _unsettled._ 

Twiggy closed her eyes.  The last two months blended together.  Go, sleep, eat, Go . . . and not much sleep, at that.  She had played hundreds of matches; studied histories of the game and its trends; studied the writings of great strategists and tacticians; memorized countless move sequences and learned when not to use them; learned the language of the game.  But in two days, Twiggy was expected not only to play well—something she felt she could do—but to play better than people who had been playing for a lifetime, to gain the attention of the head of the Ring of the Military, to _impress_ her somehow . . . _how naive I was, taking on this task._  Twiggy had seen it as an opportunity to do something important, for once.  A chance to experience the life she might have been born to, to be with the people she might have been with.  To make a difference in the world from the top, rather than chipping away at it from the bottom.  

Now—her mind was an empty 19x19 board, impossibly large, its permutations impossibly numerous.  She rubbed her tired eyes.  Spots appeared; black and white dots, whirling and swimming like the orbs in the Ketkath.  

Twiggy leaned back in her chair, and watched the spots move.  There was a rhythm to them, she realized.  At the Academy, her teachers had taught her a form of hypnosis, allowing her to feel the energy patterns of magic and to align herself with it.  One needed to feel the patterns of the energy to cast well; merely knowing placements and incantations was not enough.  She pressed her hands against her eyes again, slowed her breathing, and felt it, the energy of the spots in her mind as they danced with each other in time to her heartbeat.  Gradually, they aligned with each other, first in the patterns of known sequences, then in new patterns she did not know.  They were alive in her mind; like the familiar energies of magic, the stones knew where to be even if she did not know where to place them.  

At last, in some small way, Twiggy knew what it meant to _feel_ the game.  She could play a lifetime and still have more to learn—but as much as she could be, she was ready. 

###

*SATURDAY*

Midnight.  Rose heard the ringing of the bells, idly rolled over in her bed, and let her eyes flutter open.  After seven weeks in Cauldron, Rose usually no longer took note of the Kettenite bells, no longer thought it strange that the whole city woke at midnight.

As she stared at the ceiling, Rose realized that this night’s bells signified something different.  Something Ehktian, in its way.  In the morning, it would be Ehkt Ascendant—Ehkt’s Judgment, by Sovereign reckoning.

_Today,_ Rose thought, as she closed her eyes and dozed back to sleep, _is going to be a day full of challenges._


----------



## Kuritaki

ellinor said:


> *WEEK 7 | *“I had a bet with young Tavi that they’d ask you to kill Savina.”
> “The week’s just beginning, Justicar,” Arden replied. “You haven’t lost yet.”



I love it! Great!


----------



## Seonaid

ellinor said:


> The bits of dark meat arranged themselves in her bowl of rice like black stones surrounded by white.  The meat had lost that match, she thought, as she sank her chin in her hands.



Awesome!


----------



## ellinor

*22x01*

*Ehkt Ascendant*

Wind whistled through the bell tower of the Priesthood, carrying the echoes of the bells at the close of midnight services on the eve of Ehkt’s Judgment.  Below, through an aura of highly repressed excitement, activity bustled as arenas and viewing stands arose across the city of Cauldron.  Through the night, the city transformed.  

*ROSE*

Savina woke Rose before dawn.  Rose had requested she do so, to allow Twiggy time to prepare herself for the Go tournament.  And Savina was up anyway  “You’re really competing in the Trials?” Savina asked, as Rose began to dress in the dark.  “I’m proud of you—truly—but no one will think any less if you just watch.  I won’t be competing,” Savina pointed out.

“I want to,” Rose smiled. “The endurance events are a historical hallmark of the Trials and, as Dame Mena would say, I _have_ trained for it…” Rose quirked a deadpan eyebrow.  “Few are as accustomed to waiting patiently as I am.” 

“Good for you,” Savina replied.

After her prayers, Savina and Arden walked down toward the city’s center.  There, Rose and about three dozen others were already posed above the sulfurous lake, each occupying a small platform.  Their feet balanced on narrow ledges; their hands grasped handholds.  Rose looked uncomfortable, but steady, her toes jammed firmly into the footholds, her arms softly balancing against the handholds, her knees slightly bent.

A small crowd stood by the lakeside, watching quietly.  Tavi was among them, pressed against the railing, his face a combination of concern and pride.

Savina slid beside him.  “She’s doing well,” Tavi whispered.  

As the rest of the city was waking, men dressed in oilcloth waded into the water, climbed onto the platforms and pulled one foothold from each competitor’s wall.  Several competitors lost their footing and dropped immediately.  Rose, visibly gritting her teeth, maintained focus.  

Savina wanted to cheer—but no one was cheering.  In Pol Henna, Ehkt Ascendant was a boisterous affair; Savina had been warned that the Trials were more sedate than an ordinary sporting event, but she hadn’t imagined they would be so eerily silent.

“Stay strong, Rose!”  she whispered.  Tavi smiled.

By about 10 a.m., the field had narrowed considerably, but Rose remained.  Savina was thrilled—not only that Rose was performing well, but also that Rose was competing at all.  Ever since the group had left Pol Henna, Rose had refrained from decision-making, according to plan.  But in turning over her life to the others so completely, Savina feared, Rose had stopped looking for her own joy.  Savina knew the prophecy was serious, and knew that Rose was right to be concerned about her fate.  _But that shouldn’t stop her from having a little fun once in a while,_ Savina thought.  

Soon thereafter, the men in oilcloth returned.  Without ceremony, they pulled the second footrest from each platform.  Rose held on for a few moments, hanging from her hands with arms bent . . . then she lowered herself to a straight-armed position . . . her wrists trembled . . . and then her fingers gave way.  She dropped into the water and waded to shore, stopping to look back at the 15 competitors still remaining.  Tavi and Savina rushed to her side.  Tavi wrapped a cloak over her shoulders.  “Well done,” Savina said.

“I suppose I’ve done more of that ‘waiting patiently’ while standing on my feet than hanging from my arms,” Rose smiled, squeezing water from her silvery hair.

###

*MENA AND KORMICK*

Mena donned her wrestling gear after breakfast.  Wearing wrestling gear outside the hall of the Keepers felt a bit like going out in one’s underwear:  the outfit consisted of a sturdy loincloth on the bottom and, for women, a tight wrap on the top.  It was practical for wrestling—in this style of wrestling it was customary to grasp an opponent’s garb for leverage and stability, and these outfits allowed for freedom of movement while staying secure.  _Good for wrestling,_ she thought, as she threw a cloak over her shoulders for the walk to the venue, _but a bit ridiculous._ 

Or so she thought until she arrived at the common room of the Inn of Comfortable Repose, where Kormick was waiting for her, similarly attired.  He was all confidence as he leaned against the wall, one thumb hitched in the waistband of his loincloth.  _Maybe not so ridiculous, after all_.

“I gather you’re wrestling in the Trials today?” she asked.  

“Thought I’d give it a go,” Kormick responded with a smile, “if only just to watch you.”

The wrestling venue was a large outdoor enclosure near the walls of the city.  Seven wrestling circles were each surrounded by viewing areas where spectators had already begun to gather.  Dozens of wrestlers surrounded a stern official, who distributed a ranking sheet and explained the format: the tournament would proceed on a single-elimination basis.  Matches would take place simultaneously until the field was winnowed to 8 competitors, at which point all matches would take place in the center ring.  Competitors were free to watch each other’s matches, as long as they were ready and present for their own.

Mena looked at the ranking sheet.  At the top, as expected, was Brother Ono Arato.  Below him was a sea of names she did not recognize.  She and Kormick were both in the lower half of the list.  She had a match in the very first heat.

After the customary bows and formalities, Mena wasted no time in pushing her first opponent out of the ring.  It was a good start, she thought.  She strolled over to Kormick’s first match.  He looked out of place, with his blond hair and his street-fighter stance.  He barely knew the sequence of bows and nods that opened a match.  But once it began, he held his own.  Kormick pushed, his opponent pushed . . . and Kormick hooked his opponent’s arm, twisting it and spinning the young man to the floor just outside the circle. 

Kormick was breathing heavily as he left the ring.  “That is harder than it looks,” Kormick gulped.  

As they waited for their next matches, they watched one of Brother Ono’s bouts.  His moves were precise and efficient, and he brought down his opponent effortlessly.  It was a relief:  there could be little doubt that he would prevail in the tournament, and would therefore play the role of Rikitaru in the dance, giving Nyoko the opportunity to whisper in his ear.  “Good to know we won’t have to fix the tournament,” Kormick said.

Mena’s second opponent was a woman whose slight build matched Mena’s.  The match was harder than her first, but Mena had defeated more difficult opponents at the hall of the Keepers.  When she’d won, she found Kormick again. He was already in the ring, bowing to a man nearly twice his size.  In one fluid movement, the giant hulking mass of a man bowed, nodded, thrust his hip forward, THWAM straightarmed Kormick to the floor outside the circle, stepped back, bowed, and left the ring.  The whole ordeal took five seconds.  

Kormick lay stunned on the ground outside the ring.  “All part of my cunning plan,” he gasped, “to get injured early, so I could go to the first aid tent and try to talk . . . to . . . secret . . . Alirrians.”  Mena helped him to his feet and they staggered off toward the healers through the still-silent crowd.

###

At the Inn, Kormick changed back into his street clothes, stuffed his Inquisitorial robe into a bag, and hurried out.   He was eager to alert Savina to the possible Alirrians among the healers at the wrestling venue—but even more than that, he suspected something odd was going on at the wrestling trials.  He couldn’t put his finger on what was odd, exactly, but he had seen runners going coming and going from the venue, carrying what could only be betting slips . . . 

At that moment, Savina, Arden, and a _very wet_ Rose arrived at the Inn.  

“Savina!  Just the thing,” he said.  “I have met some folks you might find interesting, at the wrestling trials.  They patched me up.  To be sure, I do not know much about Alirrian traditions, but some of them sounded very much like you sound.  And you—Arden—I need you.  Come with me.”

Arden shrugged a questioning look at Savina, who nodded, and Arden stepped back outside the door.  “Whatever you need, Justicar.”

“We are on our way to the bookmakers’,” he grinned, and together they trotted through quiet alleys toward the temple of Sedellus.

###

It took a few moments for Arden’s eyes and ears to adjust:  the Sedellan temple was dark and louder than any of the Trial venues, as announcers called odds on upcoming matches and people rushed to tables with their wagers.  Arden heard Tavi’s name; according to the announcer, he had won an early match.  

Just inside the door, Arden spotted the man whose purse she had cut the week before.  Arden pulled out a pouch of gold pieces, pulled up her hood, stepped beside the man, and, with a deft stumble, fell into him.  With apologies, she slid the pouch between the folds of his kimono and spun away into the crowd before he could even see her face.  From a distance, she watched as the man’s hand flew to his chest and he drew out the pouch.  He looked around, surprised eyes searching for his benefactor.  He would not find her.

###

“Here’s what I need you to do,” Kormick told Arden as they reached a corner of the room.  “Take this”—he handed her a few gold pieces—“and wager it on Tavi for his next arcane match.  And while you’re up there, listen closely for the bets the others are making on the physical wrestling.”

The only way to figure out what was going on at the wrestling venue, Kormick knew, was to come to the only place he could see all the matches at once:  the betting parlor.  He approached one of the betting tables.  “Five gold on Dame Philomena in the next physical wrestling match,” he offered to the young man.  

“Oh, another Ehktian, are you?” the young man replied, with a knowing smile.

Gradually, Kormick got the gist of the room’s conversations: Brother Ono was heavily favored, and most bets were on him.  A few Ehktians were betting on Dame Mena.  _Who else is betting against Brother Ono, and who do they want to win?_ 

Arden returned from the other side of the room.  “I’m hearing a handful of very large-sum bets for someone named ‘Kiyari’—at least I think that’s the name—” 

Arden handed Kormick 30 gold pieces.  A more-than-respectable return on an investigatory wager, Kormick thought.

But the point was the investigation, not the wager.  Kiyari was the brute who had thrown Kormick to the ground so easily.  He was a large man, and a strong one, but not as skilled a wrestler as Brother Ono.  In a fair fight, Ono would win.  A gambler might believe otherwise, Kormick supposed, but that did not resolve the nagging question in Kormick’s mind.  Ten more minutes of eavesdropping revealed that Kiyari worked as an enforcer for the Eighths. Not exactly a popular man, then.  Why would so many people bet on him?  Did they have inside information?  Were the Eighths fixing the tournament against Brother Ono?  If they were, that spelled disaster for their plan to whisper to Brother Ono in the Pageant . . .

Kormick had a hunch, but he couldn’t confirm it.  For that, he’d need to watch the action.  He collected his winnings and signaled to Arden, and the two ran together back to the wrestling stadium.

###

Mena was having a crisis of faith. 

She’d bested four opponents.  Three were easy.  The fourth required skill and tactics; when her opponent finally went down, the crowd had whooped and clapped.  A mass of Ehktians chanted “Brother Spark! Brother Spark!”  It was the loudest thing she’d heard all day. 

It made her nervous.  Not because Brother Soburu had warned her against being too conspicuous—although he had—but because it was _fun_.  And Mena knew that fun was dangerous.  Fun had a way of crowding out the guilt—the guilt that had made Mena pledge her life to fighting evil.  For the last month, she had rationalized that wrestling was a part of that fight.  But if it was fun, how could it be?  

As the officials led her to the center ring for her next match, Mena’s mind was clouded with doubt.  The other rings were closed now; all eyes were on her.  The Ehktians in the crowd maintained their low, steady chant.  “Spark. Spark. Spark. Spark.”

There, before her, stood Kiyari, seven feet tall and as wide as a house.  He adjusted his loincloth.  Mena tried to clear her mind.

They bowed and nodded.  He moved in.  Mena ducked under his arm and got purchase on his leg.  He thrust his hip forward.  She lost her footing, but recovered.  She came at him again.  It was like pushing on a wall.  But she managed to hook his knee, destabilizing him.  He adjusted his loincloth.  All of a sudden, Mena slipped, fell backward, and landed on her rear.  It wasn’t over yet; he hadn’t pinned her or pushed her out . . .

Mena struggled to recover.  As she scrambled, her mind calmed and everything slowed.  

She could see Kiyari looming over her, coming down, ready for the pin.  

She could feel the ring, slippery beneath her.  Something was wrong; she couldn’t grip the floor.  Kiyari wiggled his hip.  The floor became slicker—as if Kiyari was doing something to make it so…using something…something hidden in his loincloth…

She heard a commotion in the crowd.  A man in Inquisitorial robes plowed forward, shoving people out of the way—it was Kormick.  He raised a warhammer to point at Kiyari and boomed:

“PERFIDY!”

And Mena did what might have been the first truly lucid thing she’d done in a month.  She reached up toward the descending figure above her, grasped both sides of his loincloth, and pulled it off.


----------



## spyscribe

Oh yay!  This session was SO much fun!


----------



## SolitonMan

Great write up!    This is a truly excellent read, thanks for sharing and please keep it going!!


----------



## RedTonic

...Was he... Peeing?!


----------



## Rughat

RedTonic said:


> ...Was he... Peeing?!




No no no.  Nothing so crass!  He was obviously using something inside his loincloth to make Mena more lubricated, and which made her want to rip off his clothing.

I'm betting it's a magic wand.


----------



## Jenber

Rughat said:


> No no no.  Nothing so crass!  He was obviously using something inside his loincloth to make Mena more lubricated, and which made her want to rip off his clothing.
> 
> I'm betting it's a magic wand.





It was absolutely the most logical thing to do at the time.  Do you have a way to expose a cheater that is more efficient than pulling off his underdrawers?


----------



## Rughat

Jenber said:


> It was absolutely the most logical thing to do at the time.  Do you have a way to expose a cheater that is more efficient than pulling off his underdrawers?




Oh, it makes total sense.  And you probably saved his life!  After all, once he was exposed (no pun intended) as a liar, those pants were going to burst into flames, right?


----------



## Fajitas

Rughat said:


> Oh, it makes total sense.  And you probably saved his life!  After all, once he was exposed (no pun intended) as a liar, those pants were going to burst into flames, right?




A Sovereign liar's pants do not catch on fire.  They become filled with rocks.


----------



## The_Warlock

Fajitas said:


> A Sovereign liar's pants do not catch on fire.  They become filled with rocks.




Really? I would think Kettenek's Justice would freeze them right off like a Polar Bear with an Icelance spell.


----------



## ellinor

*22x02*

“Kiyari’s down!” —Kiyari’s naked!”

“Perfidy?”  “It means malfeasance.”  “—cheating! It means cheating!  Kiyari was cheating!” 

A cacaphony of voices surrounded Mena as she struggled to sit up.  

Kormick pushed his way into the ring.  Brother Soburu was hot on his heels, followed immediately by a tournament official and an Adept.

“I’ll show you what I mean,” Kormick announced to the official.  Kormick pointed at Kiyari.  “Get up.” Kiyari scrambled to his feet—and immediately slipped and fell again, as if a carpet had been pulled out from under him.  “There,” Kormick pronounced, “you see, he has done something to the ring.  It is a plot to fix the matches.  He wins by cheating, and his cronies bet on his matches and make out like bandits.”

Mena jumped in as Kormick helped her to her feet.  “Whatever’s making it slippery—it’s in his pants.  He controls it by adjusting his loincloth or moving his hips.”  She handed the loincloth to the Adept, who examined it thoroughly.  There was a fine, sandy substance sewn into the hem along the bottom, with small apertures in the hem where it could be dispensed.  

“A gambling scheme,” the official huffed, “at the Trials!  This shall not stand.  Dame Philomena-san, you shall of course advance to the next round.  Kiyari-san shall be disqualified.  And detained,” he added, indicating that Kormick should take custody of the prisoner.  The ring cleared, and the official and several others busied themselves sweeping the ring free of its slick coating.

Mena retired to the competitors’ tent to prepare for her next match, where she’d face Brother Ono.  Brother Ono sat alone in the corner, legs crossed, apparently meditating.  He opened his eyes when Mena approached.  “Brother Ono-san, I must apologize for that commotion—” Mena began.  

“It was a commotion of justice,” Brother Ono cut in, “and no apology is necessary.  When justice is served we all benefit.”  He paused.  “I shall request that the Inquisition begin an Inquest into Kiyari’s heretical actions tomorrow,” he continued, “assuming the Mother Superior agrees.”

_A gambling scheme involving fixed matches.  He’s right, that may be a Sedellan heresy,_ Mena thought.  _But the real question is who’s pulling Kiyari’s strings._

A few minutes later, Mena and Brother Ono entered the ring for their match.  Mena slowed her breathing, bowed, and gave it her all.  For minutes—it felt like hours—she and Ono were locked in a tight shoulder-hold, circling and staring into each other’s eyes.  One would flinch; then the other; they would back away and then clinch and circle again.  Finally, Brother Ono surged forward, pushing Mena into a stumble.  She ducked, retreated, regained her footing, and plowed, shoulder-first, into his midsection.  She could hear the crowd roar as Ono was forced back.  But then he planted his feet, leaned in, and stopped, still inside the circle.  

And then something strange happened.

It was as if Mena could hear Brother Ono’s voice in her head, reciting the same words over and over:  _I am the rock, and the rock does not move.  I am the rock, and the rock does not move._

Mena could hear Brother Ono’s voice in _her_ head.  

But voice or no voice, he was, in fact, not moving.  Mena ducked again and dove again, this time going for his leg.  She grasped it, and twisted, and he reversed the grab, pushing her down… _I am the rock and the rock does not move…_ shoving her out of the ring . . . Brother Ono had won.  But it had been a good match.

Two rounds later, Brother Ono had, as expected, won the tournament.  “It was the only way to prevent a greater evil,” Mena commented, as they watched Brother Ono’s solemn bows to dignitaries and trophy-bearers, “but I still can’t believe I _pantsed_ a man.”

“Like us,” Kormick replied, wrapping Mena’s cloak around her shoulders, “it was a little bit of chaos and a little bit of justice.”

###

*TAVI*

As the sun reached its peak in the sky, Tavi arrived at the arcane wrestling venue.  From the competitors’ tent, Tavi could see across the lake, where a small handful of individuals remained on the endurance platforms.  Some of those seasoned few might be there until sunset, hanging by two arms and then by one.  Rose, Savina, and Arden had gone back to the Inn, where Rose would clean up.  

As the names of the first competitors were called, Tavi realized:  he was the only heathen in the tent.  It made him feel . . . conspicuous.  Nervous, even.  At first, learning arcane wrestling had been a lark, just another way of sparring.  He even remembered having thought, “Here’s this thing I can compete in, sure, I’ll try it, what’s the harm”—but now, looking around the tent, he realized that he needed to do well in the Trials.  The party needed the help of the Inquisition to gain access to the Lord High Regent, who might be the “dying king” mentioned in the prophecy.  And to secure the help of the Inquisition, they needed to continue working the long way around the circle.  If Tavi embarrassed himself today, everything would be that much harder.  

A loud voice boomed into the tent:  “Signor Octavian di Raprezzi.”

Tavi arrived at the edge of the lake with a spindly woman about his age.  Together, they walked across a narrow plank to a five-foot platform atop a tower over the water.  Officials removed the plank, leaving Tavi and the woman alone on the tower.  The silent crowds lining the shore seemed very far away.  From the corner of his eye, Tavi could see Rose, arriving in the back. 

Tavi and the young woman bowed to each other and waited.  An official said “Begin.”

_If I’m going to be conspicuous, I might as well be interesting._  Tavi ignited his arms like gauntlets, as his sparring partner had recommended.  The crowd let out a soft “ooh.”  Tavi focused his mind and, using arcane force, pushed against the young woman.  Immediately, she stumbled, but pushed back.  Tavi felt his footing slip, but he returned the shove.  The young woman flew off the tower and landed in the water.

Tavi’s second and third rounds went nearly as quickly.  In the stands, Rose beamed.  Whee! On to the next one, Phoebe cheered.  

By the time Tavi’s name was called for the fourth round, there were only seven others in the tent with him.  He was matched with the oldest of these, a wizened old woman with long hair.  For a moment, Tavi felt uncomfortable about fighting an old woman—but then the match began.  Immediately, Tavi began to feel as if he were being pulled backward by a thousand hands tugging on his arms and neck.  Tavi stumbled.  He focused his mind on her left leg, pushing up from her toes, trying to twist her body . . . he could barely breathe through the pressure on his neck.  He began to slide backward.  But just before Tavi reached the edge of the platform, the woman’s foot gave way and her whole body spun off the tower and into the water.  There was a quiet hum from the crowd.  It had been a good match.

The sun was low in the sky when Tavi’s name was called for the semifinal.  He walked out to the platform with a boy of about twelve.  The tops of the boy’s fuzzy hair reached almost to Tavi’s waist.  He was cute, with chubby cheeks, like one of the novice students at the Academy just learning to wield an orb.  _How did a kid like this make it so far in the tournament?_  Tavi thought.  But then a short bow; the word “begin”; and a blast of force landed against Tavi’s chest like a boulder falling from a cliff.  Tavi was helpless against it.  In seconds, he fell backward and rolled off the tower.  

_Time to make another impression,_ Tavi thought.  Just before hitting the water, Tavi teleported, blinking back into sight at the edge of the lake.  He bowed to the boy, and then to the audience.  Another soft “ooh” rippled through the crowd.  

Rose met him in the stands, where they watched the last two matches.  Remarkably, the boy beat everyone.  

“I suppose it’s good to know I was beaten by the winner,” Tavi commented.

“And considering that today is an Ehktian holiday nearly everywhere else in the world,” Rose pointed out with a smile, “you certainly brought some fire to the proceedings.” 

*NYOKO*

Although the pageant would not start until after sundown, Nyoko’s preparations began in the morning, with physical therapy and massage at the Adept house.   Throughout the day, Nyoko practiced lightly while solicitous helpers stretched her muscles and Iwai-sensai paced in and out of the room with reminders and advice.

“Remember,” he said, popping his head in the room after lunch, “after the third turn, you must tilt your head before accelerating.”

“I remember,” Nyoko replied.  His reminders were small, Nyoko thought, more to comfort himself than anything else.  But some of the helpers and adepts who pattered in and out of the dance studio—Nyoko could tell they had doubts about her performance.  Wanted her to fail, even.  _Friends of Unsuku, no doubt,_ she thought.  When Unsuku herself swept into the room, Nyoko was gracious:  “I could never have learned this without you.”

Unsuku nodded a polite, tight-lipped thanks, and swept back out. 

By the afternoon, when the helpers began applying her makeup and styling her hair, Nyoko was desperately ready to go—to dance.  But time ticked slowly.

Suddenly, a young Adept rushed into the dressing room.  “Nyoko-san!  You must come see!  In the courtyard!”  Nyoko threw a hooded robe over her half-done makeup and stood to follow him.

“What? What’s happening?”

“It’s the Go tournament.  You—you have to see it to believe it.”


----------



## ellinor

*22x03*

*TWIGGY*

Twiggy awoke before dawn.  It felt strange not to awaken Rose—but Rose had released her from that responsibility for the day.  Dressing alone, in the dark, Twiggy felt the weight of the day and the solitary nature of her responsibility as heavily as ever.

_Go is a game of psychology as well as strategy.  One must use all tools at one’s disposal to gain an advantage over one’s opponent,_ Twiggy told herself, as she donned traditional Hennan garb for the first time in months.  It had taken a couple of tries for the Sovereign tailors to get the cut right, but the Hennan style in rich Sovereign silks was quite striking.  She then sat down and began braiding her hair in the Elven style.  Normally, Twiggy wore her hair loose, with a single braid in the front that, in Elven reckoning, said “Little Branch"—but traditional Elves’ braids told their whole life story in braiding, knotting, and beading.  Twiggy had learned from her father, and from books, and by the time the sun rose, an Elf beholding her would know that before him stood Chelesta Little Branch Rossi, who was alive 18 years; worked in service to the House di Raprezzi of Pol Henna and the Inquisition of Cauldron; was a graduate of the di Raprezzi Academy for Arcane Studies; faced and shared in the defeat of Lurx of the Derro; and explored the wonders and terrors of the Ketkath.

Twiggy examined her handiwork.  _It might get me noticed,_ she thought, _but only my playing can get me a spot across the board from Lady Mochizuki._

For the Go tournament, the courtyards of the Adept house had been transformed into a stadium of sorts.  Dozens of boards were set up outdoors among the trees and sculptures.  As the competitors gathered, an official explained the tournament point system for wins, losses, and stalemates.  Twiggy tried to calm the vibration inside her belly and throat.  

Brush off that cushion before sitting down, Acorn urged as the players took their places for the first round.  

_Thanks for being yourself, Acorn_, Twiggy thought in response.  _I was afraid you were going to act like Mena and tell me I’d trained for this._

I was, Acorn replied, but then the cushion was dusty.

Across the board sat a husky woman with gray-streaked hair.  Twiggy focused her mind on the game.  Their play was quite even, but Twiggy could see further ahead.  As Acorn paced nervously back and forth across Twiggy’s lap, Twiggy lured the woman into playing her stones in a vulnerable position.  

Twiggy realized she’d been holding her breath, and released it.  That had been hard—and it was only the first round.

The second round was easier:  a bookish man, using well-known patterns to try to force a stalemate.  Once Twiggy recognized the man’s strategy, it was easy to force him into a corner.  In the third round, Twiggy faced a retired merchant.  They were neck and neck throughout; each move had a counter.  It was close enough that a few people gathered to watch.  But in the end, Twiggy made just a few unpredictable moves—and like that, the merchant had lost.  Even the merchant was surprised, and cried out:  “You have me! She has me!  Amazing!”  

That got people’s attention.

Twiggy’s fourth round had an audience.  Her opponent appeared to be a nobleman, from his dress; he wore a prominent symbol of Kettenek around his neck, although it did not belong to a sect Twiggy recognized.  The man dove in with a strong offense, but he had no balance to his play, and Twiggy had momentum.  It was her most decisive win yet.

The next round was the semifinal.  Twiggy breathed deep, using meditation techniques Nyoko had shown her, and searched in her head for dignified thoughts about testing her intellect.  All she could come up with was _Eeeeeee!  I’m in the semifinal!!!!  Is this my life?_

Her opponent was an older man, with spectacles on the end of his nose.  He was, Twiggy noticed, the first person she’d seen in the tournament who seemed to be having _fun._  As they began their game, he giggled and smiled to himself, and chattered on about past Go matches, no doubt played before Twiggy was born.  _Past Go matches._  As the board began to fill, Twiggy noticed something:  They were recreating, move for move, one of the great historical matches.  It was played at these very Trials, in fact, decades ago.  She knew the match . . . and she knew that the man with the spectacles was playing the role of the winner.  Twiggy struggled to avoid hinting that she knew what was happening, and kept playing, kept the man giggling, and reached deep into her mind for a moment at which she could diverge from the historical game.  It came, at last, when the board was too full for comfort—but Twiggy knew she had a chance.  The man grinned and placed his stones aggressively, trying to box Twiggy into a corner, but he had been toying with her for too long.  The move had worked—Twiggy had won.

Twiggy had won!  The courtyard erupted in chatter.  The honorable Heathen would advance to the finals against the most honorable Lady Mochizuki!  It was unheard-of; Adepts streamed outside to watch the match; the courtyard, once so filled with players, now filled with spectators.  Twiggy could see her friends in a bunch in the crowd—all of them.  Even Nyoko, who still needed to prepare for her nighttime performance, had managed to come to the courtyard.  

The crowd stirred as Lady Mochizuki—tall, dignified, hair the color of steel—walked out to the courtyard and made her way to the central Go board.  She nodded to the crowd in recognition before sitting down, and instantly, all grew quiet.  Suddenly, it was as if she and Twiggy were the only people in the world.  

With another quiet nod, Lady Mochizuki acknowledged Twiggy and focused on the board between them.  Her posture was steady, but not rigid.  Her face was serious, but not stern.  _She plays an intellectual game,_ Twiggy reminded herself of Lady Mochizuki’s reputation.  _Tactical, calm, and flexible.  She likes opponents who make her respond in interesting ways._

Lady Mochizuki took an early lead, as Twiggy gave up several _ko_ fights in rapid succession.  _She’s testing me,_ thought Twiggy, _and I will be temperate._  Then Twiggy went on the offensive, building several contested territories on the board.  She knew she could juggle multiple life-and-death challenges on a single board at once—and although she was forced to sacrifice one of the territories, she maintained her perspective on the board.  As they neared the end of the game, the board was controlled chaos, and had the look of a closer match than Twiggy knew it to be.  Twiggy could not win—but she protected her stones like a commander who would not leave a man behind.  When she bowed to Lady Mochizuki at the close of the match, Twiggy knew, she could be proud of her play.

“Lady Chelesta-san,” Lady Mochizuki said, as they stood from their cushions, “your play would have bested most players.”

Twiggy beamed inside.

“The match posed the greatest of intellectual challenges, and was truly a pleasure,” Lady Mochizuki continued.  “Should you wish a rematch, I am at your disposal.  Do be in touch.”

And in that moment, as she realized she had attained her goal of a private meeting with the head of the Ring of the Military, Twiggy almost cried.

###

*KORMICK*

Kormick's day was getting better and better.  First, he’d had a chance to enact justice _and_ see Dame Mena at her very (most intimidating) best.  Now, he’d discovered a unique opportunity to make contact with the Eighths.  There was a boy—scruffy, and a little jumpy—who had watched each of Kiyari’s matches.  Kormick knew what a runner for a criminal organization looked like—and this boy was one.  After seeing Dame Mena off at the close of the final match, Kormick grabbed the boy’s collar.

“What’s your name, kid?”

The boy thrust his chin out defiantly.  “Aoki.”

“Aoki,” said Kormick, “I know you work for the Eighths.  I’m going to need you to tell me the name of the leader of the Eighths in Cauldron.”  

Aoki paused for a moment, just long enough to weigh his options.  “Daisuki,” he replied.  

“Good lad, Aoki,” said Kormick, and clapped him on the back.  “Now, Aoki, you’re going to take me to Daisuki.”

The kid knew better than to disagree.  He led the way to a tavern.  A faded sign outside read “The Inn of Generous Portions.” 

As soon as Kormick walked in, he felt right at home.  He knew where each dagger was hidden and where each guard sat, intermingled with afternoon drunkards.  And he knew exactly which one was Daisuki.  He was the burly man, with long black hair and small eyes, who radiated power.

Kormick strode up to Daisuki’s table.  Two bodyguards stood up as Daisuki raised his eyes to this new arrival.  Without saying a word, Kormick calmly removed his warhammers and his Justicar holy symbol and laid them on the table.  He removed his Inquisitorial robe and folded it neatly on top of them.  Then he grabbed a chair, spun it backward, and sat down.  “Now we may speak.”

Daisuki stared.

“One of your men was found cheating at the wrestling Trials today,” Kormick said.  “I apprehended him.  But that’s beside the point right now.  I am not from around here.  In addition to being a Justicar and deputized Inquisitor, I am also a representative of my King, tasked with meeting the people who make things happen here.  You are such a person.  I hope that this is the first of many meetings.  The next time I see you, know that it will *not* be as an Inquisitor.”

With that, Kormick stood up, righted his chair, collected his belongings, and left.  Daisuki still hadn’t said a word—but all he’d needed to do was hear, and he’d done that.


###

*NYOKO*

Nyoko arrived at the performance hall at the same time as the young man who would play the role of Ehkt.  _He looks more nervous than I feel,_ she observed.

“My makeup artist suggested that I picture all of them in their underwear,” Nyoko told him, as they took their starting positions behind the closed curtains, “but I think that would do more harm than good.  I’d just crack up laughing.”

The young man didn’t seem comforted.  “One of my heathen friends told me a saying,” Nyoko continued.  “‘Fear is the whetstone of the sword of intent.’”

The other dancer raised his eyebrow.

“I don’t get it either,” Nyoko replied.  The other dancer laughed.  

Nyoko was glad to see him relax a little, but her own mind was racing for a different reason.  The time had come for her to deliver the group’s message to Brother Ono.  With only seconds to whisper in his ear, her words must be attention-grabbing yet succinct.  And when they had mingled at the Go matches, Dame Mena had given her a particularly specific suggestion…

The curtain opened.

Outside was a full stadium of people, seated on risers.  Hundreds of them.  Thousands.  Nyoko's friends were there, along with everyone from the Adept house, anyone of any importance in Cauldron . . . Nyoko’s stomach fluttered, but she caught herself.  The Mother Superior was on stage, speaking solemnly about the day’s accomplishments and the importance of discipline.  The crowd was silent, listening.  

It was a stark reminder that they were still a long way from exposing the Mother Superior as the secret leader of the Tide in Cauldron.  

But they’d have their chance to take one small step this evening:  The Mother Superior announced that the closing pageant honored the competitor who most exemplified the day’s virtues of stalwart spirit and enduring strength, Brother Ono.  

She handed Brother Ono the headdress of Rikitaru.  

The performance began.  Overall, it was very staid choreography; a stylized recounting of the creation myth.  Rikitaru’s movements were, as advertised, strong and stalwart; Alirria was, for most of the performance, recumbent on a divan.  Ehkt, as required, moved with broad, impulsive strokes.  The one exception was Sedellus—Nyoko—who flitted among them, eddying and twirling, tempting them to misdeeds.

At the climax of the story, as Rikitaru wept, Sedellus whispered in his ear and handed him a cup of wine, as choreographed.  But what she said was not choreographed at all:

“I am the rock, and the rock does not move.  We will stand with you, but we must speak in private.”

Brother Ono almost spilled the wine.


----------



## redcat

*Wonderful!*

I came across your story hour from StevenAC's pdfs and all I can say is... What a masterful tale! I love the setting! Congratulations to all of you, and thanks for sharing it with us.


----------



## Ilex

*23x01*

Wind flickered the torches that lined the city streets as the pageant ended and the audience spilled out of the theater, chattering about Brother Ono's heroic stature and the Adept Nyoko's grace.  Next, on this long summer night of Ehkt's Judgment, families and friends would gather for dinner parties that would last until dawn.   

It was past Savina's usual bedtime, and yet the most important part of _her_ day was yet to come.  With the pageant over and first contact successfully made with Brother Ono, nothing now remained to distract her from her two goals, both nerve-wracking.  First, at the Peerage's most important dinner party, for which she had worked weeks to gain an invitation, she must now secretly persuade the head of the Peerage to join their cause.  As if that weren't enough, this was also the best chance to humiliate Aga Aki-san publicly, the task they must perform to win the support of Borders.  Twiggy had proposed a plan to do just that.  It was a good plan, if everything went well, but it required Savina to be deceptive, and she wasn't sure she'd be good at that.  Worse, Twiggy had given some credit to Arden for the initial idea, and Savina was sure her father would frown upon her humiliating a fellow noble with a slave's prank.  

But duty called.  Surely he would understand that much.  

To Savina's chagrin, as she got dressed for dinner back at the Inn, Arden spotted her nerves.  "It'll be easy, Blessed Daughter.  You won't even need to act," Arden said, kneeling to place silk-embroidered slippers at Savina's feet. "I imagine this Aga Aki will _actually_ annoy you."  

"Fresh water for the washbasin, Arden," Savina said, as distantly as she could manage.  Arden nodded and whisked away at once, leaving Savina in peace to select jewelry. 

"Can we bring weapons to this shindig?" she heard Kormick holler down the hall.

"I'll wear a dress if I must," Mena called back, "but I'm not going without a sword."  

Then Tavi's voice, off-handedly puzzled:  "Twiggy, I thought you bought yourself a new dress, like Rose."

"I did, but – I assume I'm going to this party as a subordinate, so it wouldn't be appropriate—" 

"You're a member of House di Raprezzi.  Why not dress like one?"

Forty-five minutes later, their carriage entered the long curving drive of the estate of Lady Funaki Chinatsu, head of the Ring of Peerage.  The estate was high on the outer ring of Cauldron's crater city, a sign of the power, riches, and longevity of the noble family that owned it.  The main house, framed by balanced clusters of straight-trunked trees, was not _quite_ as large as the entire Adept House, but it was close. The grounds were manicured, the torches burned with delicately scented and colored flames, and well-groomed servants swarmed among the glittering guests.

Savina lost herself for a moment in the refined beauty of the scene and—to her mild surprise—a little real pride as she saw her own companions handed down from the carriage.  The di Raprezzis, especially, were elegant in their traditional Hennan court garb.  

Savina smoothed her flattering Sovereign-style skirts:  she had elected to compliment her hosts by taking her chaperone's advice on local fashion.  Mena, Kormick, and Arden wore more subdued clothing: in order to gain admission to the party, Mena and Kormick were humbling themselves to the status of "attendants" on the di Raprezzis.  _Not quite a lie_, Savina reflected. _After all, they *are* employees._

A footman took their names at the door and announced them to the crowd within.  Nyoko caught their eyes from across the room, no doubt checking to make sure they were bowing properly, as she'd taught them.  

They swept through the receiving line and found themselves bowing to Lady Funaki herself.  "Signor Octavian," she greeted Tavi, pronouncing the foreign name with care.  Tavi greeted her in the name of his family.  Next was Savina's turn: Lady Funaki smiled and said, "Ah, one of the most surprising and spoken-about young ladies of the summer.  I look forward to learning more about you."  

Her curiosity was, indeed, evident as her eyes discreetly took in Savina's dress and hair.  Savina answered, "It is a pleasure to spend a few months in your fair city, in such elegant and civilized company."  Then the line swept on.  Soon, a chime rang for dinner.  Savina willed her pounding heart to settle.  _I don't have to do anything until after dinner,_ she reminded herself firmly.  _And dinner is twenty-nine courses long._ 

### 

Dinner was served at a long, low table, with the guests sitting on silk cushions.  Lady Funaki had spaced her heathen guests out among the Sovereign dignitaries, who were—in their soft-spoken way—eager to acquaint themselves further with the exotic foreigners.  Personal servants stood along the perimeter of the room, out of the way of the servingpeople carrying dishes to and fro, but each within reach of his or her particular charge.  Arden found herself standing several feet behind Savina and only one Sovereign servant away from Kormick, who was continuing to "attend" Tavi.  

Arden knew it'd be hours before she and her fellow servants got to eat, but as the first course—some kind of cold, fishy lump resting on a frilly leaf—arrived, she decided that she wasn't going to have much trouble with temptation at this meal.  Maybe the fishy lump was delicious.  Maybe not.  _But give me sweet corn and ale over that any day_, Arden thought.  And then: _uh oh.  *Now* I'm hungry._

She shot a glance at Kormick, who was already shifting with impatience.  He caught her look and sidled around behind the servant between them to mutter in her ear.  

"_How_ many courses are there?"

"May Kettenek's strength be with us both," Arden whispered back, deadpan. 

"That's what I was afraid of.  Hoo-kay.  Here's the plan.  While we stand here, we identify as many young ladies who appear to be single as possible.  Once the dancing starts, we funnel them _all_ at Tavi.  The exertion will do him good."

Arden hiccupped to contain her laughter.  She didn't dare look too comfortable.  Even here, in case any Tidesmen were present, she needed to maintain her public persona as Savina's horribly abused slave.  But that didn't mean she couldn't allow herself _any_ fun.

"Done," she agreed.  Kormick stepped back to his proper place and the second course appeared.

The elegant formality of the room was stifling:  the conversation was all lilts and murmurs, trills and poetry.  But Savina seemed at home in this glittering sea; she shone, radiating interest, compassion, and sociability.  Arden struggled to remember to jump as if terrified at her polite requests.  Savina's hand rose in the most delicate of gestures and Arden raced to supply her with the rosewater bowl to clean her fingers, then turned back to the row of servants and tried to let her eyes burn with resentment.  _How convincing can I hope to be?_ she wondered.  

By the seventh course, she noticed a well-dressed Sovereign servant across the room watching her with a frank, understanding expression on his face.  Maybe her act was working, after all.  He caught her eyes and Arden didn't see pity—she saw comprehension and support.  To pass the time, she began studying him and his master. Their interactions seemed comfortable, even friendly.  _He's not abused,_ Arden concluded, wondering why he seemed so understanding.  She liked his face.  She hoped he wasn't a Tidesman.

Sometime during course number twelve, after fumbling Tavi's napkin, Kormick leaned over again.  "If I had to stand behind these people all the time, I'd be a murder slave, too," he growled.  Arden risked a low chuckle.  The servant between them _hemmed_ disapprovingly and shot a glare at Kormick.  In response, Kormick flashed his dagger and asked the servant with his eyes, "wanna make trouble?"  The servant's eyes widened and he drew himself up stiffly.  He didn't look scared.  He looked like only the distastefulness of making a scene was preventing him from slugging Kormick in the face. 

As the courses dragged on, Arden could tell she wasn't the only member of their group fighting exhaustion.  It wasn't just that they'd had a long day, it was that the meal itself was endless and tiring--an Ehktian endurance challenge in its own right.  

Course twenty-one, however, woke everyone up.  It consisted of perfectly square plates each containing one large, staring, quivering eyeball.  _From a deer?_ Arden wondered.  She wasn't sure.  But from the smattering of "ooh"s and light applause, Arden guessed that this was a much-prized Sovereign delicacy.  And from the way Savina's back stiffened, Arden guessed that all the girl's diplomatic skill wasn't going to get her past this. 

At the far end of the long room, Arden glimpsed Nyoko pointedly exclaiming over the dish, raising the eyeball neatly between two chopsticks, and sliding it down her throat with a single motion.  She was trying to demonstrate how the deed ought to be done.  Tavi attempted to mimic her, and Arden could have sworn she even saw Twiggy attempting to cast some minor spell in Tavi's direction to enhance his effort, but it was all for naught:  there was an unseemly, gooshy noise as the eyeball entered Tavi's lips, and his face looked exactly as it had looked in the stench of the derro caves.  He didn't seem able to swallow.

Meanwhile, Savina cast Arden a subtly pleading look.  Arden stepped forward and, as Savina fluttered a fan in front of her face with graceful flamboyance, Arden palmed the eyeball.  She stepped back.

Tavi still looked like a choking man, but Kormick lunged in with a towel to dab awkwardly at Tavi's face.  From the way he held the towel as he stepped back, Arden assumed the towel now contained the remains of the eyeball.

"I did work in a bar once," Kormick muttered.

Without further incident, the courses marched onward.  At last, at five in the morning, their host arose.  It was time for the dancing.  

In the crowded ballroom, as the music began, Arden and Kormick went to work, politely approaching young women "on Signor Octavian's behalf" and asking them for a dance.  Tavi was as mobbed as he'd been on the very first night of their quest, at the ball in Rose's honor.  Mena, figuring out what they were up to, shrugged and, with a twinkle in her eye, said, "He's trained for this."

Twiggy was caught in an intense Go-related conversation with a cockily handsome young man.  As Arden slid past in the background, she saw Rose skillfully step in, seize Twiggy's hand, and rescue her, whispering, "All anyone asked about at dinner was you!"  

Twiggy grinned.

Arden linked up with Kormick on the far side of the room, near Nyoko, just as an extravagantly dressed man enfolded the Adept with a robed arm.  Arden and Kormick both overheard the words "Tanaka" and "Seven-fold Secrets" and saw the blush that swept over Nyoko's face.  Kormick sidled closer;  Arden followed.  The man was offering a proposition to Nyoko, asking if she knew how to dance "The Dance of the Seven-Fold Secrets" and if she would be willing to perform it for Lord Tanaka, the Head of Lands. Kormick flashed Nyoko a thumbs-up and a big grin.  Presumably this would gain her access to one of Tanaka's famous indulgence parties and, thus, to the Lord himself.  Nyoko grimaced, nodded, and told the man, "I would be delighted."  Her face didn't look delighted.  Arden trusted that Nyoko had not just agreed to prostitute herself—Nyoko had explained that she did not specialize in such arts—but clearly the dance wasn't exactly for _public_ performance, either.

Arden left Kormick firing enthusiastic questions at Nyoko and headed on around the perimeter of the room.  Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm and tugged her behind a column.  Looking up, Arden found herself staring into the face of the Sovereign servant she had made eye contact with during dinner.  

_Damn, he's a Tidesman after all,_ was Arden's first, paranoid thought, as she read his furtive expression.  _I wish he weren't._  She _really_ liked his face, and up close…

He pressed a pair of gloves into her hands and leaned in to whisper in her ear.  "I was once in your position," he murmured.  "Abused, uncared-for.  These are magic, and they helped.  I don't need them now.  I hope they'll help you."  

Arden looked up into his dark eyes.  _Not a Tidesman, then._  She swallowed back a swelling oceanic urge to kiss him and, instead, gripped the gloves more tightly.  "I'll make good use of them," she said.

"Glad to hear it," he said, and with a flashing smile, he vanished into the crowd.  

She might have stayed behind the column longer, musing over the things she wasn't allowed, or didn't allow herself, but there was a stir nearby.  A boisterous man strode into the room with a retinue of followers.  He held a rice wine cup unsteadily in his hand, and even _Arden_ could tell that the sash on his robe was tied incorrectly.  

Aga Aki-san had arrived.


----------



## Kuritaki

Ilex said:


> "Hoo-kay.  Here's the plan.  While we stand here, we identify as many young ladies who appear to be single as possible.  Once the dancing starts, we funnel them _all_ at Tavi.  The exertion will do him good."



 Brilliant! I love this story and Kormick and Arden are my favorites.


----------



## RedTonic

Oh my--I wonder what the gloves do! This was a pretty interesting scene.


----------



## Ilex

Thanks, RedTonic!  (And I like your avatar!)

The gloves are level 7 Feinting Gloves.  Arden remains very fond of them.  More important to her, she enjoyed having such a supportive encounter with a stranger, equal to equal.  In her world, strangers are (almost) never allies.  

Now, whether that's because she's paranoid or because she's realistic, I'll let you decide.

In more mundane terms, we can say that Fajitas devised a particularly poignant (to my character) way to hand me a new magic item!


----------



## Ilex

PS to Kuritaki and Neurotic: the day Kormick and Arden open a "This Soup 'n' Salad Totally Won't Kill You!" fast food joint is a day to either rejoice or flee.

And now to post the next update...


----------



## Ilex

*23x02*

Can I do it now? Now? Now? Now? Now? Now? Now? Now? Now?

"You seem distracted," murmured the raven-haired woman Tavi was dancing with, offering a little pout.

"Forgive me," Tavi said.  

Now? Now? Now?

_Phoebe, *stoppit*!_

"Oh!" the woman cooed as the hummingbird – who had been zooming around Tavi's head in such a fast, tight loop that Tavi suspected he looked like he had a blurry halo – landed on Tavi's shoulder. "What a darling tiny bird!"

"You would think so." With a supreme effort of will, Tavi unclenched his teeth.

The music spun to a stop.  Tavi bowed farewell to the woman and looked desperately around the room.  When was Aga Aki-san going to go where they needed him to be?  They had waited long enough just for him to arrive.  The next step shouldn’t be the hard part …

Um, Tavi? Just one teeny little question?

_Fine, one question._

…Now?

"Thank the Gods," Tavi breathed, as he caught Nyoko's eye and followed her meaningful gaze to where Savina was receiving the attentions of the obviously oafish Sovereign.  Aga Aka-san had taken the bait, at last.  

A feathered hair ornament loomed up in front of Tavi, interrupting his view.  "Signor Octavian," said the woman beneath it, "I understand you have sought my hand for the next dance?"

"Um, of course."  _Where are all these women *coming* from?_ "One moment, Signora… Signora-san…" Tavi scanned the room's perimeter and spotted the other key player in this upcoming little drama: Lord Endo, the austere Head of Borders.  Tavi strode over to him and bowed his head.  Lord Endo gave a faint nod in return.  

"Lord Endo-san,” Tavi began, “not long ago, you honored me by asking for a favor." Tavi glanced slightly toward Aki-san, who appeared to be asking Savina to dance.  "I thought you would like to know that my friends and I plan to do you that service imminently."

Tavi thought he caught a flash of interest in Lord Endo's narrow, solemn face, but it might have been only candlelight on the man's glasses.  Lord Endo nodded again.  "Very well," he said.

Tavi glimpsed the feathered hair ornament bobbing in his direction through the crowd.  

Now?  Now?  Now?—

_—Soon!  Fly high, above the crowd, would you?  Make yourself inconspicuous._

Tavi and the hair ornament were reunited just as the orchestra struck up again.  They swirled onto the floor.  Halfway across the room, Savina and Aki-san were dancing, too.  Tavi peered past the feathers and saw Twiggy's eyes closed and her lips moving as she cast a spell.

Tavi sensed the surge of Twiggy's arcane magic pulse through the room to the tiny quivering bird above them.  He risked a glance.  Phoebe was gone—invisible.  

_Pheebs?  Guess what?_

NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There was a rush of air as she whizzed over Tavi’s head, too small for anyone else to notice. 

The room danced on.  

"Isn't Signora Savina lovely?" boomed Kormick's voice above the music.  The Justicar was gesturing expansively toward Savina and Aki-san.  "A beautiful young woman, and she moves with such grace!  Look at her!" Heads turned; faces smiled at Savina as she twirled.  The dancers nearby parted to give her special space.

Signora Feathered Head spared a glance before pinning Tavi with her gaze. "My father owns most of the Lowland Marsh of the Dun-Colored Mudflats," she commented. "Perhaps you've heard of it?" 

Out of the corner of his eye, Tavi saw Aki-san flinch violently.  

Perching on his nose!

Aki-san jerked his hand free of Savina's and slapped himself in the face.

Hopping on his head!  Hopping on his head!

People stared.  Nyoko gave Aki-san an exaggeratedly shocked expression and immediately turned away, gesturing to the people around her not to look, not to stare.  Of course, such an example of an Adept's decorum only made them stare harder.

And looping!  And ear-buzzing!  And more looping!

Aki-san was still dancing, sort of, but he was also twitching and jerking and fluttering his hands like…_well, like a man under assault by an invisible hummingbird,_ Tavi thought.  People were now laughing.  Some of the drunker ones were pointing.  

Savina performed perfectly, acting more and more flustered but struggling to keep dancing as her partner flailed and ducked.  Never breaking stride, she danced right into his wide-open hands—

—emitted the sweetest, most ladylike shriek Tavi had ever heard—

—and startled backward like a fawn, eyes wide, mouth open, hand fluttering to her bosom.

Aga Aki-san, third son of the Governor of Cauldron, stood with both hands frozen in mid-air, the object of the room's gaze.  The music died just in time to let everyone hear him clearly: "I—I didn't mean to touch your—_oh my_!"

Phoebe was laughing uncontrollably in Tavi's head.  He fought to keep his own face straight. _Get out of there, Pheebs.  Back to me, quick.  And… well done._

In the sudden stillness, Savina stared at Aki, giving him nothing—no reassurance, no help.  The thought crossed Tavi's mind: _She's… really good at this._

Arden edged closer to her mistress, apparently quaking with horror-struck fear.  Mena got there first, pushing her way in as if to defend Savina bodily and spitting at Aki:  "Sixteen!  She's _only sixteen_!" 

"I'm sorry!  I—I didn't—there was—I don't know—I'm sorry!"  Aki looked even more terrified faced with Mena.  Tavi bowed curtly to the feathered hair ornament and stalked over to the scene himself, gripping the hilt of his wakizashi for good measure while Phoebe came in for a safe landing in the folds of his cloak.

Tavi arrived at the same moment as their host, Lady Funaki.  Aki stammered new apologies to her, but she cut him off with a glare and a raised hand.  Her cheeks were flushed with anger.  She bowed to Savina.  "I am heartbroken at this unseemly disruption," she said, "but, in the spirit of the holiday, might I dare beg you to grace my unruly guest with your forgiveness?"

Savina drew herself up very straight, swallowed, and said, "You are an incomparably gracious host, and the fault is not yours."  She cast a cool glance at the abject man beside her, then turned back to Lady Funaki.  "I trust that the offense itself was unintentional, but I—I'm quite shaken.  Perhaps you might show me to a room where I could collect myself?"  

"Thank you for your great courtesy," Lady Funaki bowed.  "Come with me—I shall lead you personally.  This way." Mena put her arm around Savina protectively, Tavi quickly fell in beside them, and Arden followed behind.  The crowd parted.  This was it—Savina had smoothly accomplished not just the fall of Aga Aki-san, but a private audience with the Head of the Ring of Peerage.  

Oh! More fun!!!

_You were perfect, Pheebs, but I *really* need you to be quiet for this one._

As they were about to leave the ballroom, Lord Endo waylaid Tavi.  They stepped to one side.  Lord Endo opened his mouth to speak, paused, pulled his glasses off, and frowned at the floor.

…Uh, oh…

Endo raised his stern-as-stone face to Tavi.  "I have not laughed that hard in a long time," he stated flatly.  "You have my support."  

Um, Tavi?  I'm not sure he knows what "laughing" means.

Tavi gave Lord Endo a farewell bow—and gave Phoebe a mental _I'm with you, but let's take his word for it_—before jogging to catch up with Lady Funaki and the others. 

The noblewoman escorted them into a small private parlor.

"Now truly," said Lady Funaki to Savina, "are you all right?"

Savina nodded.  "Actually," she began, "though the cause is unpleasant, we're very glad to have the opportunity to speak with you privately about—about another matter entirely."

Lady Funaki blinked, faced with the suddenly intense expressions of four heathens.  

"I don't know if you've heard of our becoming Inquisitors," Tavi began,  "or of the group calling themselves the Restless Tide of the One True Path."

Now Lady Funaki looked distinctly wary.  "We come to ask for your assistance," Savina resumed.  She explained what they had learned about the Tide so far—and the threat such terrorists represented to Cauldron's peace—concluding with the revelation that the Head of the Ring of the Priesthood was the leader of the Tide in Cauldron.

"And Lord Ono recruited you—a team of heathens—to go the long way around the Circle for him," Lady Funaki surmised. "Lord Ono is playing a deep game." She studied Savina and Tavi's faces.  "Perhaps too deep for the Peerage to support, especially since we have seen no serious manifestation of the threat you say exists."

"Blessed Daughter, if I may be bold to speak?" Arden murmured.  

"Would you allow my servant to speak?" asked Savina.

At Lady Funaki's nod, Arden began.  "May it please you, my Lady, I've infiltrated the Tide, spent time with them, talked to them.  They're revolutionaries.  You should hear them mock the peerage.  They think you've surrendered your old prestige, that you don't deserve your power.  They want it for themselves."

Lady Funaki stared.  "Infiltrated the… Lord Ono is playing a _very_ deep game," she repeated.  "You are prepared to bear witness to this?"

"In Kettenek's name I swear it, my Lady," said Arden.

"Kettenek is holy to _us_," said Lady Funaki, continuing her piercing stare at Arden.  "What is holy to _you_?"  

Arden looked back at her.  "Kettenek," she answered shortly. "Also the three others."  The slave was convincing, Tavi had to give her that, but her tone had become cool enough to be insolent.  Savina interjected immediately.  "What my servant means, Lady Funaki-san, is that we worship all four gods, and that we share in common with you the belief that Kettenek is the arbiter of truth, justice, and honesty."

"In other words, Arden has spoken the truth," added Mena. "In addition, we have a great deal of testimony and evidence of acts by the Tide subverting the power of noble houses that has been formally Witnessed by the Adepts."

Lady Funaki gave Mena a quick nod and returned her full focus to Tavi and Savina.  That was good, Tavi thought, because otherwise she would have seen Mena roll her eyes at what the noblewoman said next: "Signor Octavian, Signora Savina.  Like me, you bear the honor and burden of the high blood in your veins, and you have proven it by your bearing in our city.  For your sake, and to defend the pride of our houses, The Peerage of Cauldron will support your mission."

"You are as wise as you are gracious, my Lady," said Savina.  

"Thank you," added Tavi, "on behalf of the di Raprezzis as well as the Inquisition."

"Do not thank me," she said.  "If you are correct, then the Tide mocks the Lord High Regent.  The Peerage must respond.  And _I_ must return to my guests.  I congratulate you on your resourcefulness in this matter.  Take your time composing yourself, Signora Savina."  

With that, she swept out of the room.

Savina sank into a chair.  "Tavi?" she asked.  Her voice wavered, and Tavi saw that she was shaking all over.  

"You were great," he told her.  

"Indeed you were," said Mena.  Savina could only nod.  

Eventually, they returned to the party.  Not long after, as the hour of sunrise approached, the dancing grew sporadic, the final song was played, and the guests said their good-byes, drifting out into the cool pre-dawn dimness.  

The party's carriage let them off in the silent street before the Inn.  As the horse's hooves clattered away in the gray light, Kormick surveyed Savina.  "Lying," he said, "has given you a lovely glow."

Tavi chuckled as Savina stammered, "Well, I—I shan't make a habit of it.  But thank you!"

As she walked on ahead toward the Inn, Kormick leaned toward Tavi.  "You laugh, you laugh," he said.  "But if you'd pursued things with her, she would have eaten you alive." 

Up ahead, suddenly, a man stepped out of the shadows, blocking their way into the Inn's gate.  He wasn't Sovereign.  And he was raising his hands to cast—

"Ambush!" snapped Mena, as footsteps on the cobblestones heralded several more dark figures running up behind the group.  "Rose! Behind me!"

Oh wow, Tavi, I didn't think this night could get any more exciting…_but it just did_!


----------



## Kuritaki

Ilex said:


> Perching on his nose! Hopping on his head!  Hopping on his head! And looping!  And ear-buzzing!  And more looping!
> 
> Um, Tavi?  I'm not sure he knows what "laughing" means.
> 
> Oh wow, Tavi, I didn't think this night could get any more exciting…_but it just did_!



Pheebs is glorious and GREAT!


Ilex said:


> Kormick surveyed Savina.  "Lying," he said, "has given you a lovely glow."



Kormick is also great.
As always a wonderful update


----------



## Ilex

The recent delay in updating is entirely my fault... I'd like to say I've exclusively been working super hard but I have also, let's face it, been spending my free time on some delightful summertime naps.  

Unlike yours truly, here in the story hour, our characters are feeling pretty seriously sleep-deprived.....


----------



## Ilex

*23x03*

It was not the first time Kormick had faced the prospect of a street brawl after a night of carousing, but he was both uncharacteristically sober and uncharacteristically hungry after his performance as Tavi's servant at the party.  This made the prospect less exhilarating.  

Three attackers—two men and a woman—were closing in from behind them.  Next to Kormick, Mena drew her sword and narrowed her eyes at the man wearing glasses who blocked their way forward.  "You," she said.  "I know you from somewhere…"

"Excellent.  Let's find a bar," Kormick said.  "Friends should have a drink before murdering each other in the gutter."

There was a yelp from behind him.  Nyoko had just shot the female attacker, a fashion-plate blonde whose expression of fury read, "You got blood on my dress, you bitch."  On cue, energy began to crackle between the spread hands of Glasses. 

_Sober murder it is, then,_ Kormick sighed. 

One of the other two male attackers—slight, dressed all in black—appeared like a shadow at Tavi's side, threw a cord around Tavi's neck, and pulled.  "Hit him, Tavi!" yelled Mena, and in response to this unquestionably solid advice, Tavi jammed his sword straight backward and grazed the grappler, who grunted but didn't let go.

The final combatant—a burly man—charged Arden, bashing her with a flaming mace, just as the blonde flung out her hands and shot two lightning bolts.  One bolt jittered over Nyoko's skin and the other one similarly convulsed Twiggy. 

So now Nyoko and Twiggy were shocked, Tavi was being strangled to death, and the murder slave was concussed or on fire or both.  

"You really don't want to make this _more_ unpleasant," commented Glasses, letting loose with some kind of rippling energy that made both Savina and Twiggy scream and collapse to the road like puppets with strings cut.

Seeing Savina drop like that reminded Kormick of his sister.  His sister at the end.  Limp on the floor.  The strength of fury began to overtake him.

"And you really, really shouldn't have attacked the Alirrian priestess," he answered.  He strode forward with a warhammer in each hand and saw fear behind the glasses. 

He slammed Glasses in the side of the head and, as the man slumped, caught him on the other side with a hammer to the ribs.  Now he saw fear and pain, and that was even better.  He crossed the hammers together and snapped his sister's name – "_Elizabette._" A surge of brilliant wrath leapt out between the hammers and engulfed the man before him.

Suddenly Mena was beside him, a furious gorgeous avenging angel.  Her sword took Glasses in the leg as he dodged backward.

_DM’s Note: That attack by Kormick, by the way, was something like at least one crit plus an action point, for a total of 60+ points of damage in a single round.  Yet another beautiful moment where jonrog1’s dice decided to back up his role-playing._​
Savina dragged herself to her knees and, from there, prayed down Alirrian's wrath on the man grappling with Tavi.  The man hauled Tavi around and used the kid's body to absorb the strike.  "No!" cried Savina.  Tavi looked close to unconsciousness.

"Wake up, Tavi!" yelled Mena.  "Your duty isn't dead unless you are!"  Tavi's eyes cleared and his knees looked less buckle-y.  _So spectacularly… terrifying…_ Kormick thought, fondness for Mena welling up amidst his rage.

That was when the girl in couture blasted both him and Mena with lightning.  The shock hurt like Gert the Bloody Auntie’s time-honored pliers procedure back home, but worse, it screwed up Kormick's brain's ability to issue various fairly important orders to his body – orders like, "Take a step," or "don't go limp."  Mena reeled sideways and Kormick felt his limbs quivering.  He couldn't move.  He was barely hanging onto basic sphincter functions.

He could _watch_, though, as the guy with the flaming mace hammered Arden some more, then—chillingly—turned his attentions to Rose.  Rose screamed as the mace wielder grabbed her by the hair and dragged her away from the fight.  _So,_ Kormick realized, though helpless to _do_ anything about that realization, _they're here for Rose._ 

Arden slashed at Rose's would-be abductor as he went, but it was shaping up to be a horrible, horrible day until, in an eyeblink, Tavi teleported away from his attacker's arms and landed next to Rose.  He tore the man away from his sister, growled, "You're mine," and almost sliced the man's arm off with a flash of his flaming sword.  

Kormick was so inspired that he successfully lifted his foot to take a step—

—but Glasses hit him and Mena with a shockwave of magical something-or-other.  Suddenly it wasn't dawn, it felt like high noon, _how time flies when we're having fun_, and the summer sun plummeted down, developed fangs, and bit off the top of his skull.  

So… that hurt.

Kormick shook the psychic vision from his eyes and saw Rose follow her brother’s lead and teleport away from her would-be captor and into an alley beside the Inn.  The man who had tried to strangle Tavi glimpsed Rose, too, and took off after her.  Twiggy flung out a hand holding a gleaming orb and knocked the man off his feet with a blast of invisible force.  Kormick could guess how the guy felt as he slammed to the pavement, but that didn't mean Kormick pitied him.  Twiggy, apparently feeling as irritated as Kormick, spun around with a firm gesture and ignited her flaming sphere.  It swallowed both the blonde girl and the mace guy.  They staggered out of the flames.  The blonde girl's fancy clothes were now satisfyingly charred.  The mace guy, though, seemed untouched.  _Damn fire resistance,_ Kormick thought.

Kormick didn't feel strong enough for the warhammers yet, but he yanked his dagger out of his belt and threw it, murder-slave style, at Glasses.  Glasses hadn't been expecting that:  Kormick heard him grunt "Ehkt's Balls!" as the dagger grazed his cheek.  There was a flash as Glasses teleported, reappearing farther away down the road.  "Don't go!" Kormick hollered after him.  "I'm not done murdering you yet!"

"I've seen this coward before," Mena said, still looking a little dizzy as she stared down the road at Glasses.  The sight of her swaying body unnerved Kormick, but then her voice grew stronger. "At the Questors.  That's where."

"Which Questors?" Kormick asked.  "Here in Cauldron?"

"Yes.  I'm sure of it," she spat.  Then she wheeled around, saw Tavi locked in a fierce battle against the mace-wielder, and yelled, "_Hit that hateful man, Tavi!_" 

Kormick grinned.  _There can't be too much wrong with the world if Dame Mena still has time to get angry._

The mace-wielder swung, sending ripples of fire toward Tavi.  Tavi was unhurt.  Two could play the fire resistance game.   

The mace guy looked peeved about that.

He looked a little more peeved when Arden stabbed him in the back.

And he looked unconscious when Tavi seized the moment to clobber him over the head with his sword's pommel.  "One down!" Tavi called.

A rush of chaotic energy—it was high noon again—and that gods-damned toothy carnivorous sun came dropping down from a desert sky on another mission from its gods-damned glasses-wearing master.  The leering fireface licked Kormick's eyeballs and left him blind.

It wasn’t just Kormick, this time.  "I can't see!" he heard Twiggy scream through the searing pain and all-consuming white-hot glow.  "Me neither—Alirria!"  He heard Savina begin to pray, but he also heard the ragged edge of agony in her throat.  She was hurting as much as he was.  He was grateful to hear her voice grow clearer as she finished the prayer, and from Twiggy's shout of thanks, he knew they were both healed.

In his case… the world still consisted of searing white light.  Still, Kormick figured that Glasses must have sneaked back to the front lines while he and Mena had been watching Tavi duke it out with the mace-wielder.  That meant that Glasses was probably still nearby.  Yes—he could practically hear the coward snivelling.  Kormick heaved up a hammer, and swung blindly once.  Nothing.

Again.

"Oh, you wouldn't hit a man with glasses, would—?"

_Slam_.  The hammer found flesh.

"I do, in fact, hit men with glasses," Kormick said.  He swung again but found nothing:  the wiseguy had probably teleported again.

Kormick listened, hard.  He could hear the others still tangling with the blonde girl and the grappler.  He heard lightening bolts, grunts of effort, Tavi's sword spinning with its characteristic flamey crackle, cries of pain, Mena shouting instructions, Twiggy incanting.  

He didn't hear sniveling.  

He waited, hands gripping the hammers.  

He heard the blonde girl scream, "Catch me if you can, then!" and the sound of bespoke shoes racing away on the pavement.  The sound of boots went after them.  A scramble and second footrace suggested that the grappler was bolting, too, with someone in hot pursuit. 

"Ah well.  Not today, then," said the voice of Glasses, very close.  Kormick spun in a circle with the hammer—still blind—but got nothing.  He heard the man's footsteps as Glasses began his escape.

With spectacular timing, Savina's voice rang out over the running footsteps, praying for healing.  In an instant, Kormick's eyes were clear and his strength returned.  He charged after the robed man.

"Stop running!" he yelled.

"No!" returned Glasses.

"Jan!  Hit Four-Eyes for me!" added Mena, and Kormick put on a burst of speed and walloped Glasses in the gut.

Glasses grunted, staggered, and then returned with a punch so adorably telegraphed and slow moving that Kormick didn't even bother to dodge.  The man's fist wavered closer to Kormick's jaw—and then turned into _that blazing gods-damned head-biting—_and set his teeth, jaw, nose, and eyes on fire and filled his sinuses with magma.  

Kormick fell back, hands clapped to his skull.  He heard Glasses say "Tsk-tsk," before sprinting away.  He dimly saw, down the road, the others returning from footraces empty-handed.  The mace guy was their only prisoner, and Kormick's head was going to explode.  He leaned forward and puked stupendously.

_And this,_ he concluded, _is the problem with brawling sober.  You still get the hangover, but you never savored the buzz._


----------



## coyote6

Hey, belated congratulations to Fajitas on the Leverage ep. Great fun!

But, man, GMing for your boss has got to be hard. "Uh of course Kormick crits on a 16. Any word on raises?"

Sent from my MB860 using Tapatalk


----------



## Fajitas

Thanks, Coyote!  Glad you enjoyed.

GMing for the boss isn't too bad.  The harder part is not geeking out about the game while at work...


----------



## ellinor

*24x01*

A breeze ruffled the torn jerkin of the beaten Questor at Tavi’s feet.  The sun was rising.

Staring at the Ehktian holy symbol hanging around the man’s neck, Tavi was sure he knew what was going on here . . . but he wasn’t ready to admit it, even to himself.

“Should we take him back to the Inquisition for questioning?”  Twiggy asked.  

 “Or there’s an alley right there,” Savina replied, pointing.  

“Savina, my dear,” Kormick  said, “are you suggesting we drag an unconscious man into an alley to interrogate him?  How far you’ve come.”

Tavi grabbed the man under the shoulders, pulled him into the alley, and threw a bucket of something – it was water, once – over the man’s face.  “Wake up,” he barked.

The man gurgled and opened his eyes. 

_Time for answers,_ Tavi thought.  “Why did you attack us?” 

“For the bounty.”

Tavi’s bad feeling about this instantly grew worse.  “Who offered the bounty, and what are the terms?”

“Some Hennan family.  Di something.  Offered fifty thousand gold for the capture of . . .” the man propped himself up on an elbow and looked around.  His eyes finally settled on Rose.  “Her.  Capture her, bring her to the Temple of the Questors in Pol Henna, ask for ‘Lira.’ ”  He slumped back down and closed his eyes.  “The notice said not to kill anyone.  We didn’t kill anyone.  —Did we?”

The man passed out again.  Tavi, his bad feeling confirmed, squelched the urge to kick him—this man wasn’t the real target of his anger.  

“Fifty thousand gold.  Wind’s ,” Mena swore and smacked the wall beside her, mirroring Tavi’s feelings perfectly.  “So every Questor from here to Pol Henna is looking for us.”

“Probably on the other side of Pol Henna, too,” Kormick pointed out.

“Diego  said our mother was under control.  He must have been wrong,” Tavi told Rose.  

“This bounty was set by your *mother*?”  Nyoko gasped.  “What kind of sick woman would put a bounty on her own child?”

Tavi had asked that question, or variations on it, many times himself.  He knew the answer.  “A desperate one, who thinks it is the best way to protect Rose.  She’s wrong about that, but she doesn’t know it.”  He reached in his mind for a memory in which his mother let anyone else make a decision about Rose.  He couldn’t find one.  “She probably never will.”  

In retrospect, Tavi couldn’t be surprised that their mother had taken such drastic steps.  When she had herself left home at 16, trying to escape the marriage her father had arranged for her, her father had done the same thing to try to bring her back.  Tavi had hoped she would avoid emulating her father’s heavy-handed abuse.  He now saw that she was beyond caring about heavy-handedness.  

Tavi put his arm around Rose’s shoulder and squeezed.

For a moment, all was quiet.  But the sun was up now, and carts clattered in the distance.   They had their answers.  They bound the Questor and brought him to the Hall of the Inquisition to be dealt with.

As they explained what had happened, Lord Ono sat behind his desk, his head in his hands.  He pressed his thumbs against his temples before looking up.

“Some Inquisitors are capable of going their _entire careers_ without being attacked.  You’ve been attacked twice in three months.”

“We understand how unusual this is, Lord Ono-san,” Tavi replied, as deferentially as possible.  “It appears that our mother has set a reward for Rose’s return to Pol Henna.  But we understand the importance of our work here in Cauldron and wish to continue it.  We do not want to create any inconvenience for the Inquisition.”

Lord Ono got a far-away look in his eyes.   “I long for the days of mere ‘inconvenience.’”  He paused.  “But we must put a stop to this at once.  An attack on Signora di Raprezzi-san is an attack on the Inquisition, and it is unacceptable.”   Lord Ono rang a bell near his shoulder.  In a few seconds, a runner appeared.  “Fetch Yudai and Mawu,” Lord Ono said.

###

Savina recognized the first of the two names.  Prime Inquisitor Yudai had led the initial Inquest into the Hillside District, and had allowed the Alirrian heresy there to continue.  

“I don’t know where Yudai-san personally comes down on the Affirmation,” Lord Ono said, as if reading Savina’s mind, “but he is a servant of the Inquisition and Kettenek.  When it comes to ending an attack on the Inquisition, he’ll be helpful.” 

“And . . . Mawu?”  Savina asked. 

“Mawu-san is exceedingly good at her job,” Lord Ono replied, cryptically.

“What _is_ her job?”  

“Torture,” said Lord Ono. 

At that moment, the two Inquisitors arrived.  As Lord Ono discussed the situation with them, Savina took in their appearances.  Prime Inquisitor Yudai was in his late 40s or early 50s, with salt-and-pepper hair and a goatee.  He seemed almost to blend into the environment, with a look as gray and nondescript as his robes.  Chief Questioner Mawu was an older woman, short and rounded, with deep wrinkles, steel-gray hair, and intense, heavy-lidded eyes.  From her shoulder hung a folded leather case, which she stroked in an apparently absent-minded gesture.   

Yudai bowed.  “I am Prime Inquisitor Yudai.”  He turned to Savina.  “Signora Savina-san, I understand we are indebted to you for two reasons:  your work in Hillside and your role in last night’s drama.  I am sure you did not enjoy being groped by Aga Aki-san, but I assure you his embarrassment was enjoyed by many of us.”  

Savina was surprised by his genial nature.  She was not ready to warm up to him, but it was a start.

Mawu made no introduction, but continued to stare and stroke her leather case.  Occasionally she whispered something inaudible, as if comforting an unseen pet.  

Savina didn’t doubt that she was good at her job.

Lord Ono waved them off.   “Go.  Find the perpetrators.  Do what you need to.  Send a message that this will not be tolerated.”

###

Outside Lord Ono’s office, they hesitated.  How does one stop an entire city from pursuing a bounty, and apprehend the attackers, all at once?  Finally, Kormick voiced what was hiding in everyone’s mind:  “We need to get more information from our prisoner.  He passed out before we really got going.”

For the first time in their acquaintance, Mawu spoke.  Her mouth smiled, but her voice was hard and even, like a spade dragged against rock.  “Would you like me to ask him some questions?”   

Twiggy shivered.  It was a question to which every answer was wrong.

As they descended the stairs to where the Questor was being held, Yudai peppered them with questions about the Questors’ practice of pursuing bounties and rewards.  

“We’re not trying to stop them from pursuing bounties generally, just from attacking the Inquisition,” Twiggy said.  The Affirmation protected legal Ehktian activity, including the pursuit of appropriate bounties.  After his errors in Hillside District, however, Twiggy didn't quite trust Yudai to understand that they weren’t here to prosecute Ehktians for being Ehktians.  “We bear no ill will toward the Questors.”

“Ill will is irrelevant, Twiggy-san,” Yudai responded.  “Sometimes we show mercy by cutting off hands and feet.”

“Hands and feet,” Mawu repeated, softly, stroking her leather case.

Twiggy wondered what they had gotten themselves into.

###


Tavi watched the cage as Kormick cranked it up into sight.  Inside, the Questor was awake, and pacing the two-step diameter of the cage.  

“What else do you want to know?” the Questor volunteered.  Tavi wondered if Mawu’s assistance would be necessary, after all.

“Your name, who you were working with, how you met them,” he snapped. 

 “I’m Tavek.  The boss man – he’s the one with glasses – we never got his name.  The woman is Odelette.  We met at the Questor chapter house.  Boss man said we could share the bounty if we worked together.”

Kormick strode over.  “That’s three names.  There were four of you.”

Tavek crossed his arms.  “I’ve been very cooperative,” he said, and shrugged.

“And you think you can stop now?” Mena stepped forward. “You put our friend in danger for a paycheck, and you lost.  It’s over.  You want a challenge?  Try being honest.”

Tavek cocked his head defiantly.  “I have been honest, I assure you.”

Kormick stood very close to Tavek.  “Understand:  you need to tell us everything you know.”  He gestured at Yudai and Mawu.  “I’m from the murder capital of the Eastern Continent and these people terrify *me*.”  

Tavek made no move to speak.  

Kormick waved to Mawu with the international gesture for “he’s all yours.”  

Mawu unfolded her leather case.  Inside there was a series of shiny metal instruments.  Mawu purred at them like pets.  She pulled out a few long needles, so thin they were difficult to see.  “Tavek-san,” she said, “you had better come with us.”  She unlocked the cage and turned the needles so they caught tiny glints of light.  “My friends and I have some questions for you.”  She walked slowly toward a nearby door and—eyes wide—Tavek followed.  Nyoko, following Mawu’s nonverbal signals with a look of resignation, followed as well.   Tavi recalled one of Nyoko’s early descriptions of the Adept’s responsibilities as Witnesses: “see everything, hear everything, be prepared to testify.”  Tavi wasn’t sure he had realized, fully, what that entailed until this moment.

“She’ll find out what he knows,” said Yudai, after they’d left.

The minutes passed slowly as they waited.  Eventually, Nyoko emerged, pale, from the side door. Mawu and Tavek followed immediately after her.  “Such a dramatic response from such tiny instruments,” Nyoko whispered to Tavi, quiet enough that Tavi thought no one else could hear.

“It is a technique based on acupuncture,” Mawu answered, as she slid the needles back into their spaces in the leather case.  Tavi tucked “super-sensitive hearing” away in his memory.

Nyoko reported the answers she had witnessed.  The name of the fourth attacker was Ellisen, and he and Tavek were romantically involved.  At sundown, they had planned to escape through tunnels in the North of the city and rendezvous with the other attackers at a place in the Ketkath known as the “silent waterfall.”  Odelette had her own so-called “foolproof way of evading the law,” which Tavek did not know, but he knew that she had been staying at the Inn of Opulent Luxury.  The man with glasses had not described an escape plan at all:  he’d said he planned to “walk out the main gate of the city.”

“That is all he knows,” Nyoko said.  “Truly.”


----------



## Fajitas

In the interests of full disclosure and general amusement, I should probably mention that in this session, Yudai and Mawu were played by my father and mother respectively.

I should also say that nothing I have ever done in the campaign freaked my players out as much as my mother's role-playing of Mawu...

...until very, very recently, that is.


----------



## StevenAC

ellinor said:


> “This bounty was set by your *mother*?”  Nyoko gasped.  “What kind of sick woman would put a bounty on her own child?”



I really hope Nyoko gets to meet Lira at some stage -- with spyscribe playing both parts... 

The _Rose in the Wind_ Story Hour page has now been updated with the latest five chapters.  44 pages of Skill Cascade goodness... enjoy!


----------



## spyscribe

StevenAC said:


> I really hope Nyoko gets to meet Lira at some stage -- with spyscribe playing both parts...




The "What kind of maniac...?!?" line was all kinds of fun.  Nyoko doesn't have any living blood relations that she knows of, and the idea that a women would send bounty-hunters after her own children...  Nyoko doesn't have emotional outbursts frequently, but when she does, she makes them count.  Between that and witnesses Mawu at work, it was an emotionally fraught evening for the poor girl.

While I wouldn't be surprised if Nyoko and Lira were to someday meet, I handed Lira over to fajitas at the beginning of the new campaign. So no chance of double-duty on that front.  Not that it won't be weird enough to have fajitas playing her.  (For both of us, I suspect.)


----------



## ellinor

*24x02*

Twiggy took notes as the group made a list of tasks.  



> -	Tavi would write a letter to Diego to confirm the source of the bounty and to let their mother know that, despite its admonition against killing, the bounty was a serious danger to life and limb for Tavi and Rose, and was tantamount to a death warrant for the Questors who undertook it.  With luck, Dona Giovanna would call off the hunt.  Tavi was not optimistic, but all agreed it was their best hope for safety.
> 
> -	They would meet with the Questors, and post a notice anywhere the bounty was posted, warning all against attempting it.  This would be more effective than merely taking down the bounty notices, which could be replaced.
> 
> -	Finally, based on Tavek's information, they would investigate and, if all went well, track down, their remaining attackers.



To save time, the group split up for the various tasks, and agreed to check in at various times during the day.  Tavi sat down to write the letter to his family.  Everyone else set out to post notices warning people off the bounty, with the aim of investigating their attackers along the way.

“Let’s see if we can get everything wrapped up before we have to go find that man Ellisen at sundown,” Mena issued a challenge to the group.  “We don’t want Rose in danger any longer than she has to be.”  

I suppose that means a nap is out of the question.  It feels like we haven’t haven’t slept for . . . Acorn paused to do math in his head, and his little eyes fluttered closed  . . . forever.

_It has been a long time,_ Twiggy comforted the mouse.  _Feel free to sleep in my pocket while we post signs around town._

###

Kormick took the notice from Mena as she returned from the back room of the Questor’s chapter house.  “As we suspected,” she said, “Brother Soburu was only too happy to help.  Said the Questors’ goal was to meet challenges, not draw unneeded attention.  He even signed the notice.”

“Your mother did at least one thing right,” Kormick said to Rose, who had been waiting beside him. “She chose Mena as your teacher.  Well-persuaded, Dame Mena.”  Kormick tacked the notice to the wall near the door, and looked around.  Too many of the patrons were staring into their beverages, and too few were staring at the Inquisitors posing the notice.  “You, sir,” Kormick announced, “Yes, you.  The young man in the orange.  Over here.”  

The young man in orange stood, looked around doubtfully, and walked over to Kormick.

Kormick put his arm around the young man and pointed at the notice.  “Would you please read that in your loudest voice?”

“Attention,” the man croaked.

“Louder,” said Kormick.  “Start again.”  All eyes were on them, now.

“Attention,” the young man said, with more volume, if not confidence.  “The bounty on the girl pictured below—”

Kormick motioned toward Rose beside him, as if she were a work of art on display.  Rose bent her knees in an ironic curtsey.

“—calls for an illegal attack on an Inquisitor of Cauldron.  This bounty is strictly prohibited and must not be pursued.  Any and all persons pursuing this bounty will be prosecuted to the fullest extent by the Inquisition.”

“Whose names are those on the bottom?”  Kormick asked, rhetorically.

“Lord Ono, head of the Inquisition, and Brother Soburu, head of the Ehktians.”

It looked as if everyone got the message.

###

_So it turns out that “walking out the main gate of the city” is precisely as bad an escape plan as it sounds,_  thought Tavi, as he followed a runner back to the House of the Inquisition at about noon.  Apparently, the gate guards had apprehended the man with the glasses early that morning, and it had taken the runner some time to find one of the party to come and question him.  

“He confessed,” explained a gate guard, who met Tavi and the runner in the vestibule of the Inquisition, “as soon as we stopped him.”

The gate guard was holding the chain of a set of manacles.  Wearing the manacles was . . . *not* the man with the glasses.  It was a Sovereign man of about 30, wearing the uniform of a gate guard.

“So . . . you stopped this man from escaping Cauldron,” Tavi asked the first guard.  

“Yes,” replied the manacled one.  “I was trying to leave the city.  You see, I had attacked a group of Inquisitors for money.”

Tavi showed them a drawing of the man in glasses, which Nyoko had created for “wanted” posters.  “Is this the man you arrested?”

“That’s me,” said the young guard in manacles.

The spell would wear off eventually . . . but the man in glasses was, Tavi knew, long gone.  He had, just as he’d said he would, walked right out the front gates of the city, and was deep in the Ketkath by now.

###

By the time Twiggy felt Acorn stir in her pocket, it was midafternoon, and the group had reconvened to investigate the blonde attacker’s quarters at the Inn of Opulent Luxury.  

Hey, this place is much nicer than where we’re staying, said Acorn, as he wriggled his head out of Twiggy’s pocket.

_And much more expensive, too.  Anyway, our place is just fine._

A porter showed them down a richly paneled hallway to Odelette’s room, which was large and sparely decorated with exquisite details.  A very plush bed stood in the middle of the room, and a gorgeous flower arrangement sat on a table beside it.  Odelette had, clearly, left the building.  Although she hadn’t told the proprietors that she was leaving, her belongings were gone, with the exception of a few bits and bobs of wool and stone—spell components, Twiggy assumed—on the table near the bed.  On a divan in the corner lay the thick silk robe that had been provided by the Inn.  Twiggy picked up the robe—as much to feel its softness, as anything else—and noticed that it smelled lovely.

Lovely is an understatement, Chelesta.  Ask about that heavenly aroma.  Ask![/i]

Twiggy held the robe out for Nyoko to smell.  Nyoko sniffed, thought, and sniffed again.  “I know the scent,” Nyoko said at last.  “It is a massage oil, mixed by the Adepts, and used for elite clients.”

_Acorn, is there any way you could follow that scent?_

I’d follow that scent anywhere, Chelesta, Acorn replied, and directed Twiggy toward the room’s edge, and then out to a veranda.  I’d follow it anywhere . . . but it doesn’t go anywhere.  She must have teleported from here.

“It’s not quite a dead end,” Nyoko observed.  “Now we know we can ask about her at the Adept House.”

###

“Let me check,” said the young Adept behind the desk.  Behind him was a rice-paper screen, and behind that was the Adept House spa.  The Adept ran his finger down the page in front of him.  “Odelette, you say?  She’s scheduled for a massage at . . .”

The rice-paper screen slid open, and a blonde woman—Odelette—walked out, oblivious to the group’s presence.  She was wearing a towel.  Only a towel.  “I’m ready for my…” she said, trailing off as she looked up and noticed the others. 

For a moment, it was hard to say who was more surprised.

Then Odelette turned around and BOLTED.

“Get her!”  Mena yelled.  Nyoko took off, Arden leapt after her, and the rest of the party followed, crashing past the clerk at the desk and into the massage rooms.

###

Left behind, Mawu opened her leather case and spread it out on the desk of the spa. She took out one of the small needles and examined it closely.  “They are my friends,” she said to the young man behind the desk, indicating the instruments in her case.  “I call this one my ‘gentle inquiry.’”  She put it back gently and picked up a pair of silver pliers.  She could hear the chase, beyond the hallway of the spa, moving into a different part of the Adept house.  As the sound traveled farther and farther away, Mawu could hear a woman’s scream, and a smashing noise.

“You’re  . . . not going to chase the light-haired woman?” asked the man.  His voice was shaky.  

_Their voices are so often shaky,_ Mawu thought.  “No, I am of more use here, preparing,” she said, “preparing, here with my friends.”  She polished the pliers gently.


----------



## ellinor

*24x03*

Yamashiro Tamahashi was about to have the dinner of his life.  He had been saving for months to dine at The Dining Room.  All of the best fine dining establishments in Cauldron had chefs trained by the Adepts.  At The Dining Room, the chefs were the people who _trained_ those chefs.  The Dining Room was located on the Adept House grounds, and was the only eatery in the entire city of Cauldron featuring _exclusively_ Adept chefs and waitstaff.  It was so universally recognized as the most amazing dining experience in Cauldron, it did not even bother with a name extolling its virtues.  The Eatery of Exquisite Culinary Delights? Practically street vendors compared to The Dining Room.  The Establishment of Great Dining Pleasures?  May as well serve sand. The Dining Room had the best ingredients, the most original recipes . . .

Yamashiro Tamahashi took his place at a long, low table of diners in the quiet room.  Behind him, an Adept with a towel over one arm leaned in and placed a bowl of cold, aromatic soup in front of him, in unison with the other waitstaff, in a delicate choreography of dinner service.  “Welcome, Tamahashi-san,” she said.  Her voice was kind.  Yamashiro Tamahashi took a sip of the soup. It was amazing—fresh, spicy, with a subtle sweetness.

In the distance, Yamashiro Tamahashi thought he heard a noise.  As if someone were yelling something.  _”Look out for the kiln!”  “My urn!”_  That couldn’t be right.  _Must be Adept combat practice,_ he thought, and took another sip of the soup.  It was exquisite.

Yamashiro Tamahashi took a deep breath, savoring the aroma of the soup once more.

CRASH!  A woman burst through the rice paper screen at one end of the room.  She was completely naked, holding a towel in one hand.  She left mud and blood on the screen—she seemed covered in clay, and was bleeding down her leg, from the dagger embedded in her thigh . . . _I can be forgiven for noticing her nakedness before the dagger,_ thought Yamashiro Tamahashi . . .

The woman crashed past a table and ran, dodging pillows and chairs, running past the long table in the middle of the room, knocking down one of the waiters and crashing through the rice-paper wall at the other end of the room and out into the courtyard, leaving a massive hole in the wall . . . a plate of food clattered to the ground . . . _a plate of delicious food _ . . .

An Adept ran in, then, chasing the blonde.  She was a tiny woman with long, jet-black hair.  She leapt onto the large table, cartwheeling and flipping.  She dismounted in one graceful movement and dashed through the hole in the wall.  Not a single plate was disturbed.  

_Whew,_ thought Yamashiro Tamahashi, and leaned forward again, reaching for the morsel of marinated mushroom the waitress had placed before him.  _That was crazy._

But it was not the end.  A red-haired heathen woman, also sopping with clay, followed at top speed, brandishing a dagger.  The heathen, too, jumped atop the table, but her foot landed on a brazier near the corner of the table and she nearly fell.  “Gods-damned _aristocrats_!” she muttered in a disagreeably outlandish accent.  She charged down the middle of the table with alarming speed, plowing through glasses and plates as she continued the tirade under her breath (“. . . spoiled rich . . . waste of time . . . EHKTIANS . . . !”).  Yamashiro Tamahashi didn’t bother to make sense of her jabber.  He was too sad.  _My mushroom! That . . . he stared down at the gastronomic carnage on the floor.  That was my mushroom . . . 

“Stop!  In the name of the Inquisition!”  It hardly surprised Yamashiro Tamahashi, then, when several Inquisitors appeared, following the chase, although it surprised him that they were heathens—three women, one focusing on an orb and another brandishing a half-formed piece of wet pottery, and the third yelling “Run!  Catch her!” A Sovereign Inquisitor followed just behind, with two more heathens—a sturdy light-haired man with a hand-crossbow and a tall dark-haired one with a sword.  “Duck!” yelled the one with the crossbow, and fired; the arrow flew over the table, narrowly missing Yamashiro Tamahashi, and out into the courtyard, where the naked woman had tripped over a topiary.  The arrow flew just past her arm and pinned her towel to a bench.  She struggled to get up and continue running . . .

They all clattered out to the courtyard, leaving behind them more hole than wall. Yamashiro Tamahashi could not help but follow them with his stare.  He stood up and walked to the torn wall to get a better look at what was going on in the courtyard . . . the naked blonde appeared to be getting away . . .

And suddenly, the Sovereign Inquisitor at the back of the group became HUGE, as tall as the building.  He stepped across the courtyard in one stride, and blocked the woman’s escape with his foot.  As the naked woman paused, preparing to vault his foot, the red-haired one pounced, tackling her to the ground. “Eat clay,” the redhead advised her prisoner, and shoved a handful of would-be pottery into the blonde’s face.  

“You’re under arrest,” added the enormous Inquisitor.

The Inquisitor with the crossbow stood back, picked a kumquat from one of the trees, and ate it.  He spotted Yamashiro Tamahashi.  “Want one?”  he asked, and threw a kumquat toward the dining room.  “My . . . mushroom . . .” was all Yamashiro Tamahashi could say.

“We apologize profusely for the disruption, Tamahashi-san,” said one of the waiters. “We will have this cleared up shortly.”  

###

Mena dragged Odelette, still naked, back to the entrance of the spa, being careful not to avoid the spiny topiaries along the way.  “You’ve put us through enough trouble,” Mena said.  “You have one chance to make our lives easier, and this is it.”  Mena pushed the naked woman down onto the chair in the waiting room, and threw her towel at her.  “Cover yourself up.”

Mawu stepped forward, then, a small pair of silver pliers in her hand.  She stopped a few inches from Odelette.  “My . . . friend and I have some questions.”

Odelette’s eyes got wide.

“Tell us your plan.”

“I . . . we . . . it was the man with the glasses.  He found us at the Questor Chapter House.  We were going to capture the girl and meet up at this spot in the middle of the Ketkath, called the “silent waterfall.”  It’s a couple days’ hike from Cauldron.  The man had some way of getting us from there to Pol Henna.  We’d collect the bounty and never see each other again.”

“What did you know about the people you were attacking?”  Mawu asked, her voice hard and cold.

“We only knew about the girl, and that one,” Odelette said, pointing at Tavi, “and that we weren’t supposed to kill him or the girl. But we watched them all for some time. We knew they’d try to protect the girl.”

“And you knew they were Inquisitors.”

“Well, now that you say it, I suppose we did.  But . . .”

Mawu moved quickly and steadily, and with unexpected strength.  She grasped Odelette’s hand, spun her around to the ground, and held her there, with her knee between Odelette’s shoulder blades. She produced a thin silver cord from her robe and used it to tie Odelette’s thumbs together behind her back.  

She picked Odelette up from the ground, and handed her off to Yudai.  “You have been very helpful,” she said, without inflection.

###

As sundown approached, all that was left was to apprehend Ellisen, who—if Tavek had been telling the truth—would be waiting for Tavek in the tunnels at the edge of the city.  Tavek had given up his lover’s whereabouts only under torture.  Savina disapproved.  She had seen enough fear for one day.  This man had been defeated and was leaving the city, and would never see his lover again.  His lover had been tortured.  Must this man also be tortured with the knowledge that his lover had betrayed him?

They followed Tavek’s directions.  Behind a dwarven tavern near the wall was a small trapdoor.  They climbed inside, and Savina cracked a Sunrod to light.  They could see a cavern, large and irregular.  Pillars cast shadows and supported high roof beams, presumably put there to prevent the cavern from collapsing.  It was too dark to see much, but they could see footprints in the dust.  The footprints led to a pillar and stopped.  Ellisen was nowhere to be seen.

As the echoes of their footfalls died, all was quiet.  Did Tavek manage to lead us astray?  Has Ellisen escaped already?  More and more, Savina was hoping that he had.

Yudai called out.  “Ellisen, it is the Inquisition.  If you come out, it will be better for you.”

Silence.

“We have Tavek,” said Twiggy.

Savina heard something near the far side of the cavern.  It was Ellisen, she thought, slipping past them, out of the city.  Perhaps he will be safe, after all.  She let the Sunrod slip through her fingers to the ground—on purpose.  The pool of light died.  

Twiggy cast light and they could see again.  There was another faint shuffling sound, and Savina turned her head toward the far side of the cavern.  No one else did—she hoped they hadn’t heard.  But Mena followed her gaze, snapped a piercing look at Savina, and then sped off into the darkness.  At that, there was the twang of an arrow from Nyoko, and a muffled gulp.  Nyoko, too, ran into the darkness.  Kormick and Arden climbed into the rafters.  There were sounds of struggle.  

Twiggy moved forward, and her pool of light showed Ellisen, dressed all in black, bleeding from Mena’s sword but holding Nyoko by the neck, using her as a shield.  

Silence again, for a moment. Then Kormick dove down from the rafters onto them and pounded Ellisen with his warhammers.  Tavi winked out of view.  When he appeared again, he had taken Nyoko’s place in Ellisen’s grip.  Tavi stabbed backward, straight into Ellisen’s gut.  Ellisen cried out from the tangled mass of people.  Yudai teleported behind them and sliced his katana at Ellisen’s ankles, immobilizing him.  Tavi burst into flame, and Ellisen screamed.  The fight was over almost before it had started.  A victory, surely, but Savina could not be happy.

###

Within 24 hours of the attack on Rose, the Inquisition issued a guilty verdict against Tavek, Ellisen, and Odelette for conspiracy and attack on the Inquisition.  They were executed quietly, without fanfare and—to avoid drawing any attention to the Questors that might generate anti-Ehktian sentiment or otherwise fuel the Tide—without mention of their religious affiliation.

For the mysterious man with the glasses, justice would have to wait.  

Kormick knew better than to think it was over.  Trying to put an end a bounty is like trying to put the milk back into the cow.  Won’t happen.

But this round was over, and the day—the day that had started two days before, before the wrestling and the gambling and the meeting with the crime boss and the dancing and the party and the fighting and the running around town—was ending.

“So, Nyoko, what do you say?” he asked. “Drinking first, or sleeping?”  

“We haven’t eaten since last night, Justicar,” replied Nyoko, “except for that kumquat.  So eat first.  Then drink.”  She smiled.  “Then sleep.”_


----------



## Falkus

ellinor said:


> Within 24 hours of the attack on Rose, the Inquisition issued a guilty verdict against Tavek, Ellisen, and Odelette for conspiracy and attack on the Inquisition. They were executed quietly, without fanfare and—to avoid drawing any attention to the Questors that might generate anti-Ehktian sentiment or otherwise fuel the Tide—without mention of their religious affiliation.




Aww; that's kind of depressing. Not unexpected though, I guess. I'm something of a softy when it comes to prisoners when I play and run games.


----------



## ellinor

You have a good point, Falkus -- but in a way, it's the best outcome we could hope for, since it's really the only outcome that didn't risk further inflaming the Tide or giving the Tide further ammunition to inflame the population against the Affirmation.  Plus, this was among the more "honorable" deaths offered by the Inquisition, which is not known for its mercy (!) and would ordinarily exact a far more public and prolonged death sentence on those who attacked the Inquisition.

We can console ourselves, a bit, with the knowledge that as Questors, they constantly lived on the edge of life-threatening risk on purpose, and in this case, they knew that death would be the price if they were caught (or if they were defeated in a fight).  

And there's still the man with the Glasses, who survived unpunished.  At the close of the session, Fajitas said "you know, before now I haven't had a lot of of chances to include a recurring villain..." and then let that hang in the air in a cloud of foreboding.  ::shiver::


----------



## Ilex

Falkus said:


> Aww; that's kind of depressing. Not unexpected though, I guess. I'm something of a softy when it comes to prisoners when I play and run games.




Me too!  We were as merciful as possible to the derro prisoners, and obtained leniency for Mariela's men, and even offered Kawazu his life (for what it's worth to him these days in that dungeon).  As a _player_, it was thus a bit shocking that we just let the Sovereigns kill these guys without our usual extensive moral qualms.  (Plus, if this were real life, obviously I would be horrified, but that's true of soooooooo many things in almost any game....   )  That said, because they were convicted of freely choosing to attack us ... we hadn't provoked them and no one else coerced them ... it's safe to say that _Arden_, unlike me, felt okay about concluding that they asked for it.  Also comforting is the fact that--being Questors--they died serving their god:  their names will presumably be celebrated in the halls of Ehkt for facing such a challenge.  

Doesn't mean that I, Ilex, didn't cringe when I was reminded of their fate by reading ellinor's update, though...!


----------



## Falkus

I can understand the rationale and reasons; but I guess I mostly feel sorry for them because they seemed more misguided than murderous. Except for Glasses. He seems like kind of a jerk. Oh well, I'm sure he's learned his lesson and is long gone; never to trouble our heroes again- ah, I can't even finish that sentence with a straight face.



> And there's still the man with the Glasses, who survived unpunished. At the close of the session, Fajitas said "you know, before now I haven't had a lot of of chances to include a recurring villain..." and then let that hang in the air in a cloud of foreboding. ::shiver::




As a fellow DM, I know the feeling. Only a handful of my NPCs who plague my players manage to get away to torment them another day if they engage them in combat. They had something against people running away, and went to great lengths, even to the point of taking powers solely for that purpose, to stop them from escaping.


----------



## Ilex

*25x01*

Writer's note: it's been two weeks, so here's two weeks' worth of update in one! (i.e. it's longer than usual). ​
*WEEK 8 | MONDAY*

On her way to breakfast in the Inn's common room, Savina paused at the building's door to enjoy the breeze. The weekend had been exhausting. _It will be good to return to our normal routine_, she thought, and then had to laugh to herself for being glad to get back to "normal" life … that is, life as a Sovereign Inquisitor engaged in the complicated and top-secret political maneuver of going the long way around the Circle. Not long ago, she would barely have known what any of that _meant_.

And the sulfur in the breeze would have bothered her terribly.

Suddenly, she missed Pol Henna and her _original_ normal life. The thought struck her: _Why shouldn't I teleport home for a weekend?_ She had almost forgotten that it was possible.  She could visit the Temple and spend some time with her parents.  Odetta would probably be off negotiating trade agreements, but she could see how her brother Cassio’s studies were coming and if Dianora was still flirting through every ball.  What would her family think of who she was becoming?  Would they understand her need to continue this quest?

Mulling over the idea, she walked into the dining area. Kormick was slumped at the bar and pouring powder into a steaming mug. 

Curious, Savina paused to watch as he took a sniff of the mixture. Something tugged at her attention. The other night, in the midst of the confusion of the fight with the bounty hunters, she had felt… something.  Yes—it was when he'd attacked the glasses-wearing man on her behalf.  Barely noticed in all the excitement, she had felt some trace of the Goddess about Kormick.  _But… no. I can't be right._ 

She closed her eyes, and then opened them and _looked_ again. Something shimmered.   _ How can that be? _

After another evaluative sniff, Kormick threw his head back and swallowed the contents of the mug at a gulp. Then he turned around with immense weariness and saw her.

"I am… excruciatingly hungover," he announced.

"What did you just mix up for that drink?" Savina asked.

"Who knows? Stuff. And… things. It helps the head."

The drink was a folk remedy, nothing divine.  That wasn't the power she had sensed—the power she could _still_ faintly sense.  Savina stepped closer, trying to see the answer in his bloodshot eyes. "Has Alirria blessed you, Jan?" she wondered aloud.

Kormick snorted as if she'd made an unexpected joke. "Savina, I am barely a Justicar of _one_ god. Come on. Let's go decide what we're doing next in this political farce." Giving her a benign pat on the shoulder, Kormick set off for the party's table at the back of the room.

As she followed him to the table, Savina decided that she would say nothing more about it… for now. But this would bear watching.

Over breakfast, she mentioned her plan to visit Pol Henna for a day or two. She wasn't prepared for the response. Tavi choked on his tea, Rose nearly dropped her spoon, Kormick began to laugh, and Twiggy shook her head solemnly.

"No," said Mena, glaring at her. The Defier seemed surprisingly angry.

"Dame Mena," Savina replied, a little stiffly, "I will do as I wish."

"A letter says a lot," countered Kormick. "And has less risk of you getting locked up in the di Raprezzis' mansion by the crazy lady."

"I cannot imagine that it would be unsafe," Savina persisted. "I am a Di Infusino.  Would Signora Giovanna really attack me?" 

"Her bounty hunters attacked you," Tavi said.  

"Well…" Savina hesitated. "I suppose I could wait."

"It's your decision, but I do appreciate having you stay here with us," said Rose softly, and thus it was decided.

The conversation progressed to a review of their most urgent priorities now that Ehkt's Judgment had passed. Nyoko explained that she'd received an invitation to perform the Dance of the Seven-Fold Secrets for the Head of Lands, Lord Tanaka, at one of his indulgence parties. She hadn't been told a date or a place, but the invitation confirmed Kormick's earlier intelligence that a party was coming up. She would accept the invitation—which meant she had to learn the dance.

It was important that as many of them as possible try to obtain an invitation to the indulgence party, because that would give them greater odds of speaking privately to Lord Tanaka himself. Tavi and Twiggy decided to angle for information about the secret party, too. Savina didn't offer to help. Neither did Rose. _It doesn't sound like an event for refined people,_ Savina thought, with a little shiver of distaste as she imagined the  underground free-for-all.   _And where is the reverence for our Lady’s gifts? It sounds like they gorge on all her blessings without truly understanding or appreciating any of them._

Instead, Savina offered to continue seeking out the city's secret Alirrian population. Although the Affirmation officially protected their activities, their presence was still almost entirely underground—memories lingered of the massacre of their sistren not so many years ago. 

"You should go along, Mena," Twiggy said.  "You said you spotted a few Alirrians among the Snuffers."  

"Perhaps today is not the best day," Mena said.  Savina was sure now: Mena was angry about something, simmering in her chair like a teapot near to boiling.  Twiggy did not—or chose not to—notice.  "I think it's a good idea," she persisted.  

Mena cast an unsettling look at Savina, sighed, and gave one sharp nod of assent.

Kormick declared that he'd continue building a relationship with Cauldron's organized criminals, the Eighths.  Savina suspected that he had his own Undian reasons for doing so, but she couldn't deny that forming such a connection would help them gather information about the indulgence party, the Tide, and anything else that wasn't necessarily easily found in the broad daylight. 

"I'll borrow the murder slave," he added, "if you don't need her for any bloodletting assistance."

Savina didn't think she would.

###  

Mena led Savina to the Snuffer's Temple, where they would attempt to make contact with the Alirrian healers Mena had already noticed hiding among the Ehktians there.  Savina was wearing her Alirrian robes, her holy symbol flashing in the sun.  Mena's irritation with the girl was still so fresh that every flash seemed a personal annoyance, a reminder of something not resolved.  Mena would have preferred to wait until she was calmer, less emotional, but perhaps now was her best chance.  She took a deep breath and began.  

"Let's talk about last night," she snapped.  "You knew where Ellisen was hiding in the cavern, but you protected him.  Why is that?"

"I… His lover fought so hard for him, but was betrayed by torture and will die.  His friends are gone.  I thought perhaps he had suffered enough.” 

"It endangered us all."

Savina drew herself up, anger in her voice.  ”I would not willingly send anyone to that woman Mawu.  Did you know she believes heathens have no souls to suffer?!”  She took a breath, resolute. "I do not apologize for having had my fill of death.“

"That's admirable," said Mena softly.  She was relieved to see the girl look startled at this unexpected concession.  It was a heartfelt concession, too, no doubt about that.  Her anger now cooling, she relaxed into a more teacherly mindset and explained.  "But it’s not my point.  I'm angry that you didn't share your thoughts with the rest of us.  I'm angry that you instead sabotaged our efforts secretly. Those people intended to capture Rose, and they directed violence against all of us.  _And they will not be the last._  If you value Rose's life at all—if you value all our lives—you _must_ give us advance warning the next time conscience pricks you."

Savina was silent for a few paces.  Finally, she murmured, "That much is fair, Mena.  And I do apologize for my misjudgment, as I had hoped he would be content to run." Mena smiled in true relief.  

As they neared the Snuffer's Temple, Mena added, "Do let me be clear.  I deeply understand your desire to prevent a death.  But I could never wish upon you the burden of knowing that your actions cost a friend or comrade their life.  There are always consequences, even for good intentions."

Savina cast her a probing look, no doubt alert to the emotion in Mena's voice.  But Mena pointedly walked on toward the Temple, relying on Savina's tact to let the conversation end there.  Neither of them said another word about it, but they worked comfortably together for the rest of the day. 

*TUESDAY*

Nyoko squirmed a little inside.  Now that she was actually standing in the dance studio in front of the dance master, she was surprised that it was this hard to make her request.  Using her Adept training to calm her mind, however, she focused on her mission and then composed her question.  "Iwai-Sensei, I wish private instruction to learn… to learn the Dance of the Seven-Fold Secrets."  She felt surprised eyes upon her from the Adepts warming up in the room behind her, but she ignored them.

To her relief, Iwai-sensei was nodding.  "You were a most able student for the Dance of Sedellus.  I will be honored to instruct you further.  Here is a list of things you will need…"  From memory, he rattled off special make-up, fabrics, and other items that Nyoko would have to buy.  Then he bowed, she bowed, and she headed for the door to do some shopping.

DM’s Note: For game mechanics purposes, the Dance of the Sevenfold Secrets counts as a ritual that only Nyoko can perform.  The cost involved in obtaining these items represents the ritual costs.​On the way, she saw her rival, Unsuku, glaring at her.  Glaring as if her eyes were bows and their beams were twin arrows, striking at once.  

*WEDNESDAY*

Tavi couldn't remember the last time he'd endured such excruciating pain.  His skin felt flayed; his muscles pummeled flat.

With everything he had, he stifled a groan of pure agony and sent a psychic grunt to the frantic Phoebe warning her not to poke out the eyes of his tormentor.  

Looming above him, his Adept masseuse murmured, "Does that feel sufficiently effective, Signor-san?"

"Great," Tavi answered, teeth gritted.  "But more, please."

He'd decided, that morning, that the best way to get invited to an indulgence party was to become better known as an indulgent man of… excessive tastes.  Accordingly, he'd visited the Adept spa and asked for the full deep-tissue package.  Unfortunately, Adepts were known for their finesse, decorum, and artistry, not for unseemly and illicit excess.  After hours of relaxing steam room sessions and massages that artfully walked a delicate line between sensual and sexual, he'd realized that he wasn't getting anywhere—wasn't meeting the quail-egg-craving extreme-pleasure enthusiasts who might invite him to the Lands party—so he began asking for more.  More extreme.  More unusual.  More, more, more.

The Adept climbed on top of him, planted an elbow against his back, and slowly raised the rest of her body off the floor until she was balancing her entire weight on that single elbow, nestled snugly alongside his spine. 

"After this, more exfoliation," she murmured.

Tavi swallowed a scream.

*THURSDAY*

Twiggy, who'd initially been envious of Tavi's spa plan, had felt better once she'd seen him return home the previous night, bright pink and limping, and make a beeline straight for Savina's healing prayers.

And _Twiggy’s_ method of getting an invitation to the indulgence party was enjoyable, too.  She was wandering the local markets, visiting apothecaries and farm stands, seeking a place with the correct array of herbs for her purposes.  It was fun—for once—to see a veritable catalogue of the local flora under circumstances in which she could reasonably expect that none of it would leap up and assault her.  It brought back memories of her childhood, of those fleeting moments on her father’s lap as he taught her about trees and flowers, how to make them grow, which ones were poisonous and which were tasty, how to tell them by name and taste and smell . . .

Finally, she discovered an unpretentious little apothecary storefront that, within, opened up into a treasure trove of natural healing remedies and more exotic specimens.  The customers browsing were quieter and better-dressed than the surrounding neighborhood warranted.  Twiggy bought a small collection of herbs, making no effort to hide what she was selecting: euphoric, mildly hallucinogenic, sedating…  Combined, they would have even more fascinating effects.  At the counter, the shopkeeper cocked an eyebrow at her.  She gave him a knowing smile in response.  He bowed graciously.  She bowed back.

She was on her way to becoming known as the heathens' expert drug dealer.  

*FRIDAY*

Kormick, with Arden behind him like a slim, malevolent shadow, arrived at the bar where the Eighths congregated and saw that a place was already set for him at his usual table.  He shot Arden a satisfied look and read answering satisfaction in her face. 

It hadn't been like this on Monday, when they'd first arrived for lunch.  Kormick had conspicuously laid aside his Inquisitorial and Kettenite accoutrements as he'd entered.  The regulars and staff—almost all of them members of the gang—had glared as he'd settled into a chair and ordered.  Arden had snagged a pair of wooden chopsticks to twirl and leaned against a wall with the bored-yet-alert look of a competent bodyguard.

As the waiter served his stew and a few other men lurked around in a transparent attempt to be intimidating, Kormick had glanced up after his first bite and announced pleasantly, "Gentlemen, you're in my light."

The next day, when it happened again, he commented, "If we had some conversation, it might not be so tense in here."  They stayed silent.  

The next day, Kormick spoke around his last mouthful:  "Still so quiet, eh?  I regret to inform you all:  I am _exceedingly fond_ of this particular stew."

The next day—yesterday—the waiter had attempted to bar his way to his usual table.  Kormick had laid a hand on his warhammer.  Arden had appeared at his shoulder, twirling a chopstick that somehow, after several days of loitering, had been sharpened into a killing point.  "I would not come here triflingly," Kormick observed to the room at large.  "You know that."

The waiter had cast his gaze to Arden, who looked him in the eye and spoke for the first time all week: "My boss does not lie."

Kormick had been interested to note that Arden faked an Undian accent beautifully, just as if she really were a member of his hometown crew.  _That could prove useful if I decide to bring her and her murderous talents back to Dar Und…_

The waiter, for his part, had glanced into a shadowy back room, received some signal, and stepped aside.

Today, Kormick sat down at the set place and grinned as the stew appeared in the hands of the grudgingly polite waiter.  He'd just accomplished some good old-fashioned gangland diplomacy.

###  

That evening, Arden slipped into _her_ usual booth at the Inn of Agreeable Company, reflecting that she was now playing the role of two underhanded characters who hung out at two separate underworld taverns:  first was her role here, as the Tide's newly recruited heathen lackey, and second was her role as Kormick's minion for his outreach to the Eighths.  _That's a lot of lies,_ she thought, and was troubled to find herself smiling rather than … well, troubled.  

She was at a dangerous point with the Tide: they clearly wanted her to do something more—that is, something in the homicide category—to win their trust completely.  Unless she did that, she was never going to learn all their plans, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could credibly resist their pressure.  Tonight's conversation might get awkward.  

But her contact, Shen, thumped onto the bench across from her in an obvious hurry.  "Not much time tonight," the Tidesman said, flashing a grin.  "And I can't tell you much.  But we're about to move.  Very soon now."

"What are you going to do?" Arden asked, not having to work hard to feign wide-eyed interest in the answer.

"Can't tell you now.  You're not inner circle, not yet.  But when it happens, I want you to know it was us, so you'll know that you're on the winning side."

*SATURDAY*

At their weekly meeting with Lord Ono in the Inquisitorial House, Savina smelled the distinct odor of his antacid tea and felt—as she always did—sorry for the beleaguered man.  He needed a vacation so very desperately.

They had reported their efforts for the week and discussed a few of the finer details, but most of the conversation focused on Arden's disturbing intelligence that the Tide were preparing some imminent attack.  

"You could learn _nothing_ more?" Ono demanded, taking another swallow of tea.  "Not even something said by accident, something you overheard?"

"I'm sorry, my Lord," Arden said.  "They don't trust me that much, and the thing is, I'm not sure how much more of their trust I'm willing to earn."

"Well, that's understandable," Ono answered, with another swallow, "but I don't like—I don't like it—" He broke off, coughing.

"Are you all right, Ono-san?" Savina asked.  

He kept coughing.  With a crash, the teacup fell from his hand and shattered, and in an explosion of red, his cough sprayed brilliant blood across his desk.


----------



## RedTonic

Nooo! Lord Ono!


----------



## WisdomLikeSilence

Wow!  Last night,  Ilex revealed some major secrets about Arden that she's been quietly keeping under her hat for 3 years.  Folks, there is a reason we call her "Deepgame."

Also Fajitas is a crazy DM, but you knew that already.


----------



## ellinor

Thanks for the question, Kuritaki.  The answer to "when will we get to learn about it"  is hard to predict!  But to give you a sense of where we were when, we played the session you're reading now (Session 26) on July 2010.  That seems crazy, since it feels like yesterday.  But the calendar doesn't lie!  

What that means is we're currently running a year and a few months after the game.  We'd love to catch up a bit -- we certainly don't want to get farther behind! -- but one never knows.  

But never fear, oh those of you (that is, ALL OF US) who are interested in Arden's backstory.  You only need to wait until the next update for a taste...


----------



## Ilex

*25x02*

Kormick had seen his share of poisonings, but never with results as spectacular as this. He didn't doubt that the man doubled over in front of him, hacking up blood, was the Tide's latest victim—it fit Arden's newly gathered intelligence.  But he also didn't have the faintest clue what to do for Lord Ono.

Instead, he stood back and allowed his heart to be warmed by the sight of Savina at her heroic best.  She jumped forward, issuing instructions: "Tavi, find help!  Mena! Rose! Help me get him on the floor! Lay him flat!"  Savina turned Ono's head so he wouldn't choke on his own expectorations.  "It's all right, Lord Ono-san," she murmured, and began to pray.

Tavi had raced out of the room.  Twiggy and Arden fanned out, investigating. Arden found an overturned bottle.  Twiggy sniffed it and whispered, "Arcane poison, extra herbs for good measure."  She held up a leaf fragment she'd found.

"Perhaps if we induce vomiting?" Nyoko suggested.  Savina nodded but didn't interrupt her prayer, and Nyoko got to work.  Lord Ono vomited, and then—

"His heart's stopped," Savina announced—still calm—and she placed both her hands upon Lord Ono's chest and began compressions, eyes now closed in ever more fervent prayer.

Kormick felt helpless.  It wasn't enough to resolve that he was going to arrest and, ideally, kill the Tidesmen responsible for this.  "We could really use Alirria's help right now," he muttered to no one in particular.

Lord Ono gasped hugely.  Savina sat back in relief as he opened his eyes.  Tavi rushed in with Sovereign medics, but Ono weakly waved them back out, still flat on his back.  

He waited until the door was closed behind them before rasping, "What happened?"

They told him.  Like Kormick, no one doubted that the Tide was responsible for the attempted murder, least of all Lord Ono.  

"They will be disappointed that they've failed, gentlefolk," Arden said.  "They might try again, or worse."

"Then it's best if they don't know how badly they failed," Tavi suggested.

"Indeed," said Mena.  "Lord Ono, if you would be willing to take to your bed for a time—"

"—he should do so anyway after such a severe shock to the system," Savina interjected—

"We'll spread the word that you're at death's door," Mena continued.  "Let the Tide believe that the attack has succeeded while we go on about our work in secret."

Lord Ono grumbled a little, but Kormick spoke up: "Lord Ono, it seems to me that this enforced bedrest will be the first vacation you've had in years.  Am I wrong?"

He was _not_ wrong, and Ono consented to take to his bed as if his life were truly hanging in the balance.  His leadership tasks would be delegated to Lady Ono Toshiko—his cousin—who would not know the truth about his condition.  "She is not my most _trusted_ lieutenant," he said wryly, "and now that it's obvious there are Tidesmen with access to my office, I trust her even less.  I'll be curious to see how she does."  

With that, they spirited Ono off to his private chambers, telling everyone that the leader of the Inquisition was on the brink of eternity.  _And now,_ thought Kormick, _let's see what crawls out of the woodwork to celebrate._

###  

The next day, to celebrate, Arden's contact Shen ordered them both double shots of a flame-colored liquid that made Arden's eyes water a little before she even got it to her lips.  Her first—and last—sip made her head spin instantaneously.  

"You were actually there!" Shen said.  "Tell me everything."

"It was beautiful to see my mistress so scared," Arden lied.  "She stopped him from dying at that instant, sure, but all she's done is make his death even more prolonged and painful."

"He suffered?"

"He suffers yet."

"And you're sure he won't escape?  You're sure he's dying?"

"They're too cowardly to tell the public yet, but yes.  The House of the Inquisition is quietly preparing for mourning."

Shen smiled and sipped her drink.  "Our plans are off to a good start," she said, and would explain nothing more.  

###  

As Arden arrived back at the Inn, the innkeeper waylaid her with a stack of letters. "These came for your masters," he said, thrusting them into her hands.  "See that they receive them."  Arden curtseyed and took the letters upstairs:  sleek vellum missives from Pol Henna for Savina and Tavi, a relentlessly square-edged Sovereign envelope for Twiggy, and some scuffed-up sheets for Kormick folded and sealed with copious smears of wax.

Arden started with Tavi and worked her way down the hallway, delivering the mail.  Only Twiggy invited her in and opened her letter in front of her, murmuring, "What could this possibly be?" Twiggy's eyes widened, but she smiled, as she read.  "This is an invitation from Lady Mochizuki to play Go with her privately!  Next weekend!  I'm in!"

"That's great news, Lady Chelesta," Arden said.  This was the true culmination of all Twiggy's hard work learning Go: a chance to speak privately about the Tide with the head of the Military in Cauldron.  

"I can't believe I'm really doing this," Twiggy marveled.  "I—"

A rap on the open door interrupted.  Savina was standing there.

"Arden, I need to speak with you," she said.  "Right now." 

Arden sneaked a raised-eyebrows look at Twiggy—_What've I done now?_—before following her mistress back to Savina's room down the hall.  

"Shut the door," Savina said.  Arden did.  She turned to see Savina standing before the bed, the opened letter lying on the silk covers behind her.

"Who really owns you, Arden?"

Arden was confused.  "With respect, Blessed Daughter, your Temple does, of course."  

"Are you lying to me?"

"No!" Arden said.  "Blessed Daughter, I'm owned by the Temple of the Givers in Pol Henna."  Savina studied her, and Arden knew that all the girl's formidable powers of intuition were bent upon her, searching for evidence of untruth.  Arden endured it as long as she could before asking, "…aren't I?"

Savina eased her gaze.  "I believe you're answering honestly," she pronounced her verdict. "But no, according to the response I've just received to my inquiry, the Temple doesn't own you."

Arden's heart raced.  This raised too many questions, all at once, and only a few safe to ask out loud. "Blessed Daughter, if I may ask, why have you been writing home about me?"

"I was thinking of buying you for myself," Savina said. "But—"  

She fell silent as their eyes met, and Arden saw that they had both been caught up short by the strangeness of Savina's statement:  Arden because she had never grown used to hearing her life discussed as property beyond her control—and Savina because she'd never had such a discussion face-to-face with the property in question.  

A moment's silence passed, and then Arden's fear and curiosity drove her to press on.

"Who does own me?" she asked.

"The di Pienta family.  You've heard of them?"

"No, Blessed Daughter.  Who are they?" 

"They are an isolationist family," Savina said.  "Not very politically powerful these days, and not wealthy, but respectable enough.  They have loaned you to the Temple—offering your labor in exchange for your room and board—because they could not or would not keep you at their own estate.  You know nothing of this?  How is that possible?"

_Excellent question._  "I don't know, Blessed Daughter.  About a year ago, I was owned by a mine in Pol Aego.  It was a cruel place.  Many of us died, worked to death.  I was on the brink." Arden paused.  Savina looked sickened. "My recollection of my final days there is very hazy—I was so weak.  As far as I know, Alirrian Givers purchased me out of charity and saved my life.  I woke up at your Temple in Pol Henna."  That was all true, but not the whole truth.  Arden pressed on before Savina asked any follow-up questions.  "What will you do now?"

"Well," said Savina, "I suppose I will have to inquire with the di Pientas directly."  

Her expression shifted to that searching look again, but this time it was almost warm.  "Would you—would you _want_ me to buy you?" she asked.  "Would you like that?"

Arden gave the only truthful answer she could think of.  "Rather than be owned by strangers—yes, Blessed Daughter."  

"Then I will continue looking into this matter," smiled Savina.  "And I'll tell you what I learn."  

"I would be grateful for that, Blessed Daughter," said Arden.

###  

Half an hour later, Tavi summoned Arden to his room. He was sitting at a small desk, his letter opened before him.  "Who owns you?" he demanded. 

Arden began to wonder if she was having a strange dream.  Out loud, she explained what she had just learned. Tavi nodded, accepting her answer matter-of-factly.  Arden thus felt safe to ask, "Signor Octavian, why do you ask?"  

He answered thoughtfully.  "I believe you have served your mistress well, and in addition, I believe you have served my sister and us all with honor and courage.  For this, I believe you have earned freedom.  I would buy that freedom for you, if I could, and so I've made inquiries about your ownership."  

Arden was shocked that he'd thought of it.  She was _moved_ that he'd thought of it.  She wanted nothing more than to say yes, but he had to be stopped.  There was so much that he didn't know, so much that made such an upheaval far too dangerous.  There was even a chance that his gesture could end up getting someone killed. _Probably me._

"Unfortunately," Tavi added, "this matter of the di Pientas confuses things.  I'll write to them to learn more."  

Even a simple inquiry might stir up trouble.  It was one thing for Savina to write, asking to buy her.  It was quite another for Tavi to write, asking to set her free.  

He was looking at her quizzically, and Arden had to say something.  "Signor—I cannot tell you—believe me, I can't find the words—to describe what this means to me.  It's so generous."

"Hardly," he answered.  "You've earned it."  

It was such a respectful response that she felt even worse.  She resolved not to lie her way out of this, at least.  "Signor, I can't accept, not right now.  And I can't tell you why.  But it's important that you let this be."  

She did not like the way his expression changed into a suspicious frown.  She clung to her decision not to lie and drew strength from it.  "I'm sorry," she said.  "If it helps—Mena knows what's going on.  There are reasons I can tell her and not you.  She'll vouch for me."  

He nodded slowly.  "I'm disappointed, but I see no reason to press you—except for one thing.  I must know enough to decide if you intend harm or dishonor to my family, or if this secret of yours may threaten them." 

"On Kettenek's name, I swear I neither intend a threat to your family nor know of one," she said. "If that changes, I'll tell you."

"I want to believe you, and I regret the offense, but I need more than your word.  You claimed not to know who owns you, and now you admit that you're keeping secrets—and my duty to my family must be my first concern.  What facts _can_ you tell me?"

"None."

"If you won't tell me anything, I'll need to keep investigating."

"Please don't press this, Signor.  I've made promises.  I won't break them."

They stared at each other—a stalemate.  Finally Arden had an idea.  "Let's call in Mena," she said. 

They did.  And it wasn't easy, but by the time they all left the room, Tavi had agreed to drop his inquiry. 

He brought the matter up only once more.  Just after dinner, he gave Arden a gift:  his _Amulet of Physical Resolve_.  "I hope it protects you, but also, I continue to feel that you've earned the right to be free.  When the time is right, let this help buy your liberty."  

Arden ran her fingers over the enchanted gem in its golden setting.  "It'll be hard to sell such a memento of your thoughtfulness," she said, heartfelt, but she let her eyes twinkle at him as she continued, "but when the time is right… I'll manage it."

She hoped she was right in believing that his eyes twinkled back, a little.  

###  

Savina was fuming when Arden arrived to help her get ready for bed.  "Would you believe!" she burst out.  "Jan Kormick, going behind my back!"

Arden, who wasn't usually Savina's personal confidant, wasn't sure if this was directed at her or intended as a private monologue.  She raised her eyebrows in a careful question.  

Savina clenched a ladylike fist.  "_He_ wants to buy you!  He sent letters home to Dar Und to make inquiries into who owned you and what it would cost to purchase you!  Of all the nerve!"

Arden gave up and sank into a chair.  "…the _Justicar_?" she asked weakly.  "Are you sure you don't mean Signor Octavian?"

"WHAT?"

DM’s Note: This totally, actually happened, by the way.  Three separate PCs, all acting independently, wanted to make inquiries into purchasing Arden without telling any of the others.  This was one of those sessions where all I had to do was sit back and let the players go…

Arden's Player's Note: GAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! 
(i.e. I was freaked. In the fun way. But GAHHH!!!)​
Arden told Savina only the basics: that Tavi had inquired about her owners, too.  Savina turned a delicately outraged shade of pink.

"It seems your ownership has been quite the topic of research lately.  But you are _my_ concern.  _Mine_.  They both should ask _me_ about you, not send letters behind my back.  This is an insult."

Arden winced as she imagined Kormick’s inquiries.  _I will not be dragged back to Dar Und.  Worse, if Kormick is writing to Undians about me, how much more could he learn…?_

Savina saw her discomfort, but not what was beneath it.  "Arden.  Look at me."

Arden focused, with an effort, on her owner.  –No.  Her mistress.  Her quasi-mistress.  Her girl-she-was-supposed-to-be-serving-even-though-the-girl's-temple-was-just-borrowing-her.  

Savina was looking at her with solicitude.  "I have told you before, Arden, and I'm telling you again.  The di Infusinos take care of our own.  And as far as I'm concerned, that means it's my job to take care of you no matter what the technicalities are.  All right? Now fetch me a cup of tea, light the small candles, and make sure you see to the hem of my silk blue cloak where it frayed, and then you may go to bed."


----------



## Kuritaki

Wow! To have been a fly on the wall....


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

I find it odd that the question raised by that update that I'm most curious about is not the stuff with Arden's backstory or ownership or whatnot--it's what Kormick's motivation for trying to buy her is.  Planning on freeing her, like Tavi?  Trying to protect her secrets and avoid something risky by preventing Tavi from freeing her?  Decided he wants to own a "murder-slave" of his own?  Figured he could make a quick profit by reselling her to Savina?

Also, I find it very amusing that by acting in parallel, and thus establishing that Arden has multiple potential buyers, they have probably driven up the price and effectively transferred some of the party's wealth to the di Pientas.  I guess that's the penalty they pay for engaging in the slave trade.


----------



## Jenber

Cerebral Paladin said:


> I find it odd that the question raised by that update that I'm most curious about is not the stuff with Arden's backstory or ownership or whatnot--it's what Kormick's motivation for trying to buy her is.  Planning on freeing her, like Tavi?  Trying to protect her secrets and avoid something risky by preventing Tavi from freeing her?  Decided he wants to own a "murder-slave" of his own?  Figured he could make a quick profit by reselling her to Savina?
> 
> Also, I find it very amusing that by acting in parallel, and thus establishing that Arden has multiple potential buyers, they have probably driven up the price and effectively transferred some of the party's wealth to the di Pientas.  I guess that's the penalty they pay for engaging in the slave trade.




As I read this, I heard Mena in the back of my head--unbidden--muttering something about "slavers" and "kidneys."


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## Ilex

Cerebral Paladin said:


> ... the question raised by that update that I'm most curious about is not the stuff with Arden's backstory or ownership or whatnot--it's what Kormick's motivation for trying to buy her is.




Kormick is the one person that I/Arden never talked to about this purchasing frenzy directly, so his motivations remained shadowy to her as well.  I believe he told Savina offhandedly that King Lukas is always on the lookout for a good murder slave; whether that was his actual motivation or not didn't necessarily make Arden feel any better at the time.  At the time we played this, she couldn't help being really fond of Kormick, and she _wanted_ badly to trust him, but her distrust of Undians ran--and runs--deep.



Cerebral Paladin said:


> Also, I find it very amusing that by acting in parallel, and thus establishing that Arden has multiple potential buyers, they have probably driven up the price and effectively transferred some of the party's wealth to the di Pientas.  I guess that's the penalty they pay for engaging in the slave trade.




*laughing out loud* That's brilliant.



Jenber said:


> As I read this, I heard Mena in the back of my head--unbidden--muttering something about "slavers" and "kidneys."




And this is one reason why Arden is glad to be _friends_ with Mena, rather than the opposite. (The other reason is that she likes Mena. But that's less relevant here.)


----------



## ellinor

Kuritaki said:


> Wow! To have been a fly on the wall....




Oh, how right you are!  It was quite wonderful.  To give you a sense of how this session went down, there was an awful lot of time when some subset of the group had disappeared into another room of the house to conference, while the rest of us sat and chatted (sometimes in, sometimes out of character).  At one point Twiggy and Kormick had a very interesting philosophical discussion about the difference between justice and revenge, and the role of law and religion in each.  At another point, there were three subgroups going on...none of whom had any idea what was happening with the others.  I, in fact, didn't learn all of what transpired between Arden, Tavi, and Mena until Ilex wrote up this update -- which led to the following DVD Extra scene, which slots in shortly after Arden, Tavi, and Mena had had their conference...



> After dinner, Twiggy stormed into Tavi’s room.  She was riled up, and for nearly the first time in her life, she was willing to be genuinely, intentionally, insubordinate.
> 
> “Savina is trying to buy Arden,” she said.
> 
> “So I hear,” replied Tavi.
> 
> “Arden has given us so much,” Twiggy burst out, “and not just because she’s had to.  We’ve trusted her with our lives and she’s earned that trust.  I consider her a friend.  She should have the ability to make her own decisions and own her own property.  She should own herself, just as we all own ourselves.”  She paused for breath.  “You should make that happen.”
> 
> Tavi shook his head slowly.  “I . . . do not disagree.”
> 
> “But . . .”  Twiggy felt petulant and helpless.  She had . . . won?  But Tavi didn’t seem to be doing anything about it.  He certainly wasn’t telling her anything.  It was clear that the matter was closed.  But why?  Twiggy grumbled back to her room feeling as petulant as ever.




It wasn't until months of gameplay later that Twiggy (or I) found out from Arden what Tavi had done...and only a few days ago that we learned all of what transpired in that room.  It's not just Ilex who's playing a deep game!


----------



## Ilex

*25x03*

*WEEK 9 | MONDAY*

At the end of another long day of practice, Nyoko was finding it hard to summon the mood of spontaneous sensuality required for the Dance of the Sevenfold Secrets. The dance master was not helping matters as he stared at her critically, unmoved by her sinuous movements.  Her rival Unsuku, smirking among a few other onlookers from the room's corner, was merely the clincher. 

Savina was sitting among the onlookers, too.  She had come to the Adept House today with the goal of seeking secret Alirrian Handmaidens among the Adepts who specialized in … well, in the very arts Nyoko's dance was supposed to be celebrating.  She'd disappeared into the depths of the House for the afternoon, and had now reappeared in the rehearsal room accompanied by a handsome young Adept.

As Nyoko twirled past them, she saw that Savina's companion was tracing his finger in soft spirals up and down Savina’s bare arm.  On her second twirl, Nyoko saw Savina whisper giggling into the man's ear and then kiss his earlobe.  

She wanted to ask Savina how her day had gone, but when she twirled around again in the dance's last pirouette, she only caught a glimpse of the vanishing couple as Savina led the man out of the room by the hand…  

At least her dance was having the desired effect on _somebody_.  Or else Savina had found herself at least one Handmaiden.  Or both.  

*TUESDAY*

As she walked to the marketplace, Twiggy thought about how odd it was that, as her stratagem for finagling an invitation to the Indulgence party, she’d chosen to pose as a maker of intoxicating substances.  When she’d suggested it, it had seemed natural—her father had taught her about various intoxicating herbs, primarily to warn her away from eating them—but now she realized that at some point she might be expected to _partake_ of such substances.  She’d never done that before, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.  _What if I became intoxicated and said the wrong thing?  Or did something to harm the di Raprezzis?_  It was the sort of risk she’d spent her entire life avoiding.

But she had started down this road, and she’d see it through.  Plus, she had an idea about mixing arcana with the botany her father had taught her, and she wanted to see if it would work.  She pushed open the door to the apothecary she’d found the week before.  

“Welcome back, Lady Twiggy-san,” said the shopkeeper with the knowing smirk.  

*WEDNESDAY*

"…so, in sum, I'm asking you to release the wrestler we arrested for cheating."  

Kormick, confident that he'd made his case, leaned back, smiled at Mena and Arden, and waited for Chief Inquisitor Yudai to agree with him.  

"I thought you served Kettenek yourself, after the heathen fashion," said the austere man from across his austere desk in his austere office.

"Absolutely," Kormick agreed, not sure where this was going—but sure that his confidence had been premature.  _Here comes another round of Sovereign passive-aggression_.

"Then I must be mistaken. It sounded to me like you were asking us to release a known criminal before he has paid for his crime."

"As I said, I want to get him released as a goodwill gesture for his bosses in the Eighths."

"Is showing goodwill toward a criminal gang standard procedure for honoring Kettenek's aspect as God of Law and Justice, Kormick-san?"

Mena's armor began emitting the faintest impatient growl, so soft that Kormick trusted Yudai would never hear it.  When Mena spoke, her voice was simply cool and professorial.  

"Inquisitor Yudai-san," she said, "there is a story about two men who wanted to feed their families with fish.  The first caught a small fish, took it home, and his children went to bed hungry. The second caught a small fish, used it as bait to catch a much bigger fish, and his children ate for two days."  

Yudai looked thoughtful.  The silence stretched out.

"In Dame Mena's analogy, the cheating wrestler is the small fish," Kormick clarified.

"I understand."

"The Eighth bosses are the big—"

"Yes."

"Justice is served by catching the big—"

"Yes, I've grasped that; I'll release the man."

"Kettenek and I thank you."

"Justice is not served unless this pays off," said Yudai.  "I'll expect results."

"We're not leaving Cauldron without results, trust me," Kormick said, and turned to Arden.  "Murder-slave, go tell our friends in the Eighths that I've taken care of the little matter of the wrestler from Ehkt's Judgment.  Sell it."  

"Yes, boss," Arden answered mischievously in that flawless fake Undian accent.  _I don't care what Savina says,_ Kormick thought.  _Arden's coming to work with me someday._

Arden slipped out ahead of them as Kormick turned to Mena.  "Come along, Dame Mena," he said. "Let's go free the perfidious malefactor you pantsed."

"So many men who deserve pantsing, so little time," said Mena.  It was either a threat or a promise, Kormick wasn't sure, but he was happy either way.

*THURSDAY*

In his ongoing effort to become recognized as a man of extreme tastes, Tavi steeled his nerves and knocked on the unmarked door before him.  This didn't look much like a restaurant, but that was the point.  He'd decided to focus on food this week, and his earlier inquiries had led him to The Establishment of Great Dining Pleasures, The Oldest and Most Distinguished Restaurant on the Top Ring, and the Eatery of Exquisite Culinary Delights.  While they'd all been delicious enough, they'd also all been elegant and refined.  Phoebe had nearly keeled over with boredom.  _Well, that ends tonight,_ Tavi thought.  Nyoko had helped him get the inside scoop on this place—supposedly a secret to all but the most daring diners in Cauldron.   

He wasn't looking forward to it.  This was either going to be boring or painful.  _At least, if it's painful, I'll be doing my job right,_ he reassured himself.  

And it'll be so much more interesting!, added Phoebe.

_Not comforting, Pheebs._

A peephole on the door slid open and a forbidding face studied him closely—and then appeared to recognize him.  The door opened and the doorman bowed him forward, saying, "Welcome, honored heathen-san, to the Room of Rare Tastes.  You grace us with your famous presence." 

Tavi nodded, stepped inside, and instantly felt better about this adventure.  The room was dim and smoky, yet the warm firelight and buzz of conversation radiated friendliness.  The walls were covered over with animal trophies and seals from sake bottles, some of which Tavi recognized from his lessons with Nyoko as very fine indeed.  Chefs were scattered throughout the room, grilling meat over charcoal burners in front of guests at their low tables.  The doorman escorted Tavi to a table of his own and a server asked what he wanted.  

"Whatever you've got that was most recently killed in the Ketkath," said Tavi, aiming for exoticism and praying that this didn't turn out like that last exfoliation session at the Adept House.

The server grinned.  Not long afterwards, Tavi was sampling rare steak from an electric-antlered blue deer, sipping fantastic sake, sharing his adventures with an admiring crowd, and enjoying himself immensely.  

*FRIDAY*

Nyoko, covered in sweat and aching in every muscle, wanted nothing more than a warm bath and a body rub.  It had been a grueling rehearsal, but she was approaching the level of precision required by her instructor.  Given a few more weeks, she should have the Dance of the Sevenfold Secrets down cold… assuming that they _had_ a few more weeks before the Indulgence Party.

She was about to enter the bathing chamber when Unsuku stepped around a corner right in front of her.  Nyoko jumped.  

“I hope this is not a discommodious time,” Unsuku said, with a gracious smile.

To anyone but an Adept, it would have seemed only polite inquiry.  But to an Adept, to one so accustomed to reading nuance, every element of Unsuku’s body language was positioned to indicate disrespect, contempt, and condescension.  The tilt of her head, the width of her feet, the curl of her fingers.  In most people, it might be dismissed as carelessness, an unconscious physical expression of buried emotions.  But Unsuku was an Adept.  What’s more, she was a dancer.  The precise carriage of every muscle should be second nature to her. 

No, this was a calculated insult, designed to be subtle. To force Nyoko off guard and off balance.

_I’ve really ticked her off,_ Nyoko mused.

Fortunately, they were both Adepts.  They could both play this game.  Nyoko smiled and adopted a poise of perfect courtesy. “Of course not,” she replied. “It is never discommodious to do a favor for a fellow Adept.”  

And then she batted her eyes sweetly.

This would have appeared utterly innocuous to almost any observer.  To an Adept, however, it was the physical equivalent to adding a very unkind word to the end of her sentence.

Unsuku continued smiling pleasantly, but the twitch of her upper lip appended a similar unkind word.  “I know what you’re doing,” was all she said aloud.

“Taking a bath?” Nyoko responded. “I am pleased to know you are familiar with the process.”  _Because I had my doubts_, she added with her body language.

This time Unsuku did not rise to the bait.  Her smile just deepened… and there was a hint of malice attached to it.  “I know you and those heathens are trying to go the Long Way around the Circle,” she hissed.

Nyoko’s blood froze, and she strained not to let it show in any aspect of her bearing.  It was vital that their mission remain a secret from the Priesthood.  If word leaked, the Priesthood would apply pressure to the Inquisition and it would all be over…

“Why would we do such a thing?” Nyoko asked.

“I don’t know and I don’t care.  But I have eyes and I have ears and I have many, many friends.  You and the heathens have been up to any number of strange things.  It’s not hard to put it all together… if anyone was actually interested enough in you to ask the right questions.”

Nyoko said nothing, not trusting herself not to give anything away.

“You’re obviously targeting the Priesthood,” Unsuku said. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. And since I assume you don’t want me to inform them of your activities, I suggest, with all due respect” (and her body language indicated just how little respect that was) “that you accede to my wishes.”

_Stay calm,_ Nyoko thought.  _Admit nothing and buy time to confer with the others._

“Assuming your silence is of value to me, what would you want?” _Harlot_, she added physically.

“Ten thousand in gold…” Unsuku said. 

Nyoko’s jaw dropped.  That was practically a Governor’s ransom.  But Unsuku continued.

“…and you. Never. Dance. Again.”  

And her body language added, _you talentless hack_.

### 

Nyoko walked to the group's table at the back of the Inn, now wanting nothing more than a stiff drink.  

She slid into a chair.  Kormick was holding forth while Savina and Twiggy listened intently.

"...and I look forward to the day when everyone sees Dar Und as equal to Pol Henna."

Savina smiled skeptically. "I think it's lovely that you want to make your home a better place, Jan," she allowed, "but to equal Pol Henna?  How could that be possible?"

"After all," chimed in Twiggy, "Pol Henna at least has a stable government, strong trade agreements..."

"Yes, yes," agreed Kormick, unperturbed. "But you're all so obsessed with class and etiquette and rank—almost as bad as these Sovereigns—and so you don't have any individual potential, any freedom of choice.  In Dar Und, it's different, and that's what will make us great.  In Dar Und, you earn your life by your own knife."

Savina and Twiggy didn't seem impressed.

"Or by your own con artistry," Kormick added. "Or your own skills at arson, your own blackmail—"

Nyoko leaned forward and cut in.  "Funny you should mention blackmail," she said.  

That got their attention.

"It's Unsuku," Nyoko continued. "The Adept who's angry at me for upstaging her."  Nyoko told them about Unsuku's threats, finding it surprisingly hard to do so dispassionately.  This betrayal felt like it came from her own family, a heartbreaking thought.  As she concluded, her voice even shook a little: "She said she'll expose us if I don't give her ten thousand in gold and—and—"

"Take your time," said Savina.  

Nyoko took a deep breath and rushed the words out.  

"—and if I don't stop dancing."  There, she'd said it.  And she hadn't known how much she loved dancing until she found herself near tears now at the thought of losing it.

"That's—that's terrible!" said Savina.

"So," added Twiggy wryly, "now we know that Unsuku has no talent _and_ no tact."  Her voice grew serious as she started thinking things through.  "We can't let her get away with this—if the Priesthood learns of our plan too early, it will ruin all our hard work and the Tide might never be stopped.  What are we going to do about it?"

"Not to worry—we have many choices," said Kormick.  "There's the quiet solution"—he mimed slitting a throat—"and the not-quiet solution"—he mimed bashing a skull with a warhammer. 

"Jan!" exclaimed Savina.

"I'm joking, mostly joking…"

"Whatever we do, it needs to be quick," Nyoko told them, "because if I don't give her what she wants by tomorrow at noon, she's going public."


----------



## ellinor

*26x01*

The room was silent.  There was a draft coming in from somewhere that hit the back of Nyoko’s neck and made the hair on her arms stand up.  She felt Savina’s comforting hand on her shoulder.

“We throw her in the lake,” Kormick suggested.

“Or we call her bluff,” Tavi said.  “Maybe she doesn’t have the proof she claims to have.”

Nyoko shook her head.  “She has enough.  If she told the Priesthood the same things she told me, the Mother Superior would end this Inquest without a second thought.”

“So we co-opt her,” Twiggy offered.  “We make it worth her while not to tell.”

“Other than giving her exactly what she wants, how do we do that?”  Nyoko asked.

Together, the group developed a plan.  Nyoko felt uncomfortable; she wished there were a way to solve this without having to rely on others.  But by the end, she was willing to proceed.

“So it’s decided,” Savina said.  “And the sooner we succeed, the sooner we’ll all be out of Cauldron, and on our way to Divine Mark.”

“The sooner we’ll _all_ be out of Cauldron?”  Nyoko asked. “You mean me too?”

“I just assumed you'd come with us,” Savina replied.  “You're kind of like family.” 

_Like family,_ Nyoko thought.  She had always thought of the Adepts as family—they were the only family she’d had, since she was barely old enough to remember.  But Savina was right; in a way, this curious group of heathens had become like family.  She hadn’t thought of leaving Cauldron again, not really, but was there anyone in Cauldron who would say what Savina just said?  Nyoko’s eyes clouded, and she blinked, and blinked again.  To the heathens, she was sure, it merely looked like she blinked a lot.  But Nyoko was an Adept, and those blinks were as close as an Adept ever got to bawling.

###

Unsuku had been angry.  Now she was worried.

For many years, she’d had a good thing going here in Cauldron.  She had been the Governor of her own little Province.  As the premiere Adept dancer in the city, she was respected, admired, and desired.  She was paid handsomely for her skills on the dance floor, and even more handsomely for her skills in, ahem, other arenas.  And since those other arenas were a side business, she was not required to hand over any of those earnings to the Adept Chapterhouse.  By the time her Five Year vows were up, she would be able to retire in a luxury rare for someone not of the Peerage, performing (in either arena) only as she saw fit to maintain her wealth, power, and reputation.

And then Nyoko came along.

Unsuku had never taken any notice of Nyoko before.  She was Lord Masa’s little protégé, and had never shown any real interest in Dance.  She had never been a threat, and so Unsuku had never paid her any attention.

Until Masa had asked the little rat to dance the Dance of Sedellus.  Unsuku had been expecting to dance that part herself.  She’d been counting on it.  Public exposure was critical for her.  But instead, all the noteworthies of Cauldron had seen Nyoko dance.  And they had loved her.  *Loved* her!  How dare they love her?  Unsuku had spotted almost half a dozen glaring errors in poise and finger positioning, but no one else seemed to notice or care.

And because of that performance, Nyoko was asked to perform in her stead at Lord Tanaka’s Indulgence Party, one of the most lucrative events of Unsuku’s year.  That was the final straw.  Nyoko was usurping Unsuku’s rightful place and brazenly stealing her patrons.  That simply could not be allowed to stand.

So Unsuku had taken action.  

Some might consider blackmail an ugly word, but Unsuku considered it an effective one.  

She didn’t really care what Nyoko and the heathens were up to or why, or what effect informing the Mother Superior on them would have.  All she wanted was what was rightfully hers.  That, and to make it clear—to Nyoko and everyone else—who the premiere Adept dancer in Cauldron was.

And so she had not, in any way, expected to be summoned before the Inquisition.

It was only then that Unsuku began to wonder if maybe she ought to have cared a bit more about what Nyoko and her heathens were up to and why.

Unsuku was led into the Hall of the Inquisition, past a row of offices, and into a side hallway with an unassuming door.  Nyoko was waiting there for her, along with the heathens.  All looked at her with hostility.  

“I have taken precautions, you know,” Unsuku said, determined not to let them see how unsettled she was.  “If anything happens to me, if I die or disappear. . . your plan goes straight to the Mother Superior.”

One of the heathens rolled her eyes.  Unsuku couldn’t be certain, but it seemed for a moment as if her armor hissed as she did so.

The door opened. Unsuku entered, followed by the heathens.  It was a small room, containing a makeshift divan surrounded by papers.  Lord Ono was propped up on an elbow on the divan, reading something.  

He did not appear nearly as sick as she had heard.  

“Unsuku, I presume,” he said.

She nodded.

“My Inquest is in need of an additional Adept to bear Witness,” Lord Ono said.  “They have specifically requested you.” 

Unsuku blinked. 

Unsuku’s mind raced as Lord Ono filled her in on the details of the Inquest.  As much as she detested Nyoko, it was, she had to admit, a brilliant move.  If she became an official part of the Inquest, everything she had planned to blackmail Nyoko with would be protected under Witness.  As an Adept, she would be bound not to reveal what she knew—and whatever else Unsuku was, she was still an Adept.  The leverage she held over Nyoko would be lost. 

“Anyone who helps us will surely gain the favorable attention of Lady Akiko-san,” said one of the heathens.  

“And anyone who _hinders_ us will gain Lady Akiko-san’s attention, as well,” said another.

Unsuku’s mind slid past the threat and thought the story forward.  The group would report its findings to Lady Akiko-san, the overall Head of the Inquisition, in Divine Mark… who is also the Lord High Regent’s heir.  A chance to be cast as the mentor who taught Nyoko everything she knew… to come to the attention of the woman who would soon be the Lord High Regent… to entice the notice of the Peerage of Divine Mark…

Nyoko was welcome to be the premiere dancer in Cauldron.  Unsuku would be the premiere dancer in _all of the Sovereignty._

This was *much* better than blackmail.

Well… almost.  There was one thing missing…

Unsuku listened quietly as Lord Ono finished explaining the situation.  “I will accept your offer,” Unsuku said, fixing her gaze on Lord Ono, “on one condition.  *I* will be the Chief Witness on these proceedings, and Nyoko will be my junior.”

Off to the side, she heard Nyoko’s intake of breath, and knew that she had struck home.

“That doesn’t make sense,” one of the heathen girls said. “Nyoko has been Witnessing this Inquest since the beginning, she should have seniority—“

“That is the point, Twiggy-san,” Nyoko said.  “She wishes to force me into a subordinate role. It is not intended to make sense.  It is intended to put me in my place.”

Unsuku said nothing.

“Oh,” the heathen said. “Well then… I guess, Nyoko, it’s up to you.”

The heathens all looked at Nyoko, who did not take her eyes off Unsuku.  _You would let the Affirmation fail_, her body language said.  _You would see the will of the Lord High Regent defied, just to get back at me?_

_And I’d smile while I did it,_ Unsuku’s body language replied.

Nyoko held her gaze.  For a moment, just a moment, Unsuku began to wonder if she had pushed too far…

_How sad you are_, Nyoko said with her body, but her mouth said “Fine.”

Unsuku smiled.  

“Excellent,” she said.  “Then as Chief Witness, I believe it is Nyoko’s duty to convey to me everything she has so far seen…”

_DM’s Note: Okay, yeah, so I totally expected them to throw Unsuku in the lake to shut her up.  Or stick her in a cell in the basement of the Inquisition next to Kameo.  I had her all statted out for a big fight as a funky, shifty solo skirmisher. 

I did not, under any circumstance, expect them to turn her into a Party NPC.

Which actually worked out great, as she was a lot of fun to play.  But the moral here is, as usual, to never, never, never underestimate the desire of my players to avoid violent solutions…_


----------



## Falkus

> Which actually worked out great, as she was a lot of fun to play. But the moral here is, as usual, to never, never, never underestimate the desire of my players to avoid violent solutions…




I know the feeling all too well. DnD Fourth, Shadowrun and, as of recently, Zeitgeist; the lengths that my players will go to in order to resolve situations non-violently is impressive! Not that I'm complaining! It's a lot more fun RPing the negotiations and skullduggery than it is a straight up knock down fight!


----------



## spyscribe

ellinor said:


> _DM’s Note: Okay, yeah, so I totally expected them to throw Unsuku in the lake to shut her up.  Or stick her in a cell in the basement of the Inquisition next to Kameo.  I had her all statted out for a big fight as a funky, shifty solo skirmisher.
> 
> I did not, under any circumstance, expect them to turn her into a Party NPC._



You mean throwing her in the lake was a viable option!?!  I totally would have gotten behind that!


----------



## Ilex

*Happy Birthdays*

There's a trio of Halmae-related birthdays that cluster around this time of year:  Jenber, spyscribe, and Thatch.  Happy birthday (give or take a few days), fellow players!  Bagels, soup, quail eggs, and those weird masks with the pointy noses for everyone!


----------



## Kuritaki

Happy birthdays to you!  *Lots of candies, cakes and goodies!*


----------



## Falkus

Happy multiple birthdays!


----------



## spyscribe

Many thanks, Ilex!  And happy birthday (belated and early) to Jenber and Thatch.


----------



## ellinor

*26x02*

*WEEK 10 | MONDAY*

“Your man is free,” Kormick told Daisuki.  They were sitting at Daisuki’s regular table at the Inn of Generous Portions, eating stew and drinking a delicious, if thin, beer.  “As far as the Eighths are concerned, the whole matter of the fixed matches on Ehkt’s Judgment is resolved.”

Daisuki nodded.  “You’re a good man, Kormick.”  

Kormick took a swig of beer.  “I have a message for you,” he said, holding out a piece of paper.



> I have asked my emissary, Jan Kormick, to convey this ceremonial dagger bearing the seal of Dar Und.  I believe we have much in common, and look forward to future relations between Dar Und and the Eighths of Cauldron.  Please feel free to communicate through Kormick; I trust him in all matters, as I am sure you will as well.
> 
> Lukas von Volken




“Lukas von Volken—he is the one who insists he is not a King?  The one known as Four Fathoms, right?”  Daisuki asked Kormick, as he took the dagger and examined its blade. 

“Some people call him that,” Kormick replied.

“I suppose that’s because his enemies are all four fathoms deep?”

Kormick chuckled.  “Because when you pull an enemy’s intestines out, they’re four fathoms long.”

Daisuki guffawed.  “Perhaps we do have a lot in common.”

###

*TUESDAY*

At the Adept infirmary, Savina packed ice around Nyoko’s sore ankle.  “It looks to me like the Dance of the Sevenfold Secrets is a taxing one,” she commented.  

Nyoko nodded.  “It’s not something that one usually learns in three weeks,” she said.

“Will you be able to prepare it in time for the indulgence party?”  Savina asked, concerned.

“Oh, I’ll learn it, if only to prove Unsuku wrong,” Nyoko replied.  “I know the steps already.  It’s just a matter of practicing it until it feels easy.  I should feel comfortable enough to accept the invitation soon.  Iwai-sensei says the only thing I’m missing is a connection with the audience.”  

Out of the corner of her eye, Savina noticed one of the Adept healers whom she had seen earlier using distinctive Alirrian techniques.  _A connection with the audience,_ Savina thought.  She missed feeling a connection to a community of Alirrians.  As far as Savina could tell, there was not a single Alirrian in Cauldron other than herself willing to expose their faith.

Savina took a chance and approached the healer.  “I was thinking,” she said, “in the spirit of the Affirmation, of holding a regular Alirrian prayer service at dawn in the courtyard of the Inn of Comfortable Repose.  If I did that, do you think anyone would come?”

“Maybe,” the Adept healer said, with an almost-imperceptible shrug.  

“Well, if you know anyone you think would be interested, please feel free to let them know about it.  I’d welcome them.”

Without a word, the Adept moved on to another patient.

Savina resolved to hold dawn prayer services every morning until somebody showed up.

###

*WEDNESDAY *

At the Fortune Riders’ temple, Tavi stared across the table at a sweaty man. Tavi was trying to decide how much to bet on the next die roll.  _It’s a game of chance,_ Tavi thought.  _You won’t change the dice by changing how much you bet._  He stared at the Sedellan symbols on the wall, and took a small cup of rice wine from the tray of a well-dressed priestess.  Phoebe darted above him.  Bet it all! Bet it all! 

At Tavi’s left, Arden was flipping a chip over her fingers and sharing knowing glances with other gamblers’ servants—the kind of glances that mean “look at this idiot nobleman, spending money on cheap thrills.”  The kind of glances that would help maintain her cover with the Tide.  At Tavi’s right, Mena’s eyes were peeled for influential marks to stand across the table, gamble, and leave to spread the fable of Octavian di Raprezzi, man of indulgent tastes.  Rose stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder encouragingly.  _I’m not here to win,_ he thought, _ I’m here to look good_.

Tavi leaned back and pushed his whole stack of chips into the center of the table.  

###

*THURSDAY*

“Those Harbingers are interesting!”  Twiggy exclaimed as she flopped down on the divan at the Inn of Comfortable Repose.  

Mena had known Twiggy for the better part of the girl’s life.  She thought of the girl as a good student, and generally sensible.  Getting better all the time, surely.  But every once in a while the girl let loose with a statement that just didn’t make sense.

“Harbingers? Interesting?”  Mena raised an eyebrow.

“Yes!  I was there today—we do need to build relationships with the Sedellans through something other than Tavi’s gambling—and we spent all afternoon talking philosophically about the Affirmation.”  Mena recognized the girl’s enthusiasm, even if she was wary of the girl’s seeming affection for a group of Sedellans.  

Twiggy continued without a breath.  “The Harbingers depend on the Affirmation for their very existence in Cauldron, and yet they still are not confident that it is the way of the future here.  The Harbingers’ goal is to help people through changes, so if the Affirmation ends, then they’ll work to ease the transition for people who find that traumatic.  If the Affirmation is here to stay, then they’ll have a whole other group of people to console.”

“Tidesmen,” Mena sighed.

Twiggy was still talking.  “So I spent the day trying to convince them that the Affirmation is the way of the future, and that the Harbingers should work to make people comfortable with that so that they don’t follow the Tide and create eddies of discord in the winds of change.  So to speak.  I said that even if the Affirmation might end someday, it would still be the Harbingers’ role to help calm the people who didn’t like it right now.  The woman in charge of the Harbingers, Sister Gentle Breeze, is very nice.  And very thoughtful, although I don’t know if I got through to her.  I want to go back tomorrow to bring her a book I read at the Adept house, one of the histories of the Lord High Regent, which has a very interesting passage about the nature of change in the Sovereignty.”

Mena sighed and sat down on the divan next to Twiggy.  “Have I ever told you that you’re a good student?”

“Yes,” said Twiggy, “but I don’t mind hearing it again.”

###

*FRIDAY*

Arden dipped her spoon into the familiar soup at the Inn of Agreeable Company as she waited for Shen to arrive.  She was there to advance her infiltration of the Tide and to spread misinformation in the hope of hampering their progress—but it felt futile.  As before, the Tide still wouldn't trust her with their plans unless she agreed to kill for them. And because she wouldn't do that, Lord Ono had nearly died; she hadn't known enough to warn him.  _So be it_, she told herself. She felt no guilt about the entirely justifiable decision to be non-murderous, no matter what happened to Lord Ono—but she was frustrated.  Deeply frustrated.  

 Shen opened the door and bounced into the booth.  She was alarmingly giddy.  “We’ve pulled off a great one this time,” she said, excitement radiating from her face.

“Yes, it's certainly the end for Lord Ono,” Arden replied, playing along.

“Not Lord Ono,” Shen responded.  “Something else.  I can’t give you details… but it’s good.  All of Cauldron will hear about it.  Count on it.”

“When?”  Arden demanded, letting her frustration animate her voice while resisting the urge to begin thudding her head against the table.  _This sounds exactly like before Ono was poisoned. Gods, give me something to work with here…_  “I can’t wait to find out what’s planned.”  

“Not ‘planned,’” Shen grinned.  “It’s already _done_.”


----------



## ellinor

*26x03*

Happy pre-Thanksgiving!  I'd like to express my heartfelt thanks to all of you for reading and commenting.  In anticipation of the holiday and to say thanks, here's a longer-than-usual update...




*SUNDAY*

Twiggy stood alone, waiting outside the closed gates of the headquarters of the Ring of the Military.  She felt very exposed.  _I can do this,_ she tried to reassure herself.  _I know how to play Go; I can play the sorts of unorthodox strategies Lady Mochizuki enjoys.  I don’t have to win, and anyway, I’ve played with her before.  The only difference between then and now is that this time I have to convince her to support our efforts to go the long way around the Circle._

It didn’t make her feel better.  _I need to practice my pep-talks,_ she thought.

A guard finally appeared and led her across well-appointed parade grounds to Lady Mochizuki’s office chambers.  The walls were covered with maps of the Sovereignty and the Halmae.  Baskets of scrolls surrounded her desk.  The room was crowded and yet, somehow, ordered.  In one corner lay a Go board and two cushions.  

“Welcome,” said Lady Mochizuki.  

_A woman of few words,_ thought Twiggy, and resisted the urge to babble about the weather, and the manicured look of the military compound, and the scrolls in Lady Mochizuki’s office, and . . .  “I appreciate the invitation.”

Lady Mochizuki offered Twiggy a cup of tea, and they sat down to a game.  It was quieter and more intimate than their last, but no easier.  Twiggy made a few mistakes early, but Lady Mochizuki did not cut her down, as she could have.  She let Twiggy recover, and in the end, although Lady Mochizuki won definitively, Twiggy felt like she hadn’t bored her opponent.

“I was curious to see what you’d do when backed into a corner,” Lady Michizuki said, as the game drew to a close.

“Sometimes the corners are the most interesting places,” Twiggy said, and sensed her opening.  “In fact, my friends and I have found ourselves in an interesting kind of corner.  I learned to play Go because we need your help.”  

Lady Mochizuki paused for a long time.  Twiggy cast about in her mind for something to say, hoping she hadn’t just ruined everything.  But just as she opened her mouth to continue, Lady Mochizuki responded.  “You have laid an intriguing new piece on the board.”

“I’m glad you think so,” replied Twiggy.  “The situation is this.  I presume you have heard of the group calling itself the Restless Tide of the One True Path?”

Lady Mochizuki nodded, warily.

“My friends and I have learned that the Tide controls the Ring of the Priesthood,” Twiggy said.  Lady Mochizuki kept her emotions in check with perfect Sovereign decorum, but Twiggy noticed the General’s mouth twitch just as it had when Twiggy had made her most daring move during the game.  “We are working with the Inquisition against the Tide," Twiggy continued.  "But we must go the long way around the Circle if we wish to defeat them.”

Lady Mochizuki frowned.  “You are a bold player, Signora.  You are attempting to take a very well-defended piece.  Am I to understand you are requesting my aid against the Priesthood?”

“Yes,” said Twiggy, attempting her most confident tone.  “But to be clear, this is not a request for your charity.  Helping us is in your interest.  The Tide has made an attempt on the life of Lord Ono.  History is littered with assassination attempts against leaders like yourself, attempts that have torn countries apart.  Together we can stop a civil war before it begins.”  

Lady Mochizuki remained silent, and Twiggy could not resist adding an analogy to her own combat magic.  “You are a great war wizard.  You must see that the Tide is like a veil of illusion that makes the citizens of Cauldron fight among themselves.”

Lady Mochizuki pursed her lips thoughtfully.  “These are not unfamiliar thoughts, and you speak with no small degree of intelligence.  Therefore I assume you have a plan.”

Twiggy explained their plan in detail, including their successes thus far and their continuing attempts to develop relationships with the city’s religious leaders.  Lady Mochiuzuki stared past Twiggy for some time after Twiggy finished, no doubt playing the board forward in her mind.

Finally, she spoke.  “I must caution you about the Mother Superior.  She is a dangerous player, and when _she_ is backed into a corner, she will not hesitate to slash her way out.   But if you continue to play the Circle as well as you played Go to get my attention, you have a chance of success.  Consider the Military behind you.”

Lady Mochizuki held out her hand, and Twiggy took it.  The two thanked each other for the game, and Lady Mochizuki summoned a guard to accompany Twiggy back to the gates.

As she reached the door of the Inn of Comfortable Repose, Twiggy couldn’t resist doing a little dance.

“There you are!”  Rose said, as Twiggy opened the door.  “Tell me all about the match on the way to the Inquisition.  We’ve been summoned there by Lord Ono.”

###

Arden stood behind the others as the group crowded into Lord Ono’s broom-closet of a replacement office.  She felt an involuntary tightening in her chest as she squeezed against the room’s stone wall.  But even more unsettling than the small space was the look of anger and frustration on Lord Ono’s face as he paced back and forth across it—three steps, turn, three steps, turn—

“I’m going to assume you aren’t responsible for arresting the head of the Sedellan Church and placing her in Chief Questioner Mawu’s care?”  Lord Ono asked, as soon as Arden closed the door.

“No!”  Savina exclaimed.  “Who arrested her?  Why?  When?”

_*This* is what Shen was talking about,_ thought Arden.  When she’d returned to the group with Shen’s gleeful pronouncement, they’d all been worried…but how could they have guessed it would be the incarceration—and torture—of the leader of the Sedellans in Cauldron?  

Lord Ono explained what little he knew:  Sister Sweet Scent had—without his knowledge or approval—been arrested by the Inquisition, on orders from the Priesthood.  Apparently someone (obviously the Tide) had made allegations against her in connection with the fixed matches at the Trials—something the group was quite sure she had nothing to do with.

_Not just an incarceration,_ Arden thought, _ but a wrongful one._  It was infuriating, as well as a demonstration of just how fragile their whole plan was.  One word from the Priesthood, and Sister Sweet Scent was being poked and prodded—or worse—by Mawu.  If they couldn’t fix this, the Sedellans would riot in the streets.  Rightfully.  And be massacred for it. 

Lord Ono continued.  “I’ve ordered that she be released and that her Inquest be called off.  I presented the evidence you collected in connection with the Trials-fixing, which established unequivocally that the Eighths bore sole responsibility.  The Inquisition has made an official finding that neither Sister Sweet Scent, nor anyone affiliated with the Fortune Riders, is guilty of any heresy.  By now, she should be returned to the care of her own people.  But by the time I found out, she’d been in Mawu-san’s care for days.”

“Is she well?”  Savina gasped.

“Knowing Mawu-san,” Lord Ono replied, “I’d imagine she is still… functional.” 

“So the whole thing is resolved now?”  Kormick asked.  “She’s back with her people, and it’s squared away?” 

“It’s not that easy,” Lord Ono said.

“It never is,” Arden muttered.  Mena smiled, ever so slightly.  

Lord Ono continued.  “Normally a person of such standing would not be given over for Questioning quite so immediately.  There are protocols, procedures, processes, what have you.  But someone in the Inquisition fast-tracked the investigation.  They knew when the papers were coming in and they signed off on an expedited Inquest without consulting me or Lady Ono-san.  That means that beyond any doubt, that the Tide have operatives in this Inquisition.  I’ll give you all of the documents—the record of arrest, questioning, and so forth—but I’ll need you to get to the bottom of this.” 

###

*WEEK 11 | MONDAY*

Mena took a deep breath and put her hand on the hilt of her ceremonial flail as she stood at the door of the Harbingers’ headquarters.  Mena _really_ didn’t like the Harbingers.  She couldn’t abide a sect that was just as comfortable with change for the worse as it was with change for the better.  And she knew they wouldn’t spare any affection for her.  _It’s hard to like someone whose sect is dedicated to loathing your God,_ Mena reflected.

Regardless, she had to meet with the Sedellans.  Lord Ono had arranged for the release of Sister Sweet Scent, but the Sedellans were—understandably—still angry.  And angry Sedellans did nothing to advance the cause of the Affirmation.  It was imperative that they understand that the Inquisition was not responsible for her wrongful detention.  Assuaging the Sedellans had become the group’s top priority—assuming the Sedellans would listen.

“I’m happy to introduce you to their leader,” Twiggy said.  “I think she likes me.”

Twiggy barely had the chance to say “This is my teach—” when Mena stepped forward.  “Dame Philomena of the Defiers of the Wind,” Mena said, and slammed the hilt of her flail down against the woman’s desk for emphasis.  She was cranky—not only about what the Tide had done to Sister Sweet Scent, but also about being here, surrounded by Harbingers with their hands on their weapons.

“Your reputation precedes you,” Sister Gentle Breeze said.  “I have enjoyed conversing with your student, and am honored to meet the Defier in the Inquisition.  I wish it had been under happier circumstances.”  Sister Gentle Breeze’s words were kind, but her voice was icy.  She took a tight breath and folded her arms in a hostile, but not aggressive, stance.

“The Inquisition is not to blame for the circumstances,” Mena said, and did not wait for an answer.  “The arrest was the work of the Tide.  The circumstances will be righted, or I will die trying.”

“I should hope it does not come to that,” Sister Gentle Breeze said, her voice still cold.  “But as your student will tell you, we see little principled distinction between the Tide and the Inquisition.  Each may be an agent of change or of stagnation.”

Mena scowled.  “The distinction is that I intend to hunt down the Tidesmen responsible for Sister Sweet Scent’s arrest.  Remember that.”

Mena gripped her flail, turned, and left.  

###

*TUESDAY*

“You are an Inquisitor,” the Twilight Sister said to Savina, “and an Alirrian.  Why would you want to help us?”  

Savina was standing in the doorway of the House of the Twilight Sisters.  They had let her in, but hadn’t exactly been inviting.  “I am concerned for the health of Sister Sweet Scent,” Savina replied.  “I have read the Inquisition report.  I know that she was held by Mawu.  I am sure it was not pleasant.  I am a healer.  If Sister Sweet Scent is injured in any way . . .”

The Twilight Sister interrupted her.  “Thank you for the kind offer, but the matter of Sister Sweet Scent’s health is well in hand.”  

“If I could meet her, tend to her—” Savina remained polite, but she felt desperate.  _How can we explain to Sister Sweet Scent that we are trying to help, if we can’t get anywhere near her?_ she thought.

The Twilight Sister put her hand on the doorframe in a gentle suggestion that it was time for Savina to be on her way.

As she turned to leave, Savina stopped.  “You should know that the arrest of Sister Sweet Scent was ordered by the Priesthood.  Someone falsified paperwork to worsen the conditions of her Inquest.  Please know that the Inquisition is not your enemy.”

Savina noticed the slightest light of recognition—and maybe even appreciation—in the Twilight Sister’s eyes.  

###

*WEDNESDAY*

Nyoko was as worried as everyone else about what had happened with Sister Sweet Scent—but she knew she couldn’t fix it.  _What I can fix,_ she told herself, _is my balance on the fourth note of the 17th phrase._  It was progress, she knew, to be able to focus on details—but she needed to get it right.  

The previous evening, she had officially accepted her invitation to dance the Dance of the Sevenfold Secrets at Lord Tanaka’s Indulgence Party, and had asked when it would take place.  The group needed that information in order to be prepared for what they hoped would be a persuasive meeting with the head of Lands—but the event was so secretly run that the date and location were kept under wraps until just before the event.  Kormick’s contact at the Eighths had let slip that it would take place on a weekend, but Nyoko wanted to know how soon that weekend would come.  “I need time to refine my performance,” she explained. 

“Is a week enough time for refinement?”  The man had asked.  

“One can always refine more,” Nyoko responded, “but a week is sufficient.”

“Then you’ll have more than enough refinement,” the man had replied, with a glint in his eye, as harsh as it was mischevious.  

_So it’s more than a week away,_ Nyoko thought, _and when it comes, I’d better be refined._

###

*FRIDAY*

Tavi threw up his hands and barked angrily at the Teleport Center guard.  “Where is it?”  Tavi gesticulated at a piece of paper.  “It’s written right here.  Wool, jewelweed, and fennel.  They should have arrived at noon.  I don’t see them.” 

The guard apologized profusely.  It was all going according to plan. 

While Savina and Mena were out trying to counteract the effects of the Tide’s offenses against the Sedellans, Tavi was working on a plan to confound whatever the Tide had planned next.  _What’s done is done,_ he thought, _but the future is flexible._ 

Twiggy had made a list of strange arcane components and fragmented instructions for what a skilled arcanist would instantly recognize as a variation on a scrying spell.  The instructions were useless, but they looked enough like a sorcerer’s notes that even someone with training would trust their arcane value.  Tavi had ordered them from various places around the Halmae, sending letters and payment through the Teleport network.

Arden had taken the paper, crumpled and dirty as if she'd had to steal it, to her Tide contact.  She told Shen that her masters had developed some magical means of detecting Tide operatives, and—once they had all of the components for the spell—would be able to scry the locations of Tidesmen, find their hiding places, and listen in on their activities.  

It had worked.  A shipment of cats-eye stones had been stolen the day before, and now the Tide had, clearly, devoted resources to stealing the other worthless components.  _And the more time they spend foiling our non-existent plans_, Tavi thought, _the less time they spend forwarding their own…_

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Tavi announced, loudly enough for the furtive Tide spy he’d noticed outside to overhear, “and my fennel had better be here by then.”


----------



## Ilex

*27x01*

Hi all, Ilex here. You will continue to see an irregular updating schedule for the next month or so, but rest assured that we have much more story to bring you, whenever we get around to posting it! As always, thank you so much for reading!



Kormick breezed into the small inn where the Eighths ran their business, Arden slinking behind him.  

His contact was sitting at the usual table with the usual drink; Kormick flopped into the chair opposite and waved for his usual stew.  "You called?" he said to the man.

"You've solved one problem for us," said the man. "Now we've got another."

"Happy to serve," Kormick said, "provided that you remember my good deeds in the future."

"Of course," said the man. "There's a merchant here in town, just a small-time dealer with a marketplace stall. But he's a troublesome element—"

"—meaning he doesn't pay you your… rightful percentage?"

"Something like that.  To make matters worse, he's impossible to reason with."

"A tough guy?"

"No… a dwarf who can't seem to master the language."

Behind him, Kormick heard a strange noise.  It was Arden.  Growling.

“I… believe we can take care of him,” Kormick said.

###



> To Stefan von Horkheimer, First Lieutenant of Lukas of Dar Und, from Emissary and Justicar Jan Kormick
> 
> My Dear Bloody Ear,
> 
> Old friend, I write to introduce you to the bearer of this letter, one Vatik Rockminder, a.k.a. Fungusfinder, a dwarven huckster.  I expect magnificent things of him in Dar Und.
> 
> My comrades and I have encountered Vatik more than once in the Sovereign marketplaces of Lord's Edge and Cauldron. Each time, he has been unfailingly incomprehensible, vulgar, and (when we could understand him) dishonest.  He has driven our poor murder slave—the one I told you about—to the point of distraction, which means Vatik is lucky not to have a dagger in each orifice.  (The murder slave is so very endearing when something's driving her crazy.  She quivers with suppressed murderous rage.)
> 
> Vatik recently got himself on the wrong side of Cauldron's alternative government, the Eighths, who consequently wanted him run out of town or stabbed repeatedly.  They asked me to take care of him, so, along with the murder slave, the esteemed Alirrian priestess Savina, and Dame Mena the Beautiful and Terrifying, I sought him out in the market.  He was a sad sight: _droopier_ than we'd seen him before, with his stall now nothing more than a turned-over box and a single torn burlap bag of trinkets.  His illiterate patter showed minor improvement, in that he'd learned to say "bargains" rather than "bagels," but when he started to holler about "good fornication" to potential customers… well, let's just say that the Sovereignty, with its excessive fixation on politeness and decorum, had not been kind to him.
> 
> After he evaded our questions as usual, I explained to him that, as an Inquisitor carrying a couple of large and lethal hammers, I really, _really_ wanted to know what he was doing there.  (I didn't mention the Eighths yet.  As Brother Scribe insists, it's always sensible to _try_ the most legal solution first.)
> 
> "My buttocks are free for all to see," he responded proudly.
> 
> Signora Savina and Dame Mena tried addressing him in Dwarven, but he refused to answer, claiming he only wanted to speak Common.  I advised him that he could speak Dwarven now or he could scream it later, his choice.
> 
> He didn't answer directly—he just shoved a smelly pile of matted fur into my hands while declaring that it was a gift to make yours truly, his new best friend, "moan with pleasure."  It turned out to be a functional, if ugly, magically protective cloak.  The attempted bribery was the first competent move he'd made.  Sure enough, it wasn't long before he started muttering in Dwarven.  Dame Mena informs me that his accent was crisp and upper-class as he asked himself, "Why in the name of the seven hells do I end up in these human towns?"
> 
> Now that we were finally having a conversation, I offered—with Mena translating—to help him out with his little Eighths problem.
> 
> "Ah, I see," he responded. "This is a shakedown."
> 
> "No," I clarified, through patiently gritted teeth, "this is the friendly warning _before_ the shakedown. We are here to chat with you, not kill you."
> 
> "'Chat' … is the good one?" he asked Mena. (Be advised: his language skills still need work.  He told us that some generous Sovereign traders had taught him the basic merchant's lexicon of "fornicate," "buttocks," deals that make one "moan with pleasure," etc.  Yes.  Very generous of them.)
> 
> We explained that he had best go home immediately to his fellow Rockminders (though I wondered how those honor-obsessed folk would receive him).  He got squirmy and squirreled around for a minute before admitting that he was less of a "Rockminder" and more of a "Fungusfinder"…apparently a less prestigious family line in the dwarven world.  He'd gotten good at conning people into believing that he was higher class than he really was.
> 
> Signora Savina suggested, adorably, that he might go to her home city of Pol Henna and set up a legitimate business. It was a generous offer, but I wasn't surprised when he squirreled around some more before admitting that he might… just maybe… have some legal problems that might follow him into certain human cities on the Peninsula.
> 
> Savina, determined to persuade him to take up honest living, invited him to join us for a light lunch while we continued to chat.  Yes, yes, I can imagine you groaning, old friend, and no, I am never taking Savina with me on a shakedown again.
> 
> At any rate, Vatik eventually clarified that, like all dwarves, he has a finely honed and painstakingly practiced craft, but unlike most dwarves his craft is the art of the con.  Among his own people, he'd done a general trade in the procurement of desired items, and he'd specialized in something he called "The Deep Shaft"—selling tapped-out mines to unsuspecting buyers for huge sums, then arranging an accident for said buyers, then repeating the procedure. At some point, his reputation began to precede him, and eventually he found himself driven into the Sovereignty.
> 
> Savina tried one final time to inspire him to commit to an honest life, at which point the murder slave lost her self-control, begged us to turn him over to the authorities, realized her mistress was too nice for that, rolled her eyes, and quietly chortled to indicate either her cynical resignation to the vagaries of life or her impending mental breakdown.  And _I_ stepped in to offer to write this very letter.  This was, clearly, one of those rare and precious times when a letter of recommendation from me would be far more useful than a letter of recommendation from Signora Savina di Infusino.
> 
> With that, we bought a few of his trinkets in order to give him gold to pay for teleportation to Dar Und. The murder slave has announced that she will refuse to let him out of her sight until she sees him safely magicked away into your welcoming arms.
> 
> And thus I write to introduce you to Mr. Vatik Fungusfinder, a clever and honorably dishonest dwarf whose calling and high craft may be of great service to Dar Und.  Please give him a chance.  If he works out, wonderful.  If not, or if his idiotic malapropisms become tiresome rather than hilarious, kill him. I've warned him that the cost of errors in judgment is higher in my homeland than just about anywhere else.
> 
> Your pal,
> Two Knocks
> 
> P.S.: This is surely the kindest way I've ever run anybody out of town.  You and I were almost as kind to Red Friedrich, but I bet he still whines about missing his thumb.


----------



## Rughat

Hilarious!  However, I'm confused - why does the murder sla... excuse me, *Arden*, hate Vatik?


----------



## Ilex

Rughat said:


> Hilarious!  However, I'm confused - why does the murder sla... excuse me, *Arden*, hate Vatik?




Hee. If you click on the "Lord's Edge" link, you'll see that Vatik annoys/unnerves Arden because she can't figure him out, but she's pretty sure he represents trouble. And then she can't figure him out for a second time, but is still pretty sure he represents trouble, when he shows up in Cauldron.

Three strikes, he's out.  

If what you are now thinking is, "I clicked those links, and while that explains the basics, I still don't see why she's _that_ irritated by this obviously harmless and hilarious scoundrel," then congratulations on a high Insight roll.  There's an additional dimension to Arden's response, but you don't know enough about her yet to know what that might be.


----------



## Rughat

Ah.... I had remembered the two incidents, but yes, I was assuming there had been some other interaction to cause Arden to become so arduously interested in murdering the poor dwarf.  I look forward with interest to learning the subtext!


----------



## WisdomLikeSilence

*Crazy Epic Game Last Night*

Not only was it an amazing game, with one of the most brutal combats I've ever seen, but Jenber and Fajitas managed to make me cry.  And not from the beating our characters were getting, but from the amazing roleplaying and intense emotions of the scene.  Tears on my face and needing a tissue and everything.

So, gentle readers, know that the story is continuing, and there are some wonderful twists to come.


----------



## Kuritaki

Can't wait to read about it!


----------



## Jenber

Kuritaki said:


> Can't wait to read about it!




There are many truly wonderful (and terrifying and utterly mind-boggling) things that before that session, too, so there will be a veritable feast coming to a story hour near you.

Hats off to Fajitas for creating a world so real it makes his players cry.


----------



## Neurotic

bump?!


----------



## Ilex

*27x02*

And... we're back. It's been a while, so allow me to remind you that the party is beginning Week 12 of the multi-session, devilishly long "Skill Cascade" designed by our insane but wonderful GM. Machinations and intrigue abound...

*WEEK 12 | MONDAY*

With Nyoko's information that the top-secret Indulgence Party held by the head of Lands was coming up soon, the group was scrambling for invitations: this was likely to be their one chance to speak privately to the head of Lands about their mission to stop the Tide.

Arden followed Kormick, once again, to the Eighths' tavern, where she watched as the criminals toasted him for his successful removal of the dwarf Vatik.  Kormick skillfully turned their praise into a more general acknowledgement that he was the best possible Inquisitor for the Eighths to be friends with.  Riding the wave of their approval, he then insinuated that, in addition to his personal services, his Undian connections might be honored to provide  them—or wealthy clients of theirs—with exotic foreign narcotics and alcohol … smuggled, of course… very elite, very secret … 

The Eighths boss leaned back, a gleam in his eye.  "I may have just the client, in fact," he said.  "Don't speak of this on the streets, but this very weekend there is to be a… party of sorts…" 

Arden admired Kormick's skill.  At the same time, she remembered the old nickname she'd given him.  _Alleged the Just,_, she thought, lowering her eyes to the mud-smeared flagstone floor, worn into grooves by generations of boots.  _I will never understand all the ways of Kettenek, not as long as I live._ 

*TUESDAY*

Twiggy stifled a yawn as she helped Savina and Rose post a copy of the Affirmation in the unused stone courtyard where Savina had resolved to hold Alirrian dawn services every morning.  The light was palest gray, but the pre-dawn air was already warm, promising a hot summer day to come.  

Practically speaking, Savina was attempting to reach out to the city's underground Alirrian population, who had been living in secret fear since the brutal massacre of Alirrian monks in Cauldron in the dark days before the Affirmation.  Less practically speaking, Twiggy suspected that this was a meaningful moment for Savina—her first time leading morning services, ever—and Twiggy wanted to support her.  

It was well that she and Rose were there, because no one else was.  Savina gave a little nervous look around, then smiled self-consciously at them.  "I had an idea," she said, "if you don't mind waiting a moment more." She began to cast a ritual.  Twiggy watched with interest, quickly recognizing it as _Bloom_, the same ritual Savina had cast at the ruined Alirrian spring.  The cracks in the courtyard's old stone came to life, green sprigs spouting forth in all directions.  In minutes, the yard was alive with flowering bushes and climbing vines.

"It's beautiful," said Twiggy.

"It's a better worship space," said Savina, "even if it's just us—"

There was a thudding of boots, and they both looked up to see who was arriving.  To Twiggy's not-entirely-complete astonishment, Kormick skidded into the courtyard.

"Ah, I'm too late," he said.

"No," said Savina, smiling broadly. "You're just in time."

"Ah.  Magnificent. I happened to be awake, and I was thinking of—so don't let me hold you up.  Continue."  

Twiggy knew, from talking to Kormick, that Savina reminded him of his lost sister.  Perhaps even he believed that his attendance was coincidence—but Twiggy knew that he was here because he cared.  For a moment, she forgot to dwell on what a difficult task remained ahead.  She looked from the panting man to the smiling priestess and felt deeply, wonderfully glad that these were her companions.

*WEDNESDAY*

"It says _what_?" Mena demanded.  

Nyoko looked down at the black card in her hands and re-read the gold-leafed script.  "'The Adept Nyoko is invited this Saturday, midnight, to the'… it's a strange address, I think it's on the lakefront? anyway … 'and, per her request, to be accompanied by her lovely and exotic personal guard, Dame Filomena of Pol Henna." 

"Lovely and _exotic_?  Me??!"

Mena heard a chuckle and glared around the room.  Twiggy, holding an invitation she'd received via her apothecary friends, looked apprehensive but interested, a student waiting to see what her teacher would do next.  Tavi, however, was holding his invitation in front of his mouth, which didn't quite hide the fact that his cheeks were twitching with glee.  Rose, next to him, swallowed a single hiccup of a giggle and tried to look properly solemn.  Kormick, holding his and Arden's invitation, looked blandly innocent—but his eyes were twinkling. He was getting far too much enjoyment out of this. 

Troublemaker.

 "They will regret this," said Mena, into their silence.  "They left out 'seductive.'"

Even Arden stifled a laugh then. 

"They will regret that, indeed," said Kormick.  "I can't wait.  Which reminds me…" He threw a small jingling pouch at Arden. "If you're posing as my servant, you should dress up.  Nyoko, take the murder-slave out and get her some clothes that a dangerous person would wear." 

It was a relieving start to the afternoon: knowing that they were all—except Savina and Rose, who said they were just as happy to stay home—definitely invited to the Indulgence Party. 

The rest of the afternoon promised to be less pleasant.  Turning down a tempting offer from Twiggy and Tavi to join them researching the prophecy in the Archives, Mena set out alone for the Establishment of Great Fortunes Yet to Come, the gambling-house temple of the Sedellan Fortune Riders.  She was determined to make personal contact with Sister Sweet Scent, who had been framed by the Tide and cruelly tortured by the Inquisition, and whose support they would need to complete their task.  

She strode into the middle of the room, making no attempt to hide either her Defier symbol or the sheaf of papers in her hand.  Silence fell across the tables filled with coins and cards.  A Sedellan man approached her, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.  His face spoke of suspicion and contempt, though he said nothing.

"Sister," Mena said to him, indicating the papers, "I bring all the information we have gathered on Sister Sweet Scent's wrongful imprisonment so that she, herself, can investigate if she wishes."

The man stretched out his hand to take the papers.  Mena withheld them.  "I will give these to Sister Sweet Scent myself," she said.  "Please allow me to see her."

The man stood silently, his hand outstretched.  

A full minute dragged by until Mena sighed.  "Very well," she conceded.  "But I'll wait here until you bring me her seal as a sign that she has, in fact, received these documents."

The man snatched the papers from her hand, turned, and walked away.  He disappeared through a doorway and soon Mena heard his boots on the floor above.  They walked to a point nearly above her head, stopped for a time, and then returned.  The man reappeared in the doorway, crossed the room to Mena, and thrust a scrap of paper into Mena's hand.  On it was a Sedellan seal, the wax still warm.  

It was the best she could hope for.  Mena took the paper, nodded to the man, and went to the door.  As she stepped outside, she heard a male voice follow after her, "May the Lady's fortune be with you!"  

Mena knew it was his blessing, one she had fought to win, so she clenched her fist instead of making a superstitious gesture to turn aside a curse.  _The Lady's fortune_, she thought.  _What an irresponsible wish._

*FRIDAY*

For the fourth morning in a row, Savina looked out at her meager congregation of Rose, Twiggy, and Kormick as the sun slivered over Cauldron's rim.  She began the sunrise prayer… 

"Alirria, Mother, Lady of Dawn,
Awake in us your power…" 

…but her heart wasn't in it.  She was disappointed.  Not a single Sovereign had so much as looked in on the services yet, let alone a secret Alirrian.  And it was somehow disheartening to sense that her friends were here more to give her moral support than to honor Alirria.

"Restore in us your healing light…"

Then again, in a way, friendship was of the Lady, so perhaps Rose and Twiggy's kindness was its own form of worship.  And Kormick—Savina was certain that Alirria had plans for him.  He didn't know it, but perhaps there was a higher purpose to his attendance.

"Alirria, Sister, Lady of Spring,
Uplift us with your rising…"

It was no use.  She was saying the words, but they felt empty.  She was no priestess, not yet, just a very young woman play-acting the role of Honored Mother.  No wonder nobody came.  

Still.  Only quitting was true failure.  She held on through the end of the service and smiled bravely at her friends as she finished.

And suddenly there was a rustling among the flowering shrubs along the left wall.  A woman stepped out of hiding.  She was about twenty years older than Savina and wearing a nondescript kimono, but her air of authority was clear as she walked up. 

"Welcome, Sister," the strange woman said.

"Welcome, Mother," Savina answered.

The woman nodded acknowledgement.  "I would know why you are looking for me."

All of Savina's confidence returned in a rush like living water.  She _had_ succeeded, after all: this woman was, without doubt, the leader of the secret Alirrian worshippers in Cauldron.

"There are many reasons why the seed seeks the sun," Savina answered.  "Too long have the people here been without open guidance from the Goddess.  We're trying to change that, and we need the city's Alirrians to come forth into the light and help."

"The last time we tried such a thing, it ended in blood."

"Times have changed," said Twiggy.  "The Affirmation is truly the law now."

"A root can break a rock," added Kormick softly. 

"Any man with an axe can break a root," the woman fired back, glancing at Kormick's Kettenite warhammers.

"I am already regretting my choice to use metaphor," said Kormick. "Let me speak plainly.  Your people were horribly massacred years ago, before the Affirmation.  We know it better than you might think, because we found an old monastery and a lot of souls of your Sisters who were unable to rest.  Savina here risked her life to bring them peace.  And I say, if those wounds can be healed, maybe yours can, too.  Give us a chance."

"You found the Sharpstone Monastery?" the woman asked, looking truly impressed for the first time.  Then she shook her head. "I cannot believe it."

Savina held out the holy symbol she had received from the Alirrian spirits there.  The woman seized it and stared.  "You could have stolen this," she whispered.  "Or bought it.  If you have profaned it—"

Savina was too aware of the woman's real fear and pain to be upset by the accusation.  Instead, in a moment of inspiration, she reached into her bodice and brought forth the vial of Alirrian spring water that she had carried all this time.  "This is from the holy pool near the Monastery," Savina said, and handed it to the woman.  "Clearly it came into my hands only because it was meant for you."

She could tell that the woman could feel its power.  "I have not felt something like this since I was a young child at the Monastery*," the woman said softly. She paused, turning over the vial in her hands, then looked up with tear-filled eyes.  "What, exactly, do you wish of us?"

They explained about their struggle against the Tide, adding that an official and authentic Alirrian presence would be essential when it came time for the Synod to stand against the corrupt Mother Superior.  

"I will consult with my sisters," the woman said. "I can promise nothing.  This goes against all we have done for the last twenty years. But…" she turned the vial over in her hands once more.  "It is the season for such risks.  I will find you when I have an answer."

She turned to leave.  "Mother?" Savina asked.  "Should I—should I continue to conduct services here?"

The woman turned back.  "You should continue," she said.  "The underground river always needs new springs.  And besides—"a twinkle appeared in her eye "—you still need a lot of practice, my dear."

__
* yes, that's a link to the previous Halmae story hour by Spyscribe, and thus to the adventures of Rose's mother Lira at the Sharpstone Monastery, where she met a young girl named Satsuki...


----------



## Rughat

What, the suspicious and cautious little girl Satsuki is now leading a suspicious and cautious group of Alirrian worshippers?  Who would have guessed?

I love the connection to the old campaign - that's craftsmanship.


----------



## spyscribe

Fajitas was very sneaky about it too.  Didn't say anything to even drop a hint that it might be the same girl.

It was probably about a minute after Savina asked what her name was that I turned to him and said.  "Wait a second, _what_ did she say her name was?"

It was an incredibly satisfying Easter egg to find.  

And yes, her character has been entirely consistent.  As Fajitas pointed out, she has spent the last sixteen years telling everyone, "You see.  I was right to be paranoid!"


----------



## Fajitas

Heh.  I enjoyed the hell out of that moment.  I knew I could count on spyscribe to put that together...


----------



## Ilex

*27x03*

Arden slipped her favorite dagger into the top of her right boot, her lock picks into the top of her left, and decided she was ready.  It was strange to be wearing the finely made clothing that she'd bought with Kormick's money.  Nyoko had taken both her and Mena shopping, and as a result, Arden was wearing supple black leather leggings, tall black boots, and a form-fitting sleeveless bodice. Everything had silver buckles—which made the exposed cuff on her bare arm look almost like a bracelet--and she'd let her red hair, grown longer over the course of their journey, flow freely across her shoulders.  She liked wearing black, for once, instead of the blue and green livery of the Givers or the gray of the Inquisition.  She felt more like herself; she stood up straighter and grinned.  This might almost be fun.  Then she left the room and headed downstairs to meet the others.

As she walked into the Inn's entry hall, Tavi and Kormick were just entering from the bar.  Tavi looked rakish and handsome in a blood-red tunic that Arden guessed was made of some unspeakably expensive fabric.  Kormick looked strong and—yes—dangerous in a black leather vest beneath a swirling forest green cloak.  They both looked at her as if at a stranger.  "Signora," Tavi even said—and did a double-take, his eyes flying over her face and body before landing on her cuff.   "Arden!"

Arden froze.  "I'm sorry, Signor—"

"Don't apologize!  You look—um—" He hesitated.  "—just as you should?" he finished.  

"You look lethal," said Kormick, with frank appreciation, "in several senses of the word."

Under the men's lingering gazes, Arden couldn't help but smile a little.  It was the strangest moment, for her, of that entire long, strange night.

Later, she and Mena followed Tavi, Kormick, Nyoko, Unsuku, and Twiggy past bouncers at the door of a ramshackle building by the steaming lake, through a dark, dingy hallway, and suddenly into a cavernous room lit by strangely colored magical lamps and full of heavy incense and swirling bodies amid pillows and drapery.  

Mena was wearing black as well: a high-necked, bare-armed tunic embroidered with twining red cherry blossoms, a snug black skirt slit up to her thigh—for freedom of movement, Arden presumed—and black boots.  Her long black hair cascaded down her back.  Apparently, side-by-side, they made twice the impression: Arden felt Mena grow tense next to her as the heathen party—and particularly its two bodyguards--drew the gazes of everyone near the door.  

"Are they admiring us or scanning for weaknesses?" Mena muttered out of the side of her mouth.

"Admiring, I judge, but we could stab them to be safe," Arden muttered back.  

They exchanged a glance, and Mena cracked a smile.  "We are _not_ here to have fun," she said.

"Definitely not," agreed Arden.  She nodded toward Kormick, who somehow already had a drink in hand.  "Kormick's staring at you."

"Ehkt's balls. I _told_ Nyoko this outfit was inappropriate.  That man…"

"I could stab _him_ to be safe, but I really want to see where this thing with you two is going…"

"There is no 'thing.'" 

"…plus, if I stab him, that will only fulfill his expectations of me. It's boring."

"I'll give him a surprise.  Loan me your dagger."

"I would, except we're not here to have fun."

"Absolutely not," said Mena, locking eyes with Kormick… who had never taken his eyes from her.  They stared like two duelists, Mena with the faintest twist of a mischievous smile.  

_Alleged and the Defier,_ thought Arden. _This is going to be fun._

And with that, they were swept up into Lord Tanaka's Indulgence Party.  

###  

At the center of the cavernous main room was an empty round stage, hung about with diaphanous cloth and surrounded by rings of low velvety chairs and plush cushions. That's where Nyoko would soon be performing the dance she'd been practicing—the Dance of the Seven-Fold Secrets.  If she did well, she might win a private audience with Lord Tanaka, which was the group's whole reason for coming here at all.

As the seats around the stage filled with people—most of them wearing little but a hungry, almost animalistic aura of anticipation—Twiggy decided that she was just as happy near the back, for now.  She found Arden standing in the shadows as well, nursing a glass of something clear.

Far up front, they saw Tavi flop into a seat and settle back. Three women immediately took seats around him.  

Then there was a stir as draperies on the far wall lifted aside and Lord Tanaka, the Head of Lands, made his way into the room.  He was a large man dressed in a rich, comfortable robe, and he strode with easy confidence to a wide couch at the side of the stage.  Unsuku scurried up to walk beside him, basking in his smile of familiar greeting as the crowd made way for them both.

Arriving at his seat, Lord Tanaka accepted a glass of crimson liquid and raised it.  The room fell silent, and the sense of hungry anticipation trebled in an instant.

"From dusk to dawn, as long as everyone consents, there are no rules here," Tanaka announced, his voice rolling through the room.  "Once dawn comes, none of this has happened.  My guests, I bid you eat, drink, and seek all pleasures."

Suddenly servants were everywhere with platters of food, a pulsing music started, couples embraced, and Twiggy sensed currents of magic begin to flow about through the room.  She glimpsed Lord Tanaka leaning back into his couch with a golden platter beside him.  

A handsome man wearing… well, mostly straps… materialized at Twiggy's side and touched her arm.  "I saw you play Go," he said softly.  "You amazed me. I was wondering… have you ever been polymorphed?"

He was magical; Twiggy could feel it already. She swallowed. "With respect, that's not in my catalogue of interests," she managed.

As the man pouted prettily, Twiggy, seeking a distraction, grabbed two delicate eggs off a passing tray, handed one to Arden and popped the other into her mouth.

"What is it?" asked Arden, eyeing the offering suspiciously.

"It's good!" Twiggy said, surprised herself.  The polymorpher moved on to other prospects. 

"Quail eggs, didn't I tell you? Quail eggs!" laughed Kormick, appearing out of the crowds with a fresh drink in his hand and surveying the room. "Savina's home in bed, Arden's standing here as sexy as you could wish, and _Dame Mena is in a dress_… ah, I'm done.  I'm done." He tossed back a long swig and wandered off again.  

Twiggy envied him his complacency.  Personally, she was feeling a little overwhelmed.  Tanaka's proclamation—_no rules here_—was ringing in her mind.  When had she _ever_ known a place without any rules? And what, of all the countless options available here, did she want to do to take advantage of it…?

"What are you drinking?" she asked Arden, hoping for inspiration.

"Water."

"Oh, Arden, I think you could drink _something_ stronger," said Twiggy. "Just for this one night—"

"Someday, I hope.  But I've been told I'm a chatty drunk."

"That'd be fun!"

Arden smiled, shook her head, and sipped her water.  _Thanks for nothing,_ Twiggy thought, even more firmly resolved that—once she could be sure the group achieved its goal with Lord Tanaka—she was going to make this night count.

Suddenly, the music shifted into a strange twining melody. A masterly bit of magic from somewhere darkened the room's lights just as a soft red glow flared into life on the stage, illuminating Nyoko, poised at its center.  The Dance was about to begin.


----------



## Seonaid

Oh noez! All caught up again!


----------



## Ilex

*27x04*

Special thanks to spyscribe and Jenber for their comments on and contributions to the Nyoko and Mena sections, respectively...


Nyoko had heard the music of the Dance of the Seven-Fold Secrets in rehearsal, of course, but as she raised her right leg in the achingly slow and beautiful first gesture of the dance, she experienced a second of doubt—_where is the rhythm?_  Everything about this performance was so unusual: the music itself, the heavy incense, her costume, and the fact only half her audience was watching; the other half was preoccupied with other pursuits. Lord Tanaka was in the front row, his eyes studying one of her more obscure tattoos, deliberately revealed by Nyoko’s costume as she moved her weight from heel to toe.  Next to him was Unsuku, leaning forward with a smirk, as hungry for a mistake as Tanaka was for delight.

Unsuku's expression fired Nyoko with a flare of competitive fever. With that heat racing through her, her leg reached the top of its arch and she slid into the rhythm of the music and knew that she owned it. She owned the rhythm, the music, and each caress, curve, and sinuous spin of the Seven-Fold Secrets themselves.

As she stretched luxuriously into the dance's final posture, she knew she owned her audience, too.  

She stepped off the stage amid a roar of appreciation. Lord Tanaka was waiting for her, his eyes almost feral. Unsuku was at his right side, and Mena had materialized—in her role as Nyoko’s bodyguard—at his left.  

"I taught her everything she knows," Unsuku was saying. "But not everything _I_ know."

Nyoko wasn't sure if she was glad or sorry to see that Lord Tanaka didn't give a damn what Unsuku knew at that moment.  He kept staring at Nyoko.

"I wonder," said Mena, "if a … private audience … is desirable?"

"Indeed," rumbled Tanaka.

Servants led them immediately to the back of the hall, drew aside draperies, and stepped away as they entered a small chamber beyond. Nyoko caught a glimpse of silk pillows and filigreed brass lamps before Lord Tanaka ripped off his outer robe and embraced her. His lips sought her lips, her neck, and Nyoko tried to keep her bearings.

She wasn’t an innocent.  She knew what Lord Tanaka assumed would be the second movement of the dance.  She also knew that she had only to leave the room, and he would not pursue her.  But if she left, the heathens would lose their sole chance to speak with the Head of Lands. She tried shifting Lord Tanaka’s hand away from her breast.  With a grin, he found somewhere else to put it.

Nyoko looked away, and her eyes met Mena’s.

A few days before, Nyoko had explained to Mena the many layers of conflict of interest recognized by the Adepts in their role as impartial witnesses.  Near family, distant family, family by marriage, business associates, people who owed members of your family money, lovers… Finally Mena had cut to the chase: “You don’t want to have sex with him.”  

“It’s more nuanced than that.  Aside from the Adepts, I have no family.  That means I have a very small sphere of conflicts, which makes me a versatile and useful witness. Lord Tanaka will create complications—” 

“No sex with Lord Tanaka, got it.  If you change your mind, let me know.”  

"I counsel patience, my lord," came Mena's voice now. Lord Tanaka didn't seem to hear her, so Mena ripped him away from Nyoko and flung him back onto the pillows.  He stared, wide-eyed, as Mena, Nyoko, and Unsuku stood over him… and then he grinned and flung his arms wide to the three of them.  "Even better!" he roared.

Mena rolled her eyes.  

"Lord Tanaka-san, we—we need to talk," said Nyoko, as gently as she could.

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. Nyoko drew herself up with as much Adept authority as she could muster and announced, "We need to discuss a governmental matter of utmost importance and secrecy. Cauldron faces grave danger from the terrorists known as the Tide." 

He sat up with a grunt and his eyes actually rose high enough to meet hers for the first time.  "You're serious," he muttered. "This night, of all nights, you dare to interrupt my—" He began to rise angrily, but suddenly Unsuku was there, pulling him back down to the pillows, twining her arms around him, stroking his chest.

"We are serious, my lord," she murmured, "and we are most appalled that this interruption was required, and _I_ promise you…" She lowered her voice to whisper in his ear. "When you've heard us out, there will be rewards…." Her voice grew too soft for Nyoko to hear, but she saw the blood spring into Tanaka's cheeks as he gazed, entranced, into Unsuku's eyes.

"Very well," he gasped. "Talk quickly…"

They did, explaining the threat posed by the Tide and the necessity of going the long way around the Circle to defeat it.  Lord Tanaka's attention fell away from Unsuku—mostly—as he listened, and he sat up in surprise when they explained how much progress they'd already made.  

"You conniving little…" he muttered, and Unsuku giggled and bit his earlobe playfully.  Tanaka tangled a hand in her hair and pulled her in for a kiss. Mena turned away in annoyance.  Then Tanaka turned his gaze back to Nyoko and demanded, with impressive cogency, "But what has this to do with me? Of course you need me, but why do I need you? The most important things to me are here, tonight, not in my office at Lands."

"And here is where they will strike," said Mena. "They are traditionalists. If they take power, they will sweep through Cauldron shutting down everything that doesn't accord with their austere Kettenite principles. Do you truly think your indulgence parties could continue under such a repressive regime?"

He looked thoughtful for the first time.  Nyoko knelt in front of him, sensing an opening.  "But if you side with us, and we win," she said softly, "you will have more power than ever before, and more freedom. You are already a great man, but you could be a hero…" 

He looked at her, considering.  Then he sighed.  "Ah, you beautiful Adept," he said. "I couldn't resist you on the stage, and I cannot here.  You have my support."

Nyoko bowed deeply where she knelt. "Thank you, Lord Tanaka-san," she said. 

"And now, my lord, shall we … consummate the agreement?" asked Unsuku.  Lord Tanaka laughed a deep rumbling laugh and pulled her on top of him.

"Right, we're done here," said Mena, and marched for the door.  Nyoko, feeling eager for a breath of fresh air, rose quickly and followed.

### 

Mena wanted to put as much distance between herself and that back room as possible, right now. She understood that Unsuku was willing—even that Unsuku was _eager_—to do whatever was now happening between her and Lord Tanaka. Unsuku desired professional advancement and considered this a means to that end. Mena hoped that she was also enjoying herself.  Still, it felt faintly as if they had bought Tanaka's support with Unsuku's body, and—and Mena didn't care to picture what was happening in that room now.  That was all.

She spotted Kormick across the room looking thoroughly entertained by the party around him, and she remembered Arden's words about him as they'd arrived.  _Arden and her silly romantic ideas.  There is no “thing.”  I would know if there was a “thing.”  And anyway, Defiers don’t have “things.”_  That said, Kormick was an excellent ally if one wanted to not think about goings-on in back rooms.  Mena marched straight up to him and barked, "Jan, get me a drink. Possibly also a bath. But first a drink." 

Kormick took one look at her face. 

Then he turned, punched the man next to him, grabbed his drink before it fell, and thrust the goblet into Mena's hands.  

Mena tossed it back at a gulp, too flabbergasted to question what was in the cup.

It burned.  It burned like fire.

And then—_whoops, that was fast_—the room began to twist around on itself in lovely, funny ways, and Jan Kormick laughed at her, caught her with one strong arm, and nearly tipped them both over.  Mena burst out laughing.  She felt off-balance, and Jan’s hand at her waist was warm and...distracting.  She leaned into him, steadying them both, but a tiny voice in her mind was crying _dangerous, dangerous, so dangerous_... Mena failed to entirely resist the unfamiliar urge to see if she could fit more closely under Jan’s arm.  _When did I start thinking of him as “Jan?”  I should really let go now.  I’m sure we can stand on our own.  Maybe in just a minute._

Twiggy came hurrying up, Arden gliding behind her.  "Did you talk to Tanaka?  How did it go?"

"Oh, it went," said Mena.  Twiggy was such a good girl.  Always responsible.  She patted Twiggy on the arm. "All's good.  Yup, all done. Good job."  _Is Arden smirking?  Better rectify that.._  She pointed at Arden.  "I. Am. Not. Having. Any. Fun."

Arden grinned. "Why not?" she said, glancing to Jan and back.  Mena felt an excited flicker inside her that was more than just the drink, and instantly the small voice at the back of her head started in again.  _Don’t be an idiot.  You’re not supposed to do this sort of thing._   But Arden seemed unconcerned, and Arden was usually right about when to be concerned.  _So maybe_ . . . Mena set the big question aside.  This was an indulgence party.  Flirting was expected, even if only for the sake of appearances.  She let her head tip back.  Jan’s chest was there, behind her head, holding it up.

"The only thing worse than a murder slave," pronounced Jan, slurring his words ever so slightly, "is a sober murder slave. Let's get you one of these things Mena drank—when the fairies kick in, they're fantastic—" He moved as if to let go of Mena and punch somebody else, but Mena held him back.  She needed him—or more terrifyingly, she _wanted_ him—to stay close—just for a minute.  And Arden was waving him off anyway.  

At the back of Mena's mind, the tiny voice whispered icily, _You’re making a fool of yourself.  Arden likes to joke, but has Kormick ever given you any real reason to think he’d have sought you out if you hadn’t found him first?  That’s not what you’re good for, Defier._

"Well, if everything's going so well…" Twiggy said, and Mena saw that Twiggy had a object in her hands, a little pearl-like pill, sparkling with enchantment.  She was fingering it carefully.

"What's that?" Mena asked.

"Something… outside the rules," Twiggy said. "It's supposed to let you set aside logic, rationality…" 

"Welcome to my life," said Jan.  "Rational, honest corruption until it becomes apocalyptically insane. But this is a good party."

They all watched with interest as Twiggy took a deep breath, placed the pill carefully on her tongue, and then swallowed.

There was a slight _pop_, and Twiggy—vanished.

Arden gasped.  Mena blinked.  "Huh," said Jan. "Must be a trick of the candles." 

"And the drinking," Mena suggested.

"I don't think so," said Arden. "I think she teleported."

“That’s what she does when she’s free from logic?  She teleports?”  Jan asked.

“I think,” Arden said very patiently, “the worrisome part is where she teleported to and what she’s going to do there…”

Mena turned around in Jan's arms until she was staring at the wall behind her. Jan looked, too. No sign of Twiggy there. "Students need freedom to explore," Mena told the wall. She saw Jan nodding agreement out of the corner of her eye. "So do teachers. It is a part of life." With that, the voice in Mena's head finally faded away into the raucous sounds of the party. _Good._ Tomorrow she would go back to being responsible and not having "things" with people and forgetting how Jan's hand felt as it held her steady. Tomorrow she'd forget all this and a few indulgent hours wouldn't have made a difference. 

The wall leaned out to embrace her—no, that was Jan, warm and alive… much better than a wall…

"Gods!" yelped Arden, as if she'd been stung. Mena whirled back guiltily, reeled, and straightened in time to see Arden reach down and grab something off her ankle.  It was a wriggling, panicked mouse: Acorn.


----------



## Ilex

*27x05*

A belated happy birthday to Fajitas and, by extension, to this story hour! And a (nearly) belated happy Leap Day!


Acorn was now sinking his tiny teeth into Arden's fingers, and she was surprised how much it hurt. The little mouse was no Ketkath rat, but he wasn't joking around, either: he was drawing blood.  Arden held him up in front of her face, wondering if he could understand her speech.

"I will find her," she said. "Calm down."

Acorn stared at her straight in the eye for a moment, then turned his head and chomped through the flesh at the base of her thumb. Arden fought the urge to fling him across the room and, instead, turned back to Kormick and Mena.

"We need to start a search," she said through gritted teeth.

"Yes," said Mena, still drunk (at best) from whatever drink it was she had downed. "End the bad guys. Stabbity stab."

"Thud," added Kormick, with a hammering gesture. 

"None of that yet," said Arden. "First we—" She broke off.  Kormick and Mena had begun staring deeply into each other's eyes. "Never mind," said Arden, and turned away, scanning the room for Nyoko.  The Adept was nowhere to be seen, but Tavi was still sitting near the stage, barely visible in a crowd of women and a couple of men.

Arden marched over to the fringes of the crowd.  "Signor Octavian!" she shouted.  Tavi, ever dutiful, turned immediately and looked for the source of the voice.  When he spotted her, he blinked out of sight and, before Arden had a chance to think _Not another one,_ reappeared at her side.  

"Seemed quicker," he said, waving off his teleportation. He was drunk and shirtless, but he did a fairly good job of focusing on her.  "What's wrong?"

"Twiggy's missing. She took a drug, teleported somewhere—and now I have this." Arden held up Acorn, who promptly seized Tavi's chest hair in his tiny claws.  

"Right," said Tavi, staring at the mouse.  

"Signor, can Phoebe fly around and try to find her?" Arden asked, struggling to contain Acorn.

"Phoebe's … not flying very straight right at the moment," said Tavi.  

Mena and Kormick strode up.  "We had an idea," announced Mena. "Tavi, she's a very nice girl. We think you two would be very good together." 

"Which one?" Tavi asked, just a hint of mischief in his eyes as he turned back to survey his crowd of followers.  Behind his back, Mena winked meaningfully at Arden and Kormick soundlessly mouthed "_It's you_!" while pointing from Arden to Tavi with what he no doubt considered a subtle gesture.

"Tavi!" barked Arden.  "I need you to go to each door and find out if Twiggy's left. Ask the bouncers.  Hurry."  Her commanding tone received a brisk nod from Tavi and he set off.

Before Mena and Kormick could say another word, Arden put a firm hand on Mena's shoulder.  "You two stay right where she vanished," Arden told her. "She might come back to that point."

"We can do that," said Mena.  

"After you, Dame Mena," said Kormick.

Alone with Acorn, Arden looked into the mouse's eyes once more.  "Now we can search," she told him.  She wove through the crowd to the room's nearest corner and began searching methodically, up and down, slowly crossing the room's length and breadth.

No Twiggy.

But Acorn seemed to respect her orderly progress.  He settled down on her palm and watched intently.

As Arden made her final sweep down the far wall, wondering exactly what sights she was going to be exposed to if she had to start poking into all the curtained alcoves and back rooms next, Acorn suddenly gave a leap and a quiver in her hand.  He stuck out his nose and sniffed urgently at one curtained doorway in particular. 

Arden edged closer and twitched the curtain aside, just a little, to peer in.

With a sigh of relief, she saw that Twiggy was there—though she was mildly surprised at what Twiggy was doing.  Not wanting to disturb her, Arden set Acorn down gently, watched him scurry over to his friend, and then let the curtain fall.

### 

In another private room, Nyoko lay back against the bare chest of a handsome Adept samisen player and let him give her sips of wine from the goblet they were sharing. She took joy in the beauty of his fingers against the fragile glass—strong and sensitive, all at once. 

Ah, truly, he was a skilled player.

### 

Tavi was receiving a simultaneous back rub and foot rub from two different women—far more pleasant than those nightmare massages at the Adept House that he'd endured to win an invitation to this party—and he was lost in a warm comfort, nearly asleep. Tonight's mission was a success, Arden said she'd found Twiggy somewhere, and most importantly of all, Rose was safe in bed back at the Inn.  Right at this exact moment, he had nothing that he needed to do. 

And that was glorious.

###  

Kormick picked himself up off the bar after another laughing fit to see Mena smiling at him with enormous drunken pride. He'd always been attracted to her fearsomeness and her rare flashes of grim humor. But he'd never known she could make him laugh until he couldn't breathe. She was, quite possibly, the perfect woman.

### 

Arden found an unoccupied overstuffed cushion and nested herself into it with another glass of water, watching the swirling people around her. She felt good. In hindsight, she had overreacted to Twiggy's disappearance—the girl was perfectly safe—but she couldn't make herself regret it. Ordering around Tavi, Mena, and Kormick had been strangely satisfying.  _An indulgence party indeed_, she thought, allowing herself a private smile.  _Tavi's relaxing, Mena's carefree, Twiggy's irrational … and I was in charge._

###  

After many hours, the unceasing music twining through the party's rooms and alcoves gave way to a roll from a deep drum, and Lord Tanaka staggered to the center of the stage.

"I am told," he rumbled, "that it is dawn." Then he swayed once, twice, and fell with a thud like a fallen oak into an unmoving stupor.

The party was over.


----------



## Rughat

I love that Arden's idea of indulging is ordering people around.


----------



## Jenber

Rughat said:


> I love that Arden's idea of indulging is ordering people around.




From what Mena can remember, Arden was really very good at it.


----------



## Wilhem

Nooo! All caught up and now I have to wait for updates! What a great storyhour and clearly the result of a great DM and excellent players. Is Kormick going for the full set? A ketteneck Justiciar (dar und style) with an Allirian aura and potentially a Seddellan lover, just needs something Ekhtian to finish off!


----------



## Jenber

Wilhem said:


> Nooo! All caught up and now I have to wait for updates! What a great storyhour and clearly the result of a great DM and excellent players. Is Kormick going for the full set? A ketteneck Justiciar (dar und style) with an Allirian aura and potentially a Seddellan lover, just needs something Ekhtian to finish off!




Actually, Mena is also Ehktian (she's telling the truth when she introduceS herself as Brother Spark--she was a Keeper before she was a Defier.)  They have all four gods covered between them.

Referring to her as part of Kormick's "set," however, could be hazardous to one's health.


----------



## Wilhem

Jenber said:


> Actually, Mena is also Ehktian (she's telling the truth when she introduceS herself as Brother Spark--she was a Keeper before she was a Defier.)  They have all four gods covered between them.
> 
> Referring to her as part of Kormick's "set," however, could be hazardous to one's health.




I had forgotten the Brother Spark bit, so I guess that makes it better as a pair, still it is amusing to picture Mena's expression of utter rage (boosted by the hissing of her armour) if she was to be referred to as completing the set. Plus i imagine that would probably appeal to Kormick for the few seconds he would have left to live!


----------



## MTR

*Noooo!*

How did I miss this for so long?  I'm just marathoned it - and now it stops?


----------



## Ilex

Thanks for the comments, everyone (and welcome to Wilhem and MTR)! Rughat: I, also, loved that Arden's idea of indulgence was ordering everyone around. It made me happy when I realized that in the session.  

As ellinor says, we're dreaming big dreams of getting back to a regular weekly schedule, but work responsibilities keep getting in the way.  So we'll keep posting whenever we can.

Also, jonrog1 ran Savage Worlds for us again last night (unrelated to Halmae), and Fajitas's character killed Mao Tse Tung in the middle of a giant battle.  So, if you notice that you're suddenly living in another timeline where history has played out ... let's say _somewhat differently_, blame Fajitas. 

Update follows...


----------



## Ilex

*27x06*

“So, how was last night?”  Rose asked.  It was a familiar question.  For most of their lives, Twiggy and Rose had enjoyed the same morning ritual, recapping the doings of the night before in the servants’ quarters and family rooms, respectively, as Twiggy dressed Rose and styled her hair for the day ahead.  Over the years, Twiggy had learned about Hennan politics, and fashion, and public works, and the pressures of society life.  In recent months, their topics had broadened, but even here on the other side of the world, the ritual stood.  

Twiggy picked up a silk ribbon to twine into Rose’s silver braid.  “It was . . . good, I think.”  Twiggy rocked her neck back and forth gently.  She felt a freedom of movement she hadn’t recalled before, as if all of her muscles had sorted themselves out overnight.  “To be honest, I don’t remember much of it.  But I think I enjoyed it.”

Rose turned her head.  “What do you mean, you don’t remember?”

“Hey, stay still,” Twiggy laughed.  “I’m trying to braid.  What I mean is, once we got Tanaka to agree, this woman came up to me and asked me the one thing I wanted most in the world.  I said I wanted a break from _thinking_.  And then she handed me this pill, and said it would let me experience that.  She said it was safe.  I guess I believed the bit Tanaka said at the beginning, about the party being a time without rules, and . . . I took it.”  

“Risky,” Rose replied. “And what was it like?”

“I . . . well, good, I suppose.  I can’t be sure what I did.  I can only tell you what Arden told me.  She said she found me curled up, asleep, with my head in the lap of someone who looked exactly like my mother.”  

“So, unburdened by higher brain function, you went and found someone who looked like Aunt Mariela?”  Rose laughed.

“No,”  Twiggy replied, “apparently it wasn’t just a look-alike.  I gather I found someone willing to _become_ her.  Not that that’s any better.”  Twiggy paused for a long time, and tried to focus on the braid.  “I do feel better, somehow, for having done it.”  Twiggy tied the braid with a thin leather cord.  “How was the—where did you say you went last night? A puppet show?”

Rose turned in her seat and her voice took a conspiratorial tone.  “It wasn’t a puppet show.”  She paused for effect.  “Savina just told everyone that so I could have time alone with Taku.”

“Wait.  What?”  Twiggy stepped back.  “I have questions.  First:  how long were you planning this?”

“A few days,”  Rose said.

“So you lied to me? To us?”

“I never _lied,_”  Rose replied, “I just didn’t tell the truth.  But—yes, Savina lied.  But for good reasons,” Rose continued.  “We didn’t want you worrying about us.  And anyway, everything turned out well.”  

“I still wish you’d said something ahead of time.”  Twiggy tried to brush off the deception; it hurt more than she wanted to admit.  “But moving on.  By ‘Taku,’ do you mean Uroki Takumi?”   Twiggy remembered meeting a young Sovereign man with that name at one of the Peerage events.  At the time, of course, he had been “Uroki-san.”   

“Yes,” Rose blushed slightly.

“And by ‘time alone,’ you mean . . . _time alone_?”

“Yes,” Rose grinned.  “And don’t worry.  He knows I’ll have to leave, and he’s Sovereign, so there won’t be any family repercussions.  But we had a lovely night together.  We had dinner, and read poetry, and then we . . . and to be honest, I figured that whatever the Agent of Destruction has planned for me, I wanted to live a little first.”

_Risky,_  Twiggy thought.  “And it was good?”  She asked.

“It was good,” Rose replied with a smile.

“Then I’m glad.”

###

Kormick eased his way into a chair in the common room, trying not to jostle his head.  Across the room, Mena, Tavi, and Nyoko looked as hung-over as he felt.  Even the teetotaler murder slave had the grace to look tired.  Only Twiggy looked suspiciously perky.

Mena groaned.  "I'm going outside to drill."  She pushed back from the table and stalked toward the courtyard.

Savina and Rose walked in together, saw the group, and hurried over. "How did it go?" asked Savina.  Working together, they gave her a disjointed but generally accurate summary of the evening.  

"And you?" asked Kormick.  "Did you have a nice night at your puppet show?"

Savina and Rose shared a glance.  "We did," said Savina. 

"Adorable," Kormick said, just as the innkeeper arrived with several mugs of his special hangover remedy.  "Ah, good man, good man."

Unsuku flounced into the room and stood over the table proudly.  "I stand ready to Witness your activities today," she declared.

"I trust you had a rewarding evening?" Nyoko asked.

"Very," said Unsuku.  "And may I say, your performance was … creditable."

"I'm sure much of the credit goes to you."  

Kormick was vaguely aware that this was one of those passive-aggressive Adept conversations in which every polite phrase carried some kind of egregious insult, but he couldn't be bothered to figure it all out.

"If I am not mistaken," he said to the table at large, "we have, at the cost of wonderful, terrible indulgence last night, successfully gone as far around the Circle as we can go. Borders, Military, the Peerage, and Lands are all with us, which means the Adepts will be with us, too. All that remains is to confront the Mother Superior, yes?"

"Not quite yet, I think,” suggested Twiggy, just as if her mind was clear and relaxed and not throbbing agonizingly in time to her heartbeat.  "We need the whole Synod to agree with us if we’re going to pull this off.  We can be pretty sure that Brother Burnout will go along with us.  We know that the official Alirrian member of the Synod is just a figurehead and won't help, but the true leader of the Alirrians in Cauldron said she might, and she’d contact us when she had news.  Given what happened to Sister Sweet Scent, we have work to do with the Sedellans.  And—probably at the last minute—we should communicate with the Kettenite leader, Brother Ono Arato.”

"There's also the Tide, gentlefolk," added Arden.  "We suspect that someone’s been leaking information to them from within the Inquisition, and we _know_ someone fast-tracked the torture of Sister Sweet Scent just to make trouble.  My Tide contact clearly thinks I'm good for little else than gloating to. We can't rely on my charade to do us much more good. I think it's time to identify exactly who, within the Inquisition, is causing us trouble."

"So: religious leaders and the Tide," said Kormick.  "Let's get started. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can go back to bed."


----------



## RedTonic

Lovely! I was just catching up after being away for awhile, and it's immensely satisfying to see how the characters have been changed by their time in the Sovereign lands.


----------



## WisdomLikeSilence

That's what Twiggy was up to?!

I have to admit, I never would have guessed it, but it does make sense.  How cool.

(Yep, I hadn't known until this update what Twiggy had done.  Savina still doesn't know.  This party keeps its secrets.)


----------



## redcat

WisdomLikeSilence said:


> That's what Twiggy was up to?!
> 
> I have to admit, I never would have guessed it, but it does make sense. How cool.
> 
> (Yep, I hadn't known until this update what Twiggy had done. Savina still doesn't know. This party keeps its secrets.)




Wow, I'm impressed how well your group can keep long-standing secrets from the players as well as the characters. How does it work in real life? Do you use notes? Private chats with the GM beforehand? Separate "sessions" with some players out of the room?


----------



## Seonaid

WisdomLikeSilence said:


> That's what Twiggy was up to?!
> 
> I have to admit, I never would have guessed it, but it does make sense.  How cool.



I don't get it.  I read the linked post and I think I understand Twiggy's relationship with her mother. Maybe I'm overthinking it.


----------



## Jenber

redcat said:


> Wow, I'm impressed how well your group can keep long-standing secrets from the players as well as the characters. How does it work in real life? Do you use notes? Private chats with the GM beforehand? Separate "sessions" with some players out of the room?




Some private chats with the GM, some private chats with a couple of players in a different room, some utterly brilliant telling no one at all, and a metric ton of emails in between sessions.

Seriously.  Metric.  Ton.


----------



## Ilex

redcat said:


> Wow, I'm impressed how well your group can keep long-standing secrets from the players as well as the characters. How does it work in real life? Do you use notes? Private chats with the GM beforehand? Separate "sessions" with some players out of the room?




What jenber said. 

(except "metric ton" may be an underestimation in certain cases.)

It also helps to have a group culture that tolerates secret-keeping in the name of fun (i.e. "no spoilers!"). I can imagine groups where the culture would want to be a little different, which would be fine, too.

Seonaid, I'll let ellinor answer that question.


----------



## Ilex

*27x07*

*WEEK 13 | MONDAY*

Nyoko knocked softly on the unassuming, gray-painted door at the base of a tower on Cauldron's rim. She was here to visit the Twilight Sisters, to offer the Sedellans another assurance of the party's goodwill.  That said, she had a private aim in mind, as well. The Twilight Sisters were the shepherds of the dying, specializing in offering comfort and peace to those confronted by mortality, and Nyoko had Witnessed a lot of suffering and death recently.  She wondered if these godling worshippers could offer _her_ any comfort.

It turned out that they said very little: when Nyoko introduced herself to the solemn woman who answered the door, the woman introduced herself in return only as "Sister" and briefly expressed pleased surprise to find an Adept at her door.  She introduced Nyoko to the few other men and women at the tower – all called merely "Sister" – and they listened gravely to Nyoko's words of greeting from the heathens as well as to Nyoko's own story.  They asked a few soft questions, drawing Nyoko out a little about the painful sights she'd seen, and Nyoko was surprised to find that the pain of remembering went along with a kind of relief to be heard by these calm, accepting faces.

After they'd talked, two of the sisters led Nyoko to the top of the tower.  The late-summer wind was brisk at the top, clearing away the haze from the volcano and offering a view far into the west, where Nyoko could faintly glimpse the cliff of the Great and Rising Visage of the Lord's Implacable Face cut out against the horizon—home to the Lord Regent himself in his remote city of Divine Mark.

Against this backdrop, the sisters chanted a strange, foreign-sounding chant, and they helped Nyoko to scatter a handful of ashes from the tower's edge.  The wind caught the ashes and scattered them far and fast, so that in an instant the air was clear again.

And Nyoko felt cleansed.

*TUESDAY*

Twiggy wasn't sure if, scientifically speaking, she could really still be experiencing the aftereffects of the Indulgence party or not, but as she awoke on Tuesday morning, she still felt relaxed and clear-headed – and she realized that there had been a significant gap in the party’s research on the prophecy.  They had spent all of her research time in the Adept library.  What about the archives of the Military?  So while others continued the week’s tasks, Twiggy headed back to the imposing gates of the Military compound to ask a favor.

The guard recognized her as the heathen Go player, and introduced her to the Military archivist, a tall, thin man with close-cropped silver hair.  He ushered her into a small, austere room—nothing like the vast, comfortable Adept library—crowded with bound volumes showing troop movements, requisitions, and the like.  It was a fruitful, but deeply unsettling, visit:  after a day of sifting through the volumes, she gained new context to the rantings of the Sheh madwoman that they'd uncovered in the Inquisition's archives.

The Sovereignty's vast lands, as she had known before, had been populated in centuries past by the Old Ones or Go'nah-li, tribes of people who had worshipped all four gods in their own ways.  The Sheh were a particular Go'nah-li nation who had lived in the mountain wilderness west of Divine Mark.  

The party had always been aware that the Old Ones had been overcome and converted by the Sovereigns, but the military records were a stark reminder that the process had been bloody.  Refusing to surrender their culture and pantheistic religion, the Sheh in particular had become a target of Sovereign military force deployed from Divine Mark.  But they proved difficult to conquer—so difficult that Twiggy found records of three successive military expeditions sent against them.

The first expedition simply vanished into the wilderness of the Ketkath.  It was never seen or heard from again.

The second expedition reached the Sheh homeland and, at an apparently enormous cost to both sides, conquered the fierce tribespeople in a series of battles.  The records claimed that no Sheh survived.

After several years passed, however, rumors arose that the tribe was struggling back to life, determined to reassert its old independence—and its heretical religion.  In response, the Sovereigns sent forth a third expedition, which reportedly annihilated all the remaining Sheh.  

The Military records noted, with clinical dispassion, that the defeat of other Go'nah-li tribes rarely took more than one or two expeditions; the Sheh had been a special challenge.  Twiggy shivered.  Beneath the cool words she was reading lay more suffering and ruthless violence than she could imagine. 

*THURSDAY*

Kormick watched the Inquisition's rabbity Chief Clerk Goro dart out of a side doorway of the Inquisition House.  As soon as Goro was half a block down the street, Kormick slid in behind him and started following.

Goro's name had the misfortune to be on the short list of Inquisitorial employees who knew information that had been leaked to the Tide and also would have been able to fast-track Sister Sweet Scent's arrest and interrogation, and so Kormick was shadowing him for the week. Tailing somebody had never been Kormick's favorite job, but it wasn't the worst, either—he wasn't going to sneeze at an excuse to wander around Cauldron, chat up inhabitants, snag a drink from the nearest tavern, and generally work himself deeper into the rhythms of the city streets.  You never could tell when having a feel for the pulse of a place would pay off; if King Lukas's diplomatic efforts advanced, this week spent meandering through Cauldron might yield unforeseen dividends.

Goro himself was unspeakably boring: he went to teahouses, not taverns. He delivered papers and whined about proper signatures. He fussed at a tailor who hemmed a sash to the improper length. He paused for annoyingly pious prayers at each and every little Kettenite shrine he passed.  He behaved, in all ways, like the worst kind of risk-adverse, self-conscious, nit-picky, rules-obsessed bureaucratic functionary—_precisely_ the kind of sniveling man who would cave into _either_ blackmail over his one ridiculously minor sexual indiscretion _or_ the temptation of more power to enforce pointlessly detailed rules, whichever presented itself to him first.

In other words, Kormick couldn't prove it yet, but he already knew this guy was guilty.

*FRIDAY*

Mena stepped back and surveyed the diagram that she had chalked onto the wall of a small private room in the Inquisition House.  Around her, she sensed the rest of the party doing the same.

On the wall were written the names of all the Inquisition officers they'd investigated that week, along with arrows and notations tying them to each other, parsing out their schedules, and comments upon their outside activities.  

It had been a frustrating investigation.  Arden and Twiggy—using lockpicks and invisibility spells, respectively—had sneaked into the offices of Lord Ono's cousin and an Inquisitor named Ako, riffled through mountains of paperwork, and come up with pages of appointments and lists of assignments with no meaningful discrepancies.  Savina had interviewed Prime Inquisitor Yudai, but insisted that she sensed only "pride, not Tide" within him.  Tavi—poor boy; he had a haunted look in his eyes—had spent several hours talking about Sovereign history and politics with Mawu, the torturer, and been forced to conclude that, while she was horrifying, she was also honorable.  Mena herself had intimidated one stern and upright captain, Norio, into the broken, heartfelt, and irrelevant admission that he was in love with Lord Ono.  And Kormick had provided an exhaustive list of Goro's wanderings.

Separately, the evidence was deeply underwhelming.  Having laid it all out on the wall, however, and added in whatever Arden could contribute from hints her Tide contacts had let drop, Mena felt that the answer was clearly chalked in front of her.  

"As I suspected," Kormick grunted.  

"It's Goro.  It has to be.  He's the only one where all the connections fit," said Tavi.

"It's always the paper-pusher," agreed Kormick.  "Except Brother Scribe, back home.  That man is unshakeable."

"I shall Witness Goro's arrest," declared Unsuku.

"Not so fast, not so fast," said Kormick.  "Now that we know where the leak is, maybe we can use it."

"May it please you," added Arden, "whatever we do, we have to act fast. Sedellus Rising is in two days. I guarantee you the Tide will have something exciting planned—"

A fist thudded on the room's door.  "We shouldn't let anyone see this," said Mena.  With a wave of her hand and a murmured word, Twiggy prestidigitated the writing off the wall.  Then Arden opened the door to reveal a page clutching two messages.  Arden accepted them with a bow, shut the door, and distributed the notes.

"Brother Ono Arato wants to meet," Nyoko said, reading hers.

"As does Sister Sweet Scent, at last," said Mena, reading hers.

"Well," said Twiggy.  "Summer may be ending, and the Circle may have been rounded, but I think things are finally heating up."


----------



## Jhereth Jax

I absolutely love this story. I love how thoughtful and dedicated all the players are and how the DM make sit such a challenging world to play in. Invested- everyone is invested.

I know that at least one of you is a professional writer- I'm wondering how many of the others are either writers, actors, or the like? I'm an actor in Chicago and have been gaming with the same group for over a decade now and the storytelling just gets amazing sometimes. 

I'm also curious about the crunch of the characters- who is what? I loved the reskinning on the races but wondered what folks do for feat and power choices. Some are obvious- but it would be fun to see the nuts and bolts of the characters.

Thank you so much for all the joy this story brings me!


----------



## Ilex

Jhereth Jax said:


> I absolutely love this story. I love how thoughtful and dedicated all the players are and how the DM make sit such a challenging world to play in. Invested- everyone is invested.




Thank you so so much for these really kind words! As I've said before and will say again, I'm so glad I get to play in this game _and_ share it here.



Jhereth Jax said:


> I know that at least one of you is a professional writer- I'm wondering how many of the others are either writers, actors, or the like? I'm an actor in Chicago and have been gaming with the same group for over a decade now and the storytelling just gets amazing sometimes.




I think it's safe to say that everyone in the group is either working in the TV/film industry or has had at least one industry-adjacent job at some point. 

I further believe that RPG players worldwide are usually excellently creative folks, whatever their day jobs might be, which is one reason I adore this hobby and am so glad to have been introduced to it.  



Jhereth Jax said:


> I'm also curious about the crunch of the characters- who is what? I loved the reskinning on the races but wondered what folks do for feat and power choices. Some are obvious- but it would be fun to see the nuts and bolts of the characters.




Sounds like you've already seen this post, which summarizes the very basics (and Fajitas's re-skinning philosophy). We can add to that list Nyoko, who's a human ranger. I'm going to encourage either Fajitas or my fellow players to hop on here and share more recent or more involved details that might be interesting... 

Thanks again!


----------



## ellinor

Seonaid said:


> I don't get it.  I read the linked post and I think I understand Twiggy's relationship with her mother. Maybe I'm overthinking it.




Sorry it's taken me so long to jump on here!  I love this question -- partly because it implies that it's *possible* to overthink things with this game.  By which I mean, of course it's posdible, but if you're over thinking things it makes me feel just a little bit better about all the obsessive overthinking that I do. 

So...Twiggy'a relationship with her mother.  Of course you got a good taste of it earlier in the story:  Twiggy was the product of youthful indiscretion, and her lineage -- that she's anything more than "the help" -- is a closely guarded family secret.  In fact, although wisdomlikesilence knows twiggy's lineage, Savina still doesn't (and, even as close as the characters have become,  probably never will).  Twiggy's mother is not what you'd call a "nice person," and isnt particularly respected within the family, and it's fair to guess that she blames that lack of respect -- misplaced or otherwise-- on twiggy's existence.  So there aren't a lot of stray hugs between the two of them.  Meanwhile, as pne might expect, twiggy pines for respect and love for her mother, but (a) would never admit it and (b) knows it's never going to happen. So, unburdened by higher brain function, Twiggy apparently goes for the one lizard-brain thing she wants most, the one thing she can't logic away:  a hug from mom.

But here's what's cool about this scene that you'd never know from the write-up:  wisdomlikesilence isn't the only one who didn't know what Twiggy was up to.  I didn't either!  I told fajitas that the one thing twiggy wanted most was not to *think* for a few hours...and let him decide what she did with the time.  All I knew, before asking him for the write-up, was that Arden found her curled up asleep in the lap of someone who looked like Mariela.  fajitas filled in the rest -- that she went back to the polymorpher and asked him to transform into her mother-- just a few days ago.  We played this session over a year ago! 

So...there is no overthinking in this game.  None at all.


----------



## Seonaid

Okay, good, I _was_ overthinking and I _do_ get it. 

Thanks so much for this. I love the behind-the-scenes stuff as much as the in-game stuff.


----------



## WisdomLikeSilence

ellinor said:


> In fact, although wisdomlikesilence knows twiggy's lineage, Savina still doesn't (and, even as close as the characters have become,  probably never will).




Ohh, umm.  Savina does know, actually.  She figured it out shortly after our encounter with Mariela.  She's just never felt like it was appropriate to bring it up.

Seems like sometimes we keep secrets even without meaning to!

Seonaid, I'll try to post more on Savina's build later, but this seems like a good time to mention that Savina has a +15 insight and the background ("Dragon Coast") that lets you reroll insight checks.  So she tends to notice quite a bit about people.  It's a good thing for all the party secrets that she also has a highly developed sense of social and personal boundaries, and almost never pries.


----------



## Jhereth Jax

So cool! I had no clue she was a ranger- I figured bard. Thanks!


----------



## spyscribe

Jhereth Jax said:


> So cool! I had no clue she was a ranger- I figured bard. Thanks!




  Funny you should say that.  

My original concept when I started discussing the character concept with Fajitas was someone who would be a cross between a bard and a Heinlein-style fair witness.  Working out the particularities of Sovereign culture, she eventually became a cross between a classical geisha and a fair witness.

We talked about making her a Bard (the class)--but with two leaders already in the party, Fajitas really wanted to avoid adding a third.  Defender didn't make a lot of sense, and I'd played a Sorcerer in the original campaign and so wanted to avoid a straight controller, so we looked at finding the right flavor of striker.  Ranger had the benefit that even though we already had one in the party, there was an obvious way to build a character that would still be significantly different than Jan.

And so--and I never really thought about it like this before--Nyoko kind of became a Ranger skinned as a Bard.

Mechanically, there aren't a lot of changes.  We gave her streetwise as her "ranger" skill instead of nature or dungeoneering.  Because 4e doesn't have as many skills as 3/3.5 did, Fajitas is good about letting me (and all of us, to greater or lesser extent) make an argument to plug the skills that Nyoko does have into the areas that an adept would be trained in.  Dance checks for the Dance of Sedellus were all acrobatics.  I think seducing/convincing the head of Lands was basically diplomacy, and playing the flute at an inn would use streetwise to pick the right song for the crowd that evening.

Fortunately, I haven't had to make a tea ceremony check yet.


----------



## ellinor

*28x01*

Wind whipped at the flags atop the imposingly symmetrical obsidian gates of the Temple of Kettenek as Nyoko, Mena, and Kormick stood before them, awaiting their meeting with Brother Ono Arato, the Kettenite representative to Cauldron’s synod.

A guard led them through a bare, obsidian-walled hall so clean that Kormick nearly stopped to check his reflection in its finish.  At the end of the hallway, they could see Brother Ono in his office, sitting crosslegged on the stone floor, facing away from them.

“He is the rock, and the rock does not move,” Kormick remarked quietly.  

Mena stifled a laugh.

Brother Ono turned, stood, and bowed as they reached the threshold of his office. “Honored Adept, Honored Justicar, and Dame Filomena.  It is an honor.”

Kormick resisted the urge to respond with a sentence entirely composed of the word "honor," and instead bowed in return.  The motion had become less awkward over time, but still felt foreign.

“I have for many weeks pondered what you said as you danced the Dance of Sedellus in Ehkt’s Judgment Pageant, Adept Nyoko-san,” he began sternly, “and I must know.  Which of you invaded my mind, and to what end?”

There was a slight pause; Brother Ono’s tone was more accusatory than they had expected.

“None of us reached into your mind, I assure you,” Mena used her most diplomatic tone.  

“I can barely read meanings when they’re spoken aloud,” Kormick added. 

Brother Ono looked at Nyoko, who nodded and said, “What they say is true.  None of us has the ability to read minds.  But there is a matter of importance about which we need to speak with you.  To get your attention, Dame Mena-san suggested that I say what I said, not because she invaded your mind, but because your mind spoke into hers.  She was a witness, not an intruder.”

Brother Ono furrowed his brow.  “I trust your Witness as an Adept, but with respect, I do not have the ability to speak into minds.”

“There is a story you may have heard,” Kormick began, feeling himself veering dangerously near to metaphor, “about how everyone knows a blacksmith’s hours not because they are posted on his door, but because one can hear the blows of his hammer on the anvil.”  He adjusted course.  “What I mean to say is maybe your thoughts are just very loud.” 

Brother Ono looked skeptical.

“Or perhaps there is a higher force who speaks through you,” Nyoko said, trying a different approach.  

Brother Ono considered it.  “What purpose would Kettenek have in sending my thoughts to you?”

“Kettenek’s ways may not be easily visible, because they are larger than us,” Kormick began, and then—he couldn’t explain the feeling, but he just _knew_ what to say, as if Brother Ono was speaking directly into Kormick’s mind— “One can’t see the whole range from the face of a single mountain, but one can read truth as plain as you can see a stone on a summer day.”

Brother Ono jolted back in surprise.  “Why did you say those words?”

“I . . .” Kormick thought about it.  Why _had_ he said that?  “I don’t know.  But I prayed last night, and that phrase, about a stone on a summer day, that phrase came to me just now.  I heard it, in my mind.”  

Brother Ono looked perturbed.  He seemed genuinely surprised, and discomfited, by the idea that he might be projecting his thoughts into the minds of others.  “I—this is very unsettling.  I must think on it.  Pray on it.  But . . . for now I will hear your matter of great importance.”

Nyoko explained the risks that the Tide posed, and of the Tide agents in the Priesthood.  She described how their group of unorthodox Inquisitors had followed the scourge of the Tide where it led them, and how it had led them to understand Brother Ono was a trustworthy man.  She explained that they would be able to provide evidence of wrongdoing by the Mother Superior, and that when the Inquisition moved, it would need the aid of Brother Ono and all who would support the Lord High Regent.  She couched it as a matter of preserving the stability of the rock on which Kettenek stood in the Sovereignty.   

“You have gone to great lengths, even using methods of which I do not approve,” Brother Ono said at last, “But I will listen to your evidence without bias.  The treachery you describe would shake Cauldron to its core, and if proven, must be stopped.”

“You understand,” Nyoko said, solemnly, “that to prevent the risk of the information leaking, we will provide it only when the time comes.”

Brother Ono bowed, slightly, understanding, but uncomfortable.  “Then when the time comes, I will listen.”

As they turned to leave, Brother Ono stopped Kormick.  “Are your words always so divinely inspired, Justicar?”  he asked.

“Absolutely not, my lord,” Kormick replied, surprised.  _They’re not even mundanely inspired,_ he thought.

“Well, Kormick-san, you are a man of surprising talents, perhaps surprising even to yourself.  I advise you to engage in more introspection and to recognize your own wisdom,” Brother Ono said, with a bow.

“If you ever give yourself the credit you deserve,” Mena said to Kormick, “that’ll be the real surprise.”

###

Arden traced the complex pattern of the rug with her eyes for the twelfth time.  She, Mena, and Savina had been called to the Fortune Riders’ temple to meet with Sister Sweet Scent, but they had been waiting in an anteroom for at least 30 minutes.  A man stood with his arms folded, guarding the door, staring at Arden. She recognized him; he had stood at the door of the temple when she and Kormick had been there during the Ehkt’s Judgment games.  She wondered if he recognized her.

There was a knock at the door, and the man led them down a hallway to a small private parlor.  It was luxurious, with woven wall-hangings and a divan in the corner, but it seemed designed for comfort, not ostentation.  

In the middle of the room, sitting on a soft chair behind a carved desk, was Sister Sweet Scent.  She was wrapped in a blanket, with her hair tied back.  A cup of broth steamed on the desk in front of her.  When she spoke, her voice was hoarse.  “Forgive me for not getting up.”

“We are glad to see you as well as you are,” Savina replied, “but if there is any way in which we may assist—”

Sister Sweet Scent cut her off.  “You have been diligently harassing my people with offers of assistance for the past week.  I am asking you, politely, to stop.”

“We will, if that’s what you want,” Mena replied, “but first you’ll want to hear what we have to say.  We have found the man responsible for your false arrest.  He is a member of the Restless Tide of the One True Path.  The Tide is working to end the Affirmation.  I’m sure you share our interest in preventing that.”

Sister Sweet Scent folded her arms.  “Why in the name of the four gods should I believe a word from the people who released the heretic responsible for the cheating in the Ehkt’s Judgment games?”

“Because the risks of believing us are minor,” Savina’s voice lilted with intrigue, “and the rewards are quite great.”

Sister Sweet Scent leaned forward, and the blanket fell away slightly, revealing a still-raw lash near her collarbone.   Arden winced inwardly at its familiar color, and she wasn’t surprised by Sister Sweet Scent’s distrust.  Releasing the cheater had appeased the Eighths, but it did them no favors with the Sedellans.  “I’ll make you a deal,” Sister Sweet Scent said.  “You tell me your story, and I’ll listen.”

Mena once again told the story of the Tide’s plan, and the Inquisition’s journey the long way around the Circle.  She explained their investigation of the corrupt Inquisitor, and how the release of the Ehkt’s Judgment culprit had helped to smoke him out.  The mole passed secret information about the culprit’s release to the Priesthood—which, Mena admitted, had unacceptably brutal consequences for Sister Sweet Scent, but it had the one benefit of limiting the Inquisition’s investigation to those who knew of the release. 

Sister Sweet Scent listened attentively, and then leaned back in her chair.  “I shall have my people investigate.  If I can confirm your story, I’ll help you.  And I want your Inquisitor mole.”

“Do you need to mete out justice yourself,” Mena asked, “or are you content to see it done?”  It was a good question, and Arden suspected that she knew the answer.  This woman didn't have a lot of trust in Kettenek’s servants after what she’d been through.  She wanted to be _sure_ that the system was going to get it right—so she would double-check their investigation before trusting them.  Arden couldn’t decide whether she liked the woman or not, but she respected her reasoning.

“As I said, we will investigate.  I, myself, will interrogate this man.  And you will have my support if and when I have confirmed your story.  Not a moment sooner.”

“In that case,” Mena said, “the Inquisitor’s name is Goro.”

###

At a back room in the Inquisition, Twiggy chalked a list on one of the walls as Nyoko recited information.

Evidence Against Mother Superior:
(1) Kowazu’s confession re Hillside District (implicated Mother Superior)
(2) Goro (leaked info to Tide; fast-tracked Sister Sweet Scent’s arrest)
(3) Arden’s Tide contacts
(4) Wrongful arrest order for Sweet Scent came from Priesthood

“She’s done a good job of hiding her tracks,” Twiggy said.  “And the Synod meeting is in two days, on Sedellus Rising.”

“We call it Sedellus Fallen,” said Nyoko. “Regardless, you’re right about the Mother Superior.  She’s done a good job, but since we’ve gone the long way around the circle, we should have enough for charges against her to stick.” 

“So once we get the support of the Sedellans, and get word to the Adepts that everyone else has agreed, we will have everything we need,” Twiggy said.  “Then what?  How does the process work?  Do we just march into the Synod meeting with letters from all of the Rings?”

Nyoko shook her head.  “You ask like I’ve done this before.”  She paused.  “No one has.”

###

Kormick adjusted the heavy, wriggling bundle over his shoulder as they approached the Fortune Riders’ temple a day and a half later.  “Explain why I am here with you?”  Unsuku asked.

“You’re here to Witness the delivery of this carpet,” Kormick replied.  

The carpet kicked Kormick in the kidneys.

Inside, they unrolled the bundle to reveal Goro, bound and gagged.  Sister Sweet Scent had demanded that she be able to interrogate the Tide mole herself, and Kormick had smuggled him out of custody for the purpose.  Kormick had learned enough about the Sovereign legal system to know that if Goro was going to confess, Unsuku needed to be there to hear it.

It only took a handful of questions—and divinely cast truth rituals—from Sister Sweet Scent before Goro sang like a bird, revealing the location of a blind drop where he received orders from the Tide and—impressively—implicating a number of Tidesmen who worked for the Priesthood.  When he was done, Unsuku had a thorough and unassailable record of Goro’s perfidy, and Sister Sweet Scent had agreed to lend her support to their plan for the Synod.

The Inquisition disposed of Goro secretly and efficiently.

###

Mid-morning on Sedellus Fallen (by the Sovereign reckoning), as the city of Cauldron geared up for a day-long harvest festival, Twiggy packed a sheaf of letters from the various Rings into a portfolio and tied them into her Inquisitorial robes.  Around her, the Inquisition geared up to escort them to the Synod meeting for an unprecedented task:  the arrest for heresy of the leader of the Priesthood.

“So this is what history feels like,” Savina said, as she packed potions into a satchel.

“History feels like the supple cover of an old book,” Twiggy replied.  “This feels nothing like that.”

“It feels like dressing for a party I don’t look forward to,” Tavi said.

“Or like being summoned for auction,” Arden said, grimly.

“Like the curtain opening on the stage,” Nyoko said.

“Like the eve of battle,” Mena said.

“Like dawn,” Kormick said, as they set out for the Temple of the Priesthood, flanked by over a dozen well-armed Inquisitors.


----------



## coyote6

Is there going to be blood? I'm thinking there's going to be blood.


----------



## Seonaid

ellinor said:


> “Explain why I am here with you?”  Unsuku asked.
> 
> “You’re here to Witness the delivery of this carpet,” Kormick replied.



This makes me laugh out loud, every time I read it. My husband probably thinks I'm nuts, because I've read it more than a few times.


----------



## Fajitas

coyote6 said:


> Is there going to be blood? I'm thinking there's going to be blood.




After 3 months in game and I think over six months of real time reaching this, the epic climax of the Skill Cascade, it would have been a little disappointing to solve it *entirely* through diplomacy...


----------



## StevenAC

Fajitas said:


> After 3 months in game and I think over six months of real time reaching this, the epic climax of the Skill Cascade, it would have been a little disappointing to solve it *entirely* through diplomacy...



I'm looking forward immensely to seeing the payoff of this whole epic process.

And now that we've reached this point, the Collected Story Hour page has been updated to contain everything up to the end of session 27...  Hope you enjoy it!


----------



## ellinor

*28x02*

Thanks, StevenAC!
Here we go...

*28x02*

“Do you hear that?”  Rose asked.

Savina craned her ears.  There was a noise, like the cheering crowd of a festival.  Savina concentrated.  There was a smell, too, like cooking.   “Today’s a harvest festival here, too, right?  I think I can smell the food.”

“We don’t cook outdoors,” Nyoko said.  “That’s something else.  Burning.  Coming from across town.”

Across town, where they were going.  

They broke into a run through the narrow, crowded streets, past residences, through alleys, past shops and inns.

Savina reached the back of a crowd.  Smoke billowed from somewhere, but there were too many people between her and the smoke.  Unruly people.  Savina put her hand on the shoulder of a young woman.  “What’s happening?”  she asked.  

“Something about the Priesthood and the Inquisition,” the woman said.  “I’m trying to find out myself.”

_Not a good sign,_ Savina thought.  _The Priesthood shouldn’t know we’re coming._ 

As they pushed through the crowd, dodging flailing arms and thrown bottles, Savina noticed that a lot of the people were wearing purple sashes.  Sedellan colors—but surely, there weren’t so many Sedellans in Cauldron.  “Those sashes, are they normal for this festival?”  she asked Unsuku, who was just a few steps behind.  

“No,” said Unsuku, ducking to avoid a thrown pot.  

_Another bad sign._  A few feet away, a woman was holding her own head, trying to staunch blood from a wound on her temple.  Savina began to dash toward the woman, but stopped.  _I can’t heal everyone,_ she told herself.  _And we have work to do._

Kormick grabbed the collar of one of the sash-wearers.  “What’s this about?” he barked.  

The sash-wearer spit at Kormick’s feet.  “Inquisition dog.  Everyone knows that you are conspiring with the Priesthood to destroy all Sedellans.”

“What are you talking about?”  Kormick dragged the man’s face closer to his own.  

“You arrested our leader, Sister Sweet Scent.  Held her and tortured her without provocation!  We’ve heard other Sedellan Synod members in other cities have been arrested as well!  We know you’re trying to stamp out our beliefs, and we won’t let you get away with it!” 

Savina stared at the man.  She certainly hadn’t heard anything about arrests in other cities.  The man seemed genuinely angry, and genuinely scared.  But, as she quickly surveyed other nearby faces, she realized that wasn’t true for everyone here . . . some of them looked hard, determined, sly…  they were here to foment unrest. 

Kormick turned to Lord Ono, who had joined them to lead the Inquisition squad personally.  “Tide propaganda.  They started this riot.  We’ll head to the Temple if you can deal with the hooligans.”  

Lord Ono nodded.  “Gather up!” he announced to the Inquisitors.

Kormick released the sash-wearer’s lapel and waved him away.  “Go to your Sedellan friends.  Tell all of them that Inquisitors let you go.”  The man ran, but Savina could not see where he went.

Savina started running again up the narrow street toward the Temple of Kettenek – that is, she _tried_ to – but suddenly she couldn’t move.  A searing pain coursed from the back of her calf up her leg down her back – and then a second pain.  Two arrows had hit her, as if from nowhere – and as she looked around, she saw she wasn’t the only one hit.  Tavi was pulling an arrow from his thigh.  Mena had been hit three times, and stumbled from the pain.  

Arden reacted immediately, throwing a dagger at one of the rooftop snipers, and then clambering up a nearby scaffold and stabbing him.  Savina shook off the shock and snapped into action.  She knelt over Mena and said a prayer.  Immediately, Mena staggered to her feet and chased after Arden.  Kormick hurled himself through a tavern window and pushed past tables toward the stairway in the back. 

Moments later, two snipers plummeted from the roof, landing on the street.  Tavi knocked one of them out with a swift blow.  The other sniper landed awkwardly Savina’s feet—but amazingly, he pushed at the ground as if to stand up.  

Savina whacked the fallen sniper on the head with her staff, as hard as she could muster.  He grabbed his head in pain.  “Stay down!” she yelled. 

“That’s this roof clear!” yelled Kormick.  But there were more snipers.  An arrow whizzed past Savina’s shoulder.  More flew over the street from one roof to another.  Savina heard Mena cry out again—she was hit, atop one of the roofs.  _Too far away.[ /i]  But Tavi had been fending off several attackers at ground level and was grabbing his shoulder in pain.  Savina ran to him, reciting a prayer under her breath.  “Not! The! Boots!”  she heard Arden yell, and in moments another sniper fell to the ground, blood streaming from his side, unconscious.  

Savina spotted Mena, by a second floor window, fending off one of the snipers—he’d dropped his bow, and was trying to shove Mena out the window.  “Nice try, honey,” Mena said.  “Now back yourself up and try again.”  He took her advice, but Arden was right behind him, dagger in hand.  Shick, he slumped over unconscious, his torso hanging out the window.  Arden pulled him inside.

Across the alley, Savina heard Unsuku’s voice.  “Someone want to finish this guy off?”  She was on a balcony, holding the last sniper in an exotic, but effective, grip.  In a flash, one of Nyoko’s arrows flew past Unsuku and into the man’s shoulder.  With an impressive burst of speed, Mena leapt the gap and, with a deft flick of the sword, incapacitated him.

“Are we done?”  Kormick asked.  He appeared in the doorway of the building he’d crashed through, and picked up two of the fallen snipers by the backs of their jerkins.  “Let’s take these miscreants in.”  One by one, the party returned to ground level, carrying unconscious snipers.  

“One left,” Savina said, and ran toward the one she’d whacked with her staff, now a dozen yards away.  He was staggering to his feet and yelling at the top of his lungs “Help! Help! I’m being attacked by the Inquisition!  Help me, Sisters!”  

Then he looked at Savina with a nasty grin and winked.

“That’s not true!”  Savina yelled.  “We’re on your side!”  Her words were swallowed up in the din of the crowd.  Nyoko caught him with an arrow, but he started running.  Twiggy tried to cast something at him, but to no avail.  Tavi dispersed the crowd a bit with a burst of flame, but people still closed behind the sniper in an instant, swallowing him up, almost blocking him from view.

Kormick dropped the two unconscious snipers and chased the conscious one.  “’Scuse me, pardon me,” he barked, pushing through the crowd, following the eddies where the man had been.  “I need you to stop.  Inciting.  This.  Crowd,” he bellowed as he caught up with the man, and swung his hammer sidelong at the man’s right knee.  The man collapsed.  Kormick dragged him, limping, back to where Savina and the others stood.  

“You’re not Sedellan, are you,” Savina asked him, through slivered eyes.  “You’re Tide, here to cause trouble.”  The man sneered.  It was all the confirmation Savina needed.  She pulled at his purple sash.  “I’ll take that.”  

“What do we do with them?”  Twiggy asked.  “Do we really want to be dragging prisoners around on a mission to arrest the Mother Superior?”  

“We have no choice,” Mena answered, and slung one of them – stripped of his purple sash – over her slight shoulders in a fireman’s carry.  The others did the same.  Kormick took two, one over each shoulder.  Unsuku pulled the limping one, gagged but defiant, along beside her. 

And they ran, carrying their burdens, through the crowd, toward the Temple._


----------



## ellinor

*29x01*

Wind whipped Twiggy’s hair across her face.  She kept running, and tried to sweep the hair away with the back of her hand.  Hair caught in her mouth.  She kept running and tried to spit it out.

Ahead of her, Kormick had found a small group of Lord Ono’s trusted, loyal Inquisitors and was handing over their Tide prisoners.  By the time Twiggy caught up, the others were unencumbered and ready to run again.  She didn’t get a rest.

They ran, past gardens and courtyards, through alleys and shortcuts, turned the corner and…there it was:  the Temple, looming above them.  

Between them and the Temple’s grand steps and great doors lay The Plaza of Our Lord Kettenek Triumphant.  On another day, a smattering of pilgrims would gather there and functionaries would occasionally eat their lunches in the shadow of the 10-foot-tall holy symbol of Kettenek that stood at its center.  

Today the space between the statue and the Temple held a yelling, pushing horde.  Two hundred—no more, it must be more—angry people, surging toward the Temple, beating at the Temple doors in a senseless rage.

The party stopped running.  “I . . . don’t suppose there’s a *back* door?” said Savina.

Nyoko and Unsuku responded with withering looks.  Sovereigns didn’t believe in back doors, apparently.  And even if there were, it would be no more reachable than the giant front one.

“Well, we’ve got to get through them, then,” Tavi said, his voice flat.

Arden shrugged, drew her dagger, and strode into the fray, past the statue, right up the middle of the mob.  Letting the blade flash dangerously in the sunlight, she nudged and pushed her way through the mass of bodies as if she had every right to be there.  Kormick followed on her heels, warhammers swinging to create space.  Savina dashed in, riding Kormick’s wake.  Many in the crowd ducked to avoid Arden's dagger and Kormick's hammers.  They cleared a path.  Some stopped pounding on the doors.  Then they noticed who they were making way for.

“Inquisitors!  Get them!”

The crowd closed behind them and descended on Twiggy’s friends.  “NO!”  Twiggy yelled involuntarily and clambered up onto the pedestal of the statue.  She cast at the crowd, creating in their minds the image of huge iron spikes falling from the sky.  Like a wave receding from the shore, for a moment, the crowd reeled away from the door, leaving Kormick, Savina, and Arden with a foot or two of breathing room.  

But one head seemed to rise above the crowd: a wiry Sovereign man with cropped hair and Sedellan robes.  “Inquisitors!”  he bellowed.  “They arrested Sister Sweet Scent!  Get them! Get them!” 

True Sedellan or not, the mob surged forward again, and pushed Kormick to the ground.  Twiggy could barely see Savina.  Someone threw a bottle at Twiggy.  She tried to duck, but it clipped her shoulder.  Another bottle shattered at her feet.  From one side of the courtyard, Nyoko was firing arrows into the crowd.  From the other side, Tavi’s flaming sword flew above the crowd and landed on the stairs, exploding in a gout of fire.  The crowd panicked and backed away.  Tavi’s sword re-formed in his hand.  _Well done._  There was briefly another little path, and Unsuku and Rose dashed through, toward the door.  Then they were surrounded, halfway to the door.  All Twiggy could do was dodge, as more bottles came, and kicks and blows landed on Rose, Savina, Arden…  Arden was bloody, barely standing, but she pulled Kormick to his feet, and they stood back to back, fending off attackers.

Mena’s voice rang out above Twiggy’s head.  “EVERYONE!  LEAVE NOW!”   She had climbed to the very top of the holy symbol of Kettenek, and even Twiggy—ten feet below, looking up the bronze surface of the holy symbol at her teacher—was intimidated.  Mena’s armor hissed and cried, the holy symbol of Sedellus roiling in and out of view on its breastplate.  The crowd turned to stare at Mena.  “NOW!”  Mena yelled again.  For a brief moment, the crowd was still.  

Some ran away.  Others just stared.

The wiry man’s head appeared again above the crowd.  “She’s with the Inquisitors!”  he yelled.  It shook the crowd back into action.  The mob pulled Savina to the ground, kicking her in the gut and face.  But a tiny space had opened up—just big enough for Twiggy to ignite her flaming sphere without killing anyone.  She did—the sphere _whooshed_ into being right in the middle of the square, at the base of the stairs.  The crowd backed away.  Some of their clothes ignited.  It gave Savina a chance to crawl away from her startled attackers.  Twiggy saw the now-familiar blue light of Savina's healing powers surround Arden.  Just seeing it made Twiggy feel better.  

Mena jumped down from the statue.  The ten-foot leap was impressive, and a few crowd members unthinkingly backed away as Mena waded forward into the crowd, swinging her sword, slashing and feinting and dodging bottles.  

The leader yelled again, rallying the mob.  “We outnumber them!  They’ve arrested our beloved Sister!”  With renewed energy, the crowd heaved again.  Twiggy could no longer see Arden and Kormick, no doubt pressed against the doors.  She struggled to keep the flaming sphere alive, moved it around, trying to open a path so that Nyoko and Tavi could get through.  Nyoko and Tavi were together now, and Nyoko aimed with an eerie stillness.  _Ssssssshick._  Her arrow flew over dozens of heads and planted itself in the leader’s head.  Then _sssssschick_ another followed.  The man fell out of sight.  Tavi roared, and his sword seemed to shatter into dozens of shards in its familiar magic attack, before re-forming in his hnd.  The crowd backed away, and Tavi and Nyoko pushed forward.

Twiggy couldn’t see any of her friends, now.  _There’s nothing more I can do from here,_ she thought, and prepared to teleport onto the crowded steps.  But then, as if from nowhere, Unsuku appeared.  “You’re the last one.  Rose is up there.  Come on.”  She grabbed Twiggy’s arm and pulled her into the crowd.  It hurt.  Suddenly, Twiggy was surrounded by a sea of noise, and pain in her shoulder, and kicks landing on her shins, and people stepping on her feet, and Unsuku was pulling her, and then there was the wood of the giant door, and her friends up against it.  Kormick and Arden had been borne down to their knees, but were still fending off attackers. Savina was curled into a ball on the ground behind them.  Nyoko, back to the door, was firing into the crowd.  Rose was pressed against the door behind Tavi, who was waving his flaming sword to keep the mob away.

Twiggy took a deep breath and moved the flaming sphere closer.  She could feel its heat, but it pushed the crowd away, and gave Kormick and Arden a chance to stand up.  Kormick stood in front of Savina.  “You don’t attack the Alirrian girl on my watch,” he said, and bashed two of their attackers hard in the gut.  They doubled over.  Kormick, Arden, and Mena stepped forward to create some space near the door.  The crowd backed off, but kept throwing bottles.  One hit Tavi in the head.  Shards shattered off, spraying everyone.  Blood bloomed on Kormick’s arm and Savina’s face.  

Something pulled on Twiggy’s leg, and she fell.  For a few moments, she couldn’t get her bearings.  The fighting surrounded her.  She closed her eyes and concentrated on keeping the ball of flame alive.  Behind her, she could hear Nyoko banging on the door.  “Open up!  It’s the Adepts!”  No response.  Then, more quietly, “It’s locked!  Arden, can you open this thing?”

Twiggy opened her eyes and slid herself back toward the door.  She held her orb, and unleashed its force at the crowd, pushing it away.  A couple of the attackers stumbled backward into others.  Arden had shifted behind her, and was beginning the exacting process of picking the door’s giant lock.  “We can’t hold them off for much longer,” Tavi said, ducking to avoid a bottle, which shattered against the door behind him.  Glass was everywhere beneath their feet.  _Where do they get all these bottles? Twiggy thought.

“Lady Chelesta,” Arden said—so formal, even now,—“it’s too heavy for my lockpicks.” 

Twiggy backed up and turned her head partway, taking one eye off the crowd.  “All right.”  She turned completely, then, but held the flaming sphere in her head, moved it to the back of her head just out of focus, kept it alive—closed her eyes, tried to shut out the chaos behind her—and pressed her hand against the door, reaching inside the locking mechanism with her mind, mentally following the rod of the lockpick into the lock’s giant tumblers.  There it is.  Using mage hand, she pushed upward on the tumbler, and with a little pop, it gave way.  “We’ve got it,” she said. 

 “The way this crowd is moving, we’re only going to have about six seconds to get through this door once it’s open,” Nyoko warned.  Twiggy opened her eyes and turned to see the crowd again, bearing down.  It was a mess. 

 “Kormick! Back here now!” yelled Mena, and he stumbled forward, covered in blood that Twiggy hoped was not his own.  He was barely standing, but he ran toward them.  Unsuku somersaulted under someone wielding a rock.  “Now,” Unsuku said, and it seemed too early—Kormick still seemed too far away, through the hostile crowd—but Nyoko pulled open the door and dashed through.  

Someone grabbed Twiggy’s foot.  She fell.  But the door was open just a few feet in front of her, and she squirmed her foot free, and crawled through.  Savina stumbled in beside her.  Tavi teleported past her, Rose in his arms.  Arden slipped in behind them.  Unsuku dove in over her.  Was Kormick too far away? Yes, but— Mena reached down the stairs, grabbed Kormick’s jacket and threw herself upward, pulling his limp, bloody body over the threshold.  They fell in a heap on the floor. Nyoko heaved the door shut.  Twiggy let the fireball die outside the door.

Twiggy rolled onto her back and looked up.  They were in a grand chamber of carved, polished marble, with ceilings two stories high, and balconies high above their heads.  A wide stairway led along the back wall up to dark hallways above.  Screams and dull thumps against the door echoed and bounced around the room.  Guards stared down at them, wide-eyed.

“Welcome Honored Adepts and Inquisitors,” one said.  “Kettenek be blessed that you have made it.”_


----------



## Jhereth Jax

I cannot wait to find out what happens next! The characters and the writing are just great and every time i read an update I'm reminded of how human the characters are and how they seem much more like real people and less like players trying to "win" at D&D. Keep up the awesome work and thanks for sharing!


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## ellinor

Many thanks, Zelc and Jhereth Jax!  Your comment about how the characters seem like real people reminds me of the end of the little Savage Worlds mini-campaign that JonRog1 just ran for us.  It started as a wild free-for-all of violence and adventure, and ended up with...touching character development.  (Well, touching character development AND an amazing final battle involving exploding dirigibles).  But the point is that when it comes to character development...we can't help ourselves.

A new update coming later today!


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## ellinor

*29x02*

Savina barely heard the guard who’d greeted them.  She was too busy pulling glass out of the gash in Kormick’s side.  “Alirria be blessed this didn’t go deeper,” she muttered.

Savina knew that Kormick was in terrible pain, but he didn’t show it as he addressed the guard.  “Young man, what is your name?”  

“Untaro,” said the guard, snapping to attention.

Kormick winced as Savina pulled out another shard.  She prayed, and Alirria’s energy coursed through her, staunching the bleeding where the glass had been.  “Well, Untaro-san, where might we find the Synod members?”  Kormick asked.

The guard answered readily.  “Brother Ono Arato of the Truest and Most Holy Lord Kettenek is in his office, and Brother Funaki of Ehkt is in Chambers with the Governor and the Mother Superior.”  Savina had almost forgotten that “Funaki,” not “Burnout,” was the Ehktian leader’s real name.  “Brother Trickling Fountain of Alirria never arrived, and we are holding Sister Sweet Scent—the treasonous Sedellan—for you downstairs.” 

_He thinks we’re here to arrest her for the riot,_ Savina realized, but Kormick was already playing along.  “Excellent work.  Untaro-san, I’m going to need you to go get five of your best men, and go downstairs to confirm for me that Sister Sweet Scent is secure.  Make sure she’s unharmed.  We’ll be along in a moment.”

“Yes, honored Inquisitor.”  Flattered, the guard spun eagerly on his heel and headed for the stairway.  As he did, Savina heard a voice echo in her head, as if someone were speaking to her from the end of a long hallway.  _“I am unable to enter the temple due to the mob,”_ the voice said.  _“There is a balcony on the Eastern wall.  Can you meet me there?”_  As the voice spoke, it became clearer, until Savina recognized it.  Savina was heartened by the voice:  It was the Honored Mother Satsuki, who led the Alirrian Underground River.  She belonged at this meeting.  After all, Brother Trickling Fountain was a mere figurehead, not even a real Alirrian worshipper.  This secretive woman was the true leader of the Alirrians of Cauldron.

That was all they needed to make a plan.   Kormick and Arden followed the guard downstairs to rescue Sister Sweet Scent.  Nyoko, Mena, and Rose went to Brother Ono Arato’s office to—they hoped—rally his support.  Savina, Tavi, and Twiggy headed for the eastern balcony to help the Honored Mother.  Unsuku would wait for Lord Ono and the other Inquisitors.  Everyone agreed to meet, as soon as possible, back at the Synod Chambers to apprehend the Mother Superior.

It wasn’t the original plan.  But in the original plan, there wasn’t a riot.  They had thought they would have ample time to consolidate support from the various Synod members while Lord Ono and the other Inquisitors arrested the Mother Superior for her many heresies.  Now, Lord Ono and the other Inquisitors were a mile away, surrounded by bottle-wielding rabblerousers, the Synod members were scattered and under guard, and Brother Burnout was already in the company of the Mother Superior.  But—as Savina observed to herself as she climbed the stairs—the group was getting better at improvising.

###

_DM’s NOTE: Obviously, this was pretty much the climax of the Skill Cascade.  The core challenges at this point were a series of Skill Challenges (6 before 3) to be made, one for each of the Synod members, in order to get them to the Mother Superior.  The DCs were determined by the sum total of modifiers they’d accrued against each of the Synod members (18 for Sweet Scent, 23 for Ono Arato, and 21 for Mother Satsuki).  The number of rounds it took to beat each skill challenge determined how long it took them to reach the Mother Superior… which determined the precise situation that they found when they reached her._ 

A temple page sat, dejected, on the floor outside Brother Ono Arato’s office, her back against the heavy wooden door.  She was hugging her knees and staring at the tile floor.

She lifted her face as Nyoko approached.  “I promise, I’ve tried.  He won’t come out. Please forgive me, Honored Adept, but this is . . . most awkward.  He won’t . . . he said . . . ”

“What is your name?”  Nyoko asked.

“Natsume,” the girl replied, resigned.

“Natsume-san, what did Brother Ono say?”

“It is of a . . . delicate nature,” the girl said, softly.

Nyoko leaned forward so the girl could whisper in her ear.  Still, the girl could barely utter it, even at a whisper.  “He said . . . he said I could not come in because he was engaged in an act of . . . an intimate nature with the Lord High Regent.”  The girl backed away and hugged her shoulders defensively.

_So he is willing to lie to keep people away._  Nyoko bowed slightly.  “You have performed your duties admirably, Natsume.  You may leave.”  

The girl dashed away, and Nyoko knocked on the door.  Brother Ono’s voice sounded gruffly in Nyoko’s head.  _You have no business here.  This is a broom closet._

From behind her, Mena replied aloud.  “Brother Ono.  We most desperately need a broom.”

_Go away._

Mena rubbed her hands together as if washing them, and shook her head in confusion.  She was hearing something in her head, although what, Nyoko could not imagine. “But there is no fish plague,” Mena said.

_And he is willing to use all of the tools at his disposal,_ Nyoko realized. “My Honored Lord,” Nyoko called through the door, “We have never lied to you, and we request the same courtesy.  Please do not try to manipulate our thoughts.”

_I hear your mother calling to you, asking you to come home,_ said Brother Ono’s voice in Nyoko’s head.  “Mother?  Home?”  Nyoko asked, knowing it must be wrong, but believing it, somehow, and turning to leave.  _My mother, calling . . ._ Nyoko thought, _no.  My mother is dead._  She felt tears, hot, just behind her eyes.

“How dare you make this woman cry,” Mena reprimanded Brother Ono through the door.

Slowly, Brother Ono opened the door.  He was disheveled, unshaven.  His hair hung loose and stringy against his shoulders.  There were bags under his eyes.  

“Don’t speak to me about what I can dare to do.  You have no idea of the responsibility you have heaped on my head.  By what you’ve dared to do.”  He glowered.

Rose stepped forward and spoke with a steady voice.  “Perhaps.  But I know something about having responsibility you don’t ask for.”  Brother Ono sighed.  Rose continued.  “You feel unqualified to take the place of the Mother Superior, which is what must happen if we expose her.  You’re worried that you’ll misuse your power.  But you won’t.  You’ve earned your position through hard work and merit.”

Brother Ono looked at Rose, heartbroken.  “Don’t you understand?  I don’t *know* whether I’ve earned my position!  I never knew I had these powers.  I don’t know whether my position is the product of work and faith, or telepathic pressure I didn’t even know I was exerting.”  He took a deep breath.  “The responsible thing for me to do would be to resign.  But then you would be forced to depend on the support of my second, Brother Oshi Arako.  He is an ambitious weasel.  He would help you, but for all the wrong reasons.”

“But you would help for the right reasons.  To make the world better.  Fairer,” urged Mena.  “You are where you are.  All you can do is move forward.”

“Move forward,” said Brother Ono.  “But I am the rock. The rock does not move.”

Nyoko looked into his haunted eyes.  “My parents were of the lowest peasant class,” she said.  “I became an adept because they were killed.  Now, at age 19, my word can condemn someone to death.  I have doubts about this responsibility, and it is precisely that doubt that makes me able to do my job.  I worry about the ones who *don’t* have doubts, not about the ones who *do*.  Our doubts tell us that we are striving for the right thing.  Your doubts are precisely what will make you lead well.”

Brother Ono looked back, and there were tears in his eyes, and he nodded.  “Give me a moment.”   His tone said the conversation was over.  His body language said they should leave.  Nyoko backed away, and motioned for the others to leave.  Brother Ono closed the door.  They stood outside it, wondering if he would reappear.

Then the door opened.  Brother Ono emerged, in a freshly pressed robe, his hair tied back in a tight knot, his face still unshaven, but somehow crisp.  Strong.  “Well, let’s get to the Synod Chamber,” he said, and pulled the door shut behind him.


----------



## ellinor

*29x03*

Tavi stared over the garden courtyard along the eastern wall of the Temple.  It was filled with people, trampling the shrubs and throwing debris at the temple.  A tall, intricately carved obelisk stood in the center, blotchy from rioters’ wet projectiles.  Across the way—50 feet away, he guessed, and a few feet lower than the Temple balcony—was another balcony, on another building, holding half a dozen people in Alirrian robes.  

_50 feet doesn’t seem so far on the ground,_ he thought.  _Up here, it might as well be a mile._

Fifty feet is nothing! Phoebe piped up, and flew back and forth to the other balcony several times, as if to prove it.

_Not helping, Pheebs,_ Tavi thought in reply.  The problem was that everything was just a bit too far away.  His sword allowed him to switch places with someone, but its range was only about 25 feet.  And even if that worked, he’d be stuck on the other side of the courtyard.  His boots allowed him to fly, but not that far.  He couldn’t teleport more than 25 feet, either.  

“I think I’ve got it,” said Twiggy.  “We just need to extend the range of that sword-switchy thing.”

“But then I’m stuck over there,” said Tavi, repeating his thought process. 

“You’ll need to teleport when you’ve flown about halfway back.  You worry about that.  I’ll do the sword.”  She knelt down and started pulling little bits of fur and feather out of a pouch, and muttering, touching the sword, calling on her vast knowledge of arcane forces to squeeze just a little more juice out of the spell.  “That should work,” she said, eventually, with enough confidence that he believed her.

He held the sword hilt with both hands and thrust its point downward at the stone of the balcony.  As it hit, _BAMF_, he felt the pull of its teleport power, and _WHUMP_, he felt the inhalation of rematerializing.  It had worked.  He was across the courtyard.  The Honored Mother was on the other side, with Savina and Twiggy.  They motioned for him to return.  He muttered pleasantries at the Alirrians around him, activated the boots, and aimed himself in an arc over the courtyard.  At the top of the arc, he felt himself start to fall, and Now! Now! said Phoebe, and he stared at the one empty spot on the balcony, and _BAMF_, he activated the teleport.  

It worked.  Savina put her hand on his shoulder.  “You are alright?” she asked.  Tavi nodded “yes.”

The Honored Mother looked from Tavi to Twiggy to Savina.  “I regret to tell you,” she said, with the slightest of smiles, “that Brother ‘Trickling Fountain’ met with an unfortunate accident earlier this morning.  He tripped and fell.  Into the very middle of the lake.”  She looked back toward the center of town and grinned, and then swept her robes to the side and led the way downstairs toward the Synod Chamber.  “Let us hope someone took the time to teach the titular head of the Alirrian church in Cauldron how to swim…”

###

“Sister Sweet Scent is in there?”  Kormick asked Untaro.  The young guard stood with five other fresh-faced young guards before a heavy door carved with a large symbol of Kettenek.  “And she hasn’t been harmed?”

Untaro nodded as he opened the door.

“Well done, all of you,” said Kormick, and clapped Untaro on the back.  “We need you upstairs now.  All of you.  Go up there; Adept Unsuku will tell you what to do.”  

In an impressive show of obedience, the guards followed Untaro down the hallway.  Arden hoped Unsuku would have enough sense to keep them out of harm's way with time-consuming, meaningless errands. 

For Arden and Kormick there were more pressing matters.  Inside the small, open room were dozens of baskets of scrolls—on shelves, on the floor—and two guards.  Behind the guards, manacled and sitting on the floor amidst the baskets, was an unhappy—but, to Arden’s relief, unhurt—Sister Sweet Scent.  Arden hardly expected the Temple to have official holding cells, but seeing Sister Sweet Scent imprisoned in a basement storeroom—it underscored the illegitimacy of her incarceration.

Kormick addressed the guards.  “Release her manacles.  We are here to take her into custody.”  _Jan “I never lie” Kormick,_ Arden thought wryly, wondering if the Justicar's mentor Brother Scribe had intended to teach his pupil that it was perfectly all right to mislead as long as you didn't _technically_ lie.  

“I have orders to hold her here,” said one of the guards.  

“We don’t have time for this,” Arden snapped.  “The Governor and the Mother Superior are waiting.”  She was no slouch at _technically_ not lying, herself.  

“We answer only to the Mother Superior herself,” said one guard.  “Not to _heathens_,” spat the other, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Arden heard the last of the five young guards’ footsteps disappear up the stairs, and did the math in her head.  Two remaining guards, possibly Tidesmen.  Kormick and herself.  

One innocent woman in chains on the floor.  

She took a step to the left of the guards.  Kormick took a step to the right of the guards.

“We won't ask again,” said Kormick.  One of the guards began to draw his sword.  “Simply release the prisoner to us, and—“

The guard’s sword was barely out of its sheath by the time Arden and Kormick had each lunged forward, flanking the guards between them.  Arden stabbed one in the gut and Kormick bashed him on the head with his warhammer.  Arden slit the other’s throat while Kormick broke his spine.  

Both guards were dead before they could even cry out.

Kormick picked up the bloody keys from below the heaped guards and unlocked the manacles.  “You two stay here,” he said, patting the dead guards with a sticky hand.  “And you,” he said to Sister Sweet Scent, “If you will join us in the Synod Chamber, we can put an end to this corruption once and for all.”


----------



## ellinor

*30x01*

Twiggy felt a gust of air as Unsuku pulled her head in and pushed the giant door closed, dulling, but barely quieting, the shouts of the crowd outside.  She, Tavi, and Savina had brought Mother Satsuki back in the giant marble entryway of the Temple to retrieve Unsuku and—they had hoped—meet up with Lord Ono and the Inquisitors.  

The silent grandeur of the rotunda contrasted with the roars, thumps, and scrapes of the riot surrounding them.   People were dying out there, Twiggy knew.  And she wondered whether arresting the Mother Superior would even be enough to stop it.

“There’s no sign of the Inquisitors.” Unsuku reported.  “They must be tied up handling the riot. We’ll have to do this ourselves.”

Kormick and Arden returned, with a weak-looking Sister Sweet Scent following close behind. “So all we have to do is go in there,” Kormick said, pointing down the marble hallway toward the Synod Chamber, “arrest the Mother Superior of the City, and we’re done.”

“You make it sound easy,” Nyoko said, as she, Mena, and Rose returned with Brother Ono Arato.

“Would you prefer I make it sound difficult?”  Kormick shrugged.  “Off we go.”

They had nearly reached the door of the Synod Chamber when two figures approached from the other direction.  Before Twiggy could even see who they were, Savina had stepped in front of Sister Sweet Scent.  “What is _she_ doing here?”  Savina’s voice was harsher than Twiggy had ever heard it.

Then she saw why.  Chief Questioner Mawu stepped into the light from one of the wall-torches.  Prime Inquisitor Yudai was right behind her.

“Honored Heathens!”  Yudai’s voice was almost jolly.  “We’re here to speak with the Governor, Lady Aga Emi.  Lord Ono-san informed us that she is meeting with the Mother Superior.  There’s a risk the Governor may declare martial law to quell the riot.  Lord Ono-san has delegated us to warn you that this would be a grave error.  The riot is a fraud, perpetrated by the Mother Superior and the Tide.”

Mawu remained silent, staring at Sister Sweet Scent, her face inscrutable.

Sister Sweet Scent strained at Savina and Arden, both of whom looked just about ready to let her go.  “Let me at her,” Sister Sweet Scent muttered.

“Ah!  Paperwork!  I remember you!” exclaimed Mawu, her eyes opening in recognition.  It didn’t help matters.

“If we can keep this coalition intact for the next 25 feet,” Kormick interjected, “it seems our agendas are alike.”

Sister Sweet Scent narrowed her eyes, but nodded.

Kormick pushed open the doors and strode in.  There it was:  the Mother Superior’s Main Audience Chamber.  A small room, with intricately carved marble walls and a low conference table in the middle.  But there was no one in the room.  Past the conference table, a set of lush jacquard curtains had been pulled back, revealing an enormous sanctuary lined with enormous marble columns.  Row upon row of satin cushions lined the floors, flanking a wide center aisle and facing a large, raised dais surrounded by a railing.  On the far wall, looming over the dais, was the largest symbol of Kettenek Twiggy had ever seen.  More than a dozen Temple guards lined the aisle.  Yet more guarded the dais.  The Mother Superior and Governor were at the far end, near the symbol of Kettenek.  Brother Burnout was on the dais steps, listening intently from the railing at its edge.

The Mother Superior wore a long, black robe.  Her gray hair was pulled back in a rigid bun.  Her voice echoed against the marble columns as she spoke to the Governor.  “It is of the utmost importance to put down an uprising such as this.”

_Bad news,_ Twiggy thought. _The Governor is listening.  Brother Burnout is listening, too.  They might think they’re restoring order, but they’d be playing right into the Tide’s hands._

“My Lady Governor,” Yudai announced, as he walked through the curtains into the sanctuary, “I bring an urgent message from the Inquisition.”  

Twiggy and the others followed him into the sanctuary and down the center aisle toward the dais.  Guards flanked them as they processed down the aisle. Twiggy could hear the echo of her footsteps.  She watched the guards out of the corner of her eyes and tried—as if it were possible—to make her shoulders more narrow.  

“You see, most honored excellency, this is what I’m talking about,” said the Mother Superior, pointing at Sister Sweet Scent.  “The Inquisition would rather free the wrongdoers behind the riots than keep our streets safe.”

The Governor remained silent.

They had reached the front of the sanctuary now.  The guards stood still behind them.  Kormick stepped up beside Yudai.  “A thousand pardons, Honored Governor-san and Brother Funaki-san,” he said, with a tiny bow, “but we really must speak with you.”  

_He’s getting better at Sovereign honorifics,_ Twiggy thought.  _It’s a good thing the Governor doesn’t know what we did to her son._

“Begging your pardon,” Nyoko said, from just behind Kormick, “They may be heathens, but you will find them to be just and of right mind.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Twiggy saw Brother Burnout.  He looked very confused.  Mena stepped toward him, crossing in front of a row of cushions.

Yudai spoke with a louder voice than before.  “The Inquisition has obtained irrefutable evidence of the Mother Superior’s involvement with the Restless Tide of the One True Path.  Mother Superior Kawazu Noriko, we are here to arrest you.”

An audible gasp spread through the room as the guards looked at each other.  Some looked shocked.  Others looked concerned.  Others looked angry.  But they stayed still.  _One word from the Mother Superior, and they’ll move,_ Twiggy knew.  Acorn burrowed deep into her pocket.  She could feel the mouse’s fear.

Brother Burnout’s jaw dropped and his eyes got wide.  He looked around himself with near-panic.  Mena looked him in the eye with a look Twiggy had seen many times before.  “Brother Funaki-san,” she said, “We stand here with the other members of the Synod to enact the will of the Lord High Regent.  We have the full weight of the united Circle behind us.  We need the force of a united Synod.  We _have_ a united Synod, but for you.  Now is the time to step forward.”    

_You’ve trained for this,_ Twiggy appended to the sentence, but she knew it wasn’t true.  Brother Burnout was completely unprepared for this.

“Heathens . . . the long way around the circle . . . unheard of . . .”  Brother Burnout said, shaking his head.  “And you say you have proof?”

Unsuku and Nyoko nodded and bowed in unison.  Twiggy knew this was her cue.  She waved her hand and the list of charges followed it:  their wall of evidence from the Inquisition, reproduced in glowing red.  Three-dimensional images of the wrongdoers and their links to the Mother Superior connected by shimmering lines.  The Hillside District conspiracy and Kawazu's confession implicating the the Mother Superior.  The wrongful arrest of Sister Sweet Scent.  Goro.  The information Arden had gotten from her Tide contact.  All of it. 

“It is Witnessed,” said Nyoko.  

“It is Witnessed,” said Unsuku.  Twiggy stepped back.

Brother Burnout furrowed his brows and his eyes flitted about the room.  “Brother Ono Arato.  Sister Sweet Scent. . . . Unprecedented.  Where is Brother Trickling Fountain?”

Mother Satsuki stepped toward him and squared her shoulders.  “Brother Trickling Fountain no longer speaks for Alirrians.  I am Mother Satsuki.  I now have that honor.”

Beside Twiggy, Rose rubbed her arms as if she was cold.  Twiggy—falling for a moment into the comfortingly familiar role of lady-in-waiting—queried with hand signals whether Rose wanted something to put around her shoulders.  She didn’t.  “It’s the sound of the crowd.”  Rose whispered.  “Like they want blood.” 

Brother Funaki sighed heavily.  

Mena’s eyes bored into him like spears.  Her voice hardened.  “Brother Funaki.  You know what is right.  Will you face this *challenge*?” 

He looked at Mena, and the Mother Superior, and Nyoko, and Mena again.  

“As the last member of the Synod,” Brother Burnout said to the Mother Superior, “I insist you submit to arrest.”

The Mother Superior scanned the room as if surveying a great vista.  “I’m afraid I must decline your invitation.”

A few of the guards fled.  

The rest drew their weapons.


----------



## Falkus

Reaching this point must have been incredibly satisfying; given how much time was spent on building up to it and work put in by the characters to make sure everything was prepared! I just hope I can pull off something equally awesome in one of my campaigns.


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## ellinor

Speaking as a player:  yes, it was tremendously satisfying!  I remember doing a little "end of the skill cascade" dance in the car on the way to gaming.  In the interest of full disclosure, however, I should be clear that I do a little "on the way to gaming" dance in the car on the way to gaming for pretty much *every* session.  

But to return to your question:  it was great to see how our earlier work in the skill cascade contributed to the likelihood of success in these last two sessions.  And of course, despite our herculean diplomatic and political machinations, we shouldn't have expected (and didn't expect!) to avoid a fight at the end!  Which was also satisfying, in a totally different way...

On an unrelated note, a few of us Halmae-types will be at Comic-Con in San Diego over the next few days.  If anyone else will be there, feel free to PM me and maybe we can meet up!


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## ellinor

*30x02*

Nyoko hadn’t expected the Mother Superior to submit easily.  But the Mother Superior was still acting like she was in charge.   And now they were surrounded by a dozen guards with katanas.

Prime Inquisitor Yudai began to grow magically, as Nyoko had seen him do before, until he was gigantic, nearly filling the space between two of the columns.  “Unsettling, isn’t it,” he said, in a booming voice, “for the Mother Superior of Kettenek to find both law and justice against her.”

Nyoko agreed, but that wasn’t what unsettled her most.  From months of research, she knew what this woman was capable of; some of the rumors were—literally—petrifying.  _She’ll kill us without a second thought._  With that thought echoing in her mind, the Honored Adept Nyoko drew her bow and loosed an arrow at one of the most revered religious figures in her country.  It hit its mark.  Right in the Mother Superior’s chest.  

The mother superior pulled out the arrow as if it barely stung.  “You dare to challenge me on *my* holy ground?”  

She raised her hands as if directing an orchestra, and suddenly *dozens* of spikes, three feet tall, shot up from the ground in the middle of the room, piercing pillows, sending feathers flying, making it hard to maneuver.  “AUGH!”  yelled Unsuku, as one stabbed upward into her arm.  Tavi was hit, too.  Nyoko looked down.  One had torn the leg of her pants.  A trickle of blood ran from her thigh.  Across the room, more spikes shot up.  One went straight through Yudai’s enormous foot.  They trapped Kormick where he stood.  

Something else was happening, too:  Rose was clutching her ears, as if to keep out a loud noise.  But all Nyoko could hear was the clash of katanas, as the guards heaved forward, attacking Savina and Mawu in the back of the group and Kormick in the front.  One of the guards who had been standing on the dais dashed at Kormick, sliced across his front twice with incredible force, and dashed away, slicing Yudai’s ankle and Arden’s shoulder in the process.  Arden stabbed as he went by, barely catching his arm.  The other two guards from the dais moved with similar speed—faster than Nyoko’s eyes could follow. Nyoko had never seen anyone move that fast before, not even an Adept.  And Kormick clearly hadn’t either.  He was in bad shape.  But there was nothing Nyoko could do to help him.  She ducked behind a pillar and kept shooting arrows at the Mother Superior.

Savina began to run for Kormick, but beside her, Mawu groaned.  Blood bloomed from Mawu’s gut and stained her robes.  She coughed in pain.  Savina stopped running, took a deep breath, grasped both of Mawu’s shoulders, and prayed aloud:  “May Alirria open your heart.”  The blue light of healing coursed through her hands.  Mawu reached down to feel her gut, as the healing took effect, and looked Savina in the eyes.  Then she looked past Savina at the three guards rushing them.  “I have something for you,” she said, calmly drawing something sharp and shiny out of the bag at her waist. The guards turned and fled.

At the corner of the dais, Mena and Brother Funaki were back to back, fending off guards.  “Everybody move!” Mena yelled instructions from her higher vantage point.  “Arden!  Look out!”  she yelled, too late.  Arden got another swipe from one of the fast-moving guards.    “And Justicar,” Mena yelled to Kormick, who was on his knees, bleeding and trapped by the spikes, “pull it together.  I need you to not die.”  

Kormick wrested himself from the spikes and stood up.  “Aye aye,” he said, and held up his warhammers just in time to release his electrical attack on three approaching guards.

Twiggy and Tavi were in the middle of the room, unleashing fire.  Tavi threw his sword into a knot of muscular guards, and it burst into flame before re-forming in his hand.  Twiggy cast something, and they all fell over.  One landed on a spike.  Brother Ono picked up another in a wrestling hold and pinned him on a spike.  Mother Satsuki touched a third and green-black necrotic energy spread from the spot where she touched him.  He fell where he stood.  _The Synod members know this is their fight, too,_ Nyoko realized.  

“THEY WON’T STOP THEY WANT TO KILL US THEY WANT TO KILL ME!”  Rose yelled, grasping her ears and doubling over in pain.  Something was clearly very, very wrong with Rose, but Nyoko couldn’t tell what—only that Rose was panicked, in pain, and too far away to help.  Twiggy—who was closer—ran to Rose’s side and shielded her.  A curtain of flame burst from Twiggy’s orb, immolating a couple of guards.  

And then Nyoko felt something too, something in her head, something sharp, not a noise, exactly, but . . .

Nyoko blinked, hard, and then looked around.  Yudai had somehow gotten on to the dais, and he hit the Mother Superior, hard.  Savina prayed, and a blinding shaft of light hit the Mother Superior.  The Mother Superior shrieked as the light blinded her.  _Now she can’t see to defend herself,_ Nyoko thought, aiming her bow.  _Finally maybe an advantage…_ 

…but everyone else was getting pummeled.  Tavi and Twiggy were stuck on spikes.  The fast guards almost seemed to be bouncing around the room, leaving wounds on everyone.  Mena had been hit so many times her armor was gurgling, its whispering mouths choked with blood.  Arden, who had joined Nyoko behind the pillar, hit the Mother Superior with a flying dagger, and again it seemed barely to hurt her at all.  Nyoko realized: every time the Mother Superior was hit, the guards were somehow absorbing it.

Kormick saw it too.  He yelled “They’re—” but before he could say anything else, he had been turned to stone.  

The Mother Superior could channel the might of Kettenek to turn people to stone.  Nyoko had heard the rumor, but she hadn’t believed it.  Now she knew it was true.

“A Justicar, turned to stone by a criminal.  I don’t understand Kettenek,” Arden muttered.

A group of guards was closing in on their pillar.  Nyoko tried to slow them down with arrows.  Another group was closing in on Mena and Savina up near the dais.  One of them, a tall one, jammed his katana down into Mena’s chest.  Tavi ran at him, and stabbed his flaming sword into his back, and he fell, but it was too late.  Mena dropped to the ground.  Savina knelt beside her.  

Rose clutched her head and screamed again, and Twiggy fell to her knees, and Nyoko felt it again, too, that thing in her head.  She heard the roaring of the angry crowd outside.  She heard a whisper, saying something . . . she blinked hard again, and the whisper went away, but the rioting crowd stayed loud, as if she was in the middle of the fray . . . Nyoko tried to concentrate on the very real fighting around her.  She saw Mena regain consciousness and stumble to her feet.  Then one of the guards charged at Rose.  He sliced her arm with his katana, and there was nothing she could do.  Blood covered the side of her robe.  She was obviously in pain . . .

On the dais, Brother Funaki created some sort of explosive swirl of color and light, and one of the bigger guards collapsed.  Sister Sweet Scent said a few words and a gust of wind whipped across the Mother Superior’s eyes, which were still blank and blind from Savina’s assault.  But the Mother Superior snarled and clenched her fist, and more spikes grew in the floor.  It left barely a foot of moving space in the whole sanctuary.  The whole room was hazardous.

“BE QUIET!” screamed Mena, and grasped her head, and then—like Kormick on the other side of the room—she turned to stone.

_Kill,_ came the whisper in Nyoko’s head, and this time she could hear what it was saying.  _Make the sacrifice of death . . . Kill Roseanna di Raprezzi . . ._


----------



## coyote6

Yikes! That's a nasty fight. Can't wait to see how it turns out.

So, is the game still going on in July 2012?


----------



## Jenber

coyote6 said:


> Yikes! That's a nasty fight. Can't wait to see how it turns out.
> 
> So, is the game still going on in July 2012?



Oh, yes...yes, it is.

I am actually sitting here on our little yellow couch *grinning* just thinking about our upcoming session.  (And there's plenty of story still coming to a story hour near you, too.)


----------



## ellinor

*30x03*

Nyoko shivered at the unfamiliar voice in her head. It wasn’t Brother Ono—it wasn’t anyone she recognized—and the force of its terrible command threatened to shake all of her considerable willpower.  

Nyoko took a deep breath.  There were still seven guards—two of them inhumanly fast, but on fire from Twiggy’s fire spell—and everyone was in bad shape.  Mena and Kormick were petrified.  Savina, Twiggy, and Mawu seemed at death’s door.  Tavi was surrounded.  Yudai was immobilized on spikes.  Rose was—at best—insane.  Nyoko concentrated and aimed for one of the guards.  Her arrow flew wide.

Arden was hurt, but still moving:  she ran at one guard, stabbed him in the chest, swept her arm across his face, flipped the knife in her hand, and stabbed him in the back as she ran past.  That left six guards.  

Tavi spun where he stood, knocking down two of the guards who surrounded him.  They didn’t move.  Tavi chased the third one on to the dais, and slashed him with his flaming sword.  The guard tumbled down the stairs in a heap.  That left three guards.  But Tavi staggered, clearly on the edge of consciousness.  

Mawu stared at the three remaining guards.  “Come here,” she said, her voice steady despite her near-fatal injuries.  “I have something to show you.”  She reached into her bag again, and something glinted.  Even Nyoko found it unsettling.  Two of the guards fled.  One remained.

_Kill,_ Nyoko heard again, in her head.

###  

Kormick blinked his eyes open and took a great gulp of air.  His vision cleared quickly, but his chest was tight.  His limbs were weak, and he felt disoriented.  A moment ago, he had been surrounded by fighting.  Now, up on the dais, Yudai was immobilized and Tavi was bleeding, taking great heaving breaths, Arden was bleeding profusely against a column, Twiggy was unconscious, Mawu was barely standing . . .  Rose was curled in a ball on the floor, clutching her head.  Nyoko was the only healthy party member, and she was loosing arrows at an impossibly fast guard, the only one remaining . . . Where were Savina and Mena?  Kormick felt the slightest bit of panic rise in his chest.  Both of them had been turned to stone.  The Mother Superior stood in the center of the dais, virtually unscathed, rebuffing the Synod members one by one.

Rose cried out with a throaty scream.  “MAKE IT STOP!”

_She hurt Mena.  She hurt Savina._  Kormick was boiling mad.  But he didn’t have the strength to move.  He heard a buzzing in his head.  It rose to a roar, and then quieted to a hiss.  _Kill Rose.  Kill Roseanna di Raprezzi._  The voice kept repeating.  He wanted it to stop.  It wouldn’t.

Nearby, Arden stabbed the last remaining guard, but he didn’t go down.  Instead, he dashed up on to the dais and spat at Yudai’s enormous foot.  “That’s for you and your Affirmation,” he snarled.  

Kormick finally felt strength in his legs again, and he snapped into action.  He ran up the stairs, vaulted the railing, and fired his crossbow at the last guard.  THUNK.  The guard went down.  “And that’s just for you,” Kormick said.  

Then he turned to the Mother Superior, who finally had no one left to help her.  “And now for you,” he said.

###

Mena gasped and felt consciousness return.  But with consciousness returned the voice, that hissing, whispering voice.  _Kill Roseanna di Raprezzi,_ it said. _It’s your duty.  Your responsibility.  Make the sacrifice.  Kill her._

_No,_ thought Mena, and willed her legs to move.  They felt slow and stiff.  She couldn’t make them work.  Mena seethed.  She had no patience for stiff legs when there was a Mother Superior to beat.  On the dais, Arden and Tavi flanked the Mother Superior, and Yudai attacked her from the front with bladed might.  Kormick dashed behind her and pounded her with his warhammers.  _Good.  Kormick’s okay._  One of Nyoko’s arrows flew right past Yudai and into the Mother Superior’s chest.  Brother Ono Arato tackled the Mother Superior backward into the wall.  Finally, they were doing some real damage.

Away from the dais, Twiggy was barely conscious, but she and Savina were attempting to minister to Rose, who was rocking and screaming, unresponsive.  Suddenly Twiggy wheeled, reached into her bag, and charged up the stairway to the dais.  “You’re hurting her,” she said, and threw a bag of acid at the Mother Superior.  It barely reached the woman, but Mena could see her skin burn where it hit, and the Mother Superior growled in pain.  _Good girl,_ Mena thought.  _Use what you have._

Rose seemed lucid for a moment.  She sat up and gripped Savina’s arm so hard the skin around her hand went white.  “Don’t let them kill me,” she said.

“Never,” Savina replied.

Mena began to feel control in her legs again.  She limped forward, but was still too stiff to take more than a few steps.   _Kill Roseanna,_ said the voice, again.   Mena concentrated on driving the voice out of her head, but couldn’t.  And though she tried, she couldn’t ignore it. She tried to place it:  whose voice was it?  But she couldn’t do that either.  It didn’t sound familiar.  Just a nameless whisper, insistent, angry, eager, with an increasingly irresistible command . . . 

But then there was another voice, a familiar one.  A voice she’d yearned to hear since she was a child.  A voice that she had known she’d never hear again.  The voice whose loss had turned her into a Defier.  _Don’t listen,_ it said.  _You don’t have to listen._

Mena felt a flood of confusion.  That new voice, so clear, so familiar, so impossible.  Maybe it meant she was going crazy.  Or maybe—just maybe—it meant Ehkt hadn’t given up on her.

She saw Kormick, up on the dais, two steps from the Mother Superior.  He cocked his head, as if listening to something.  He smiled.  He looked down at Mena.  

“Jan!”  Mena yelled up to the dais.  “Will you hit that Mother Superior bitch for me, please?”  

“You bet,” he replied.  And then he did.  He swung hard and hit the Mother Superior right in the kneecap.  There was a cracking noise. 

###

Nyoko stared down the shaft of an arrow at the Mother Superior’s head and adjusted downward to follow the head as the Mother Superior’s knee buckled, then collapsed.

“Yes, kill me,” said the Mother Superior, raising her head—another arrow adjustment—and looking from Kormick to Yudai.  “That’ll resonate with the people.  Let the word spread that heathen members of the Inquisition killed the Mother Superior in defiance of Kettenek’s law.  The Sovereignty will explode against the godling worshippers . . .”

“We won’t kill you,” said Kormick.  “But you’ll wish we had.”

The whisper in Nyoko’s head spoke again.  _Kill the Mother Superior,_  it said.  _Do it._

_We are here to arrest her, not to kill her,_ Nyoko inwardly told the voice.

_Let the word spread that the Sedellan mob killed her,_ it continued. _None will be the wiser._ 

_I am an Adept,_ Nyoko insisted to herself.  _And I must Witness what I see._

_You are but one voice against the roaring of the wind,_ the voice said, insistent, and for a moment, Nyoko believed it.

Then: _No,_ she thought.  _I am Nyoko the Adept.  I Witness the truth.  I am the rock.  The rock does not move._  She shifted her aim downward, and let the arrow fly.  It landed perfectly in the Mother Superior’s shoulder.  

The Mother Superior stumbled, then fell forward, unconscious.  And as she did, the voice in Nyoko’s head, and the fighting outside, grew quiet.


----------



## ellinor

*31x01*

Rose bent down to pick up a piece of torn cloth from the ground.  It skittered out of her reach, caught on the wind, and landed a few steps away among a small pile of glass shards and debris.  She lurched after it for a few steps, before the wind caught it again, blowing it again out of reach.  The city streets were empty of people now—the military and the Inquisition had cleared them—but they were still littered with wreckage, mental and (Rose could not help thinking) emotional, of the riot.  The cloth flitted out of sight.  Whisper flew after it.  He returned a moment later with the scrap caught in his talons.

It was nearly dusk, and they were walking to services for Sedellus Rising—or Sedellus Fallen, as the Sovereigns called it.  After they had arrested the Mother Superior, Yudai had searched her office and quarters, and had found a wealth of evidence that not only further incriminated the Mother Superior, but also revealed future plans of the Tide.  Everyone else’s mood was somber, but hopeful, as they walked:  They had, no doubt, undermined the Tide’s plans for Cauldron.  By doing so, they hoped, they had brought themselves one step closer to meeting Lady Akiko, the head of the Inquisition in the Sovereignty and heir to the Lord High Regent, and to fulfilling the first admonition of the Prophecy about Rose’s destiny.  _Find the last breath of the dying king…_ 

But, Rose knew, it had come at a price—_everything about me comes at a price,_ Rose thought,  feeling the exhaustion deep inside her, an exhaustion as deep as any she’d felt.  She recalled the anger of the rioters, the voice in her head telling her that their efforts were futile, that she needed to die, that she should let herself be killed, that her friends would kill her . . .

Tavi, walking beside her, put his arm around her shoulder.  “Easy now.  You’re safe now,” he said, and squeezed her shoulder comfortingly.  Tavi could always read her expressions.  She took a deep breath and tried to feel safe, tried to remember _safe._  Her mind wandered to Taku, and their night together, how it had felt.  It was the only thing she could think of that felt safe—or easy, for that matter.

As the sun began to set, the services began, with Sister Sweet Scent—bruised, but strong—presiding.  “It’s the first time ever that a priest of a Godling has presided,” Nyoko explained as they filed into the pavilion, surrounded by Cauldron’s elite.  But if that was revolutionary, the service was still foreign, as Sister Sweet Scent, rather than praying for Sedellus to grant the bounty of autumn harvest, praised Kettenek and the earth for the crops it provided.  

Nyoko raised an eyebrow when Sister Sweet Scent praised the earth as “it,” rather than “he.”  Perhaps this service was a change, after all.

Of course, even a Hennan service for Sedellus Rising would have been foreign to Rose’s experience.  At home, Sedellus Rising was her mother’s annual “locking of all the doors and staying inside” ceremony.  “Weird to be out on Sedellus Rising, isn’t it?” Twiggy whispered as they retired from the service to dinner beside the pavilion, hosted by the Ring of the Priesthood.   The meal was, like so many Sovereign meals, a combination of simple and sumptuous, delicious and disgusting, carried by servants on massive platters to the silk-lined tables.  The group had its own table, near the front of the room, away from the other tables.  A position of honor.

“If you get the button, don’t swallow it,” Nyoko advised.  

“Wait, which one is mutton?”  asked Kormick.

“Not mutton, Honored Justicar.  Button.”  Nyoko followed up with an explanation of Sovereign holiday tradition:  One of the dishes contained an inedible button, made of amethyst.  It apparently represented the poison with which Sedellus betrayed Rikitaru.  Whoever got it was said to “have the Lady’s eye on them,” for good fortune or ill.

Over dinner, they chatted about their fight with the Mother Superior.  All agreed that it was frightening, and serious.  Nyoko pointed out that it was, from a historical standpoint, unprecedented.

“Will there be stories about us someday?”  Twiggy asked, with a combination of eagerness and trepidation.

“No doubt songs are already being written,” Nyoko replied.

“I prefer to think that when they tell stories of us, you’ll all be played by very famous actors,” Kormick said, indicating the rest of the group, “and I’ll be played by the clown that survives at the end.  That’s how I sleep at night.”  

Everyone laughed, but Rose knew that even Kormick wouldn’t find it easy to sleep that night.  The topic shifted to the events of the fight itself.  

“It was terrible,” was all Rose could bring herself to say as the others discussed what each had heard in their heads.  Savina comforted her.  

“We should be encouraged that we are stronger than the voice,” said Nyoko.

“But what was the voice?”  Twiggy asked.  “Who was it?”

“The first voice, I don’t know,” said Kormick, “but the second was my sister.”

“What second voice?”  asked Tavi.

“Telling me not to kill Rose.  My sister,” Kormick continued, matter-of-factly, “must be an angel of Alirria.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” said Twiggy.  “People don’t become angels.  But . . . I don’t mean to say . . . I mean . . . I believe you heard her.  Just not—anyway, I just heard the one voice.”  Twiggy looked down, guilt sounding in her voice.  Rose touched her hand lightly.  Twiggy couldn’t help what she heard.  

“I also heard two voices,” said Mena.  “The whispering telling me to kill Rose, and then another.  The voice of my mentor at the Keeper’s temple.”  She gazed for a moment at the scars on her hands and arms.  “He said I had a choice.”

“And you, Arden?”  Twiggy asked.  “Did you hear a second voice?”

“Yes,” Arden replied.  “A—a friend, who died when I was enslaved.”  She ran her thumb along her cuff, as she so often did.  “He told me ‘no, you need not do this.’” 

No one could explain the voices—only that they were powerful.  And that, following their ordeal, everyone was thankful that Rose was safe.

_Safe,_ Rose repeated in her mind as they walked home.  _Safe,_ she thought, as she silently, secretly, fingered the amethyst button in her pocket.


----------



## Seonaid

Great update, thanks!


----------



## ellinor

*31x02:  Interlude*

Thanks, Seonaid!  

This week we have a Very Special Treat:  A guest post from Jenber, providing us the wonderful, dark (and mysterious!) tale that is Mena's backstory.  I should note that this was, essentially, as played:  Twiggy actually asked Mena about her personal history during this session, which was when I (and Twiggy!) first learned it.  Many thanks to Jenber for writing it up.

###

31x02: Interlude

Mena suspected that Twiggy had something on her mind.  The girl had been giving her curious sideways looks since dinner, and Mena knew from experience that when Twiggy wanted to know something, she generally did her best to find out about it.  Better to have it out before her student exploded with the effort of trying not to say anything in front of the others.  It was with that in mind that Mena waited until everyone had gone their separate ways to pack, and then knocked on Twiggy's door.

"I thought you might like some help packing your things and Rose's."

They packed in silence for no more than a minute before Twiggy dropped a pouch of sundries onto her bedroll and blurted, "Mena, can I ask you a question?"

Mena smiled to herself as she calmly folded a tunic: she'd expected to have to wait at least twice that long.  "Always."

"You never talk about your past--and I don't want to pry--but at dinner you said that when we were fighting the Mother Superior you heard the voice of your mentor at the Keeper's temple.  Was--well--who was he?"

Mena was silent for a moment.  She'd expected that question.  She'd even thought that she had a nice, pat answer that would probably satisfy Twiggy enough to put the matter to bed, at least for now.  Just now, though, looking at the earnest young woman in front of her, Mena found that she herself was unsatisfied with the easy half-truth she'd prepared.

She sighed heavily.  "Very well.  You remember what I told you about my family, back in the Ketkath?"

Twiggy answered as if reciting a lesson she'd learned by heart.  "Your father's business partner cheated him and altered records so that it looked like your family was in debt.  You were only four and your mother took you to the Keepers' temple so you'd be safe, but your parents and two older brothers were sold into slavery.  You don't know where they are...and you don't want them to know that you became a Defier, but you didn't tell me why."

Mena's mouth twitched up in the fraction of a smile her students recognized as approval.  "Just so.  The why happened eight years after my mother left me with the Keepers and has directly to do with who my mentor was.  It's not a happy story, mind, and I am not a hero in it.  Are you sure you want to hear it?"

Twiggy nodded her head, just once.  Mena picked up one of Rose's formal sovereign dresses, and as she folded it carefully along its long length, began to tell a story full of shadows and fire.


* * *

Brother Spark was supposed to be asleep.  She would have been, too, if someone outside hadn't made such a racket as they approached the Keepers' temple.  The moon was still high in the sky; dawn was still far away.  

Perhaps if she just lay here quietly and ran through her lessons in her head that would put her back to sleep: the major export of Dar Karo was exquisite handcrafted items; the modern Alirrian Givers had been founded by Mother Amaryllis three hundred and forty-two years ago in Dar Pykos; the new king of Dar Und, Lukas von Volken, had so far cut down on crime in the city--mostly by being better at it than the criminals, which Spark respected as a strategy; fire required as fuel both flammable material and air; a proper set of martial forms should be performed with perfect attention to every muscle until one no longer needed to pay attention to any of them to achieve perfection.

Spark closed her eyes and tried to will herself to sleep.  The soft murmur of voices floated in from outside and broke through her concentration.  "Ehkt's balls," she swore under her breath, then glanced around to see that the other students were still asleep and hadn't heard her: Brother Shining, her favorite teacher among the Keepers of Light, didn't like his students to swear, and some of the others were tell-tales.  Shining said that a mind that truly strove to reach intellectual excellence had no need of coarse language.  Spark saw no reason why she couldn't do both, and anyway, the teachers among the Keepers of Flame swore about as often as they drew breath, so it seemed likely that Ehkt himself might be of two minds about it.  Spark reasoned that until she chose to devote herself to either intellectual excellence as a Keeper of Light or physical excellence as a Keeper of Flame, she could probably get away with the occasional expletive, as long as she did it very quietly and didn't get caught.

"Brother Shining won't like that, you know."  The voice was pitched low and was shockingly close to Spark's pillow.  She started and twitched gracelessly into a defensive crouch that owed more to the constant repetitions of maneuvers in her various drills than to any real intention on her part.

"You wouldn't strike a cripple, would you?  That would almost be worse that the swearing."  The voice shook a little with the effort of holding back laughter.  Spark relaxed and nearly toppled off her bed.  It was Brother Kindle, her very best friend and frequent co-conspirator.  

"What are you doing awake?"  she whispered, half-accusingly.  "Normally you could sleep through the whole temple coming down around your ears."

Kindle shifted his weight to lean more heavily on the sturdy stick in his left hand.  He didn't like to use the crutch more than he had to, Spark knew, but sometimes the twist in his bad leg made it hard for him to stand for very long or move very quickly.  "Voices outside, talking to at least three of the teachers.  They woke me up.  Something about them seemed...wrong."

Spark rolled her eyes in the dark.  "How can voices seem wrong?"

"I don't know.  They just...don't belong here.  We need to go out and have a look."

Spark snorted, then froze a moment as nearby student shifted in his bunk.  "What in the name of Ehkt's hairy hindquarters would we do even if they were up to something?  I'm sure the teachers don't need our help to deal with a couple of strangers."

Kindle grabbed her arm with his free hand.  "We can't just do nothing.  If there's something bad happening, we have to at least try.  If it's nothing, we'll come right back in and I'll give you my dessert for a week."  

In the pale wash of moonlight from the dormitory window, Spark could just make out the concern on Kindle's face.  It wasn't unusual for her friend to worry; frankly, sometimes Spark thought Kindle could be a bit paranoid.  It _was_ unusual for him to instigate the kind of trouble they'd be getting into by sneaking out and spying on the teachers and their mysterious guests this late at night, though.  Very unusual, actually.  Their teachers always said that Kindle would be an exemplary Keeper of Light with his thoughtful approach to the world, while she would be better as a Keeper of Flame.  Well, except for Brother Shining: he always said that she was every bit the thinker Kindle was, she just lacked the discipline that came naturally to her friend.  He seemed to think it was something she could learn.  She sighed.  This was apparently not the night to start on discipline.  There was luck for you.

"Okay.  Let's go have a look.  Remember, you said dessert for a _week._"  She swung her legs out of bed and pulled on shoes as silently as she could manage.  She crept quickly to the door and eased it open as Kindle made his slower way across the room.  The door closed noiselessly behind them, and the two young Keepers stood in the cool autumn breeze listening for voices.  The sounds of heated conversation drifted out from the temple's main building, and Spark and Kindle snuck over to the closest window.

The window was closed and latched from inside.  The talking inside wasn’t loud enough to be intelligible, but Spark recognized Brother Shining's voice among the jumble of sounds.  He didn't sound happy.

"We have to look over the sill.  Help me balance," whispered Kindle.  Spark nudged a fist-sized rock out of their way and hooked one arm around Kindle's waist as they both stood on tiptoe to peer into the room. 

At first, Spark couldn't see much of anything: the window was strangely dark.  Then the darkness moved away and she realized that it had been a black hooded cloak worn by someone standing very near the window.  As the figure moved away, Spark saw that there were several other people in dark cloaks standing throughout the room, their faces obscured by the shadows cast by the heavy hoods.  

Brother Shining was shaking his head at one of them and saying something that didn't seem terribly friendly.  The other teachers in the room were nodding their heads in agreement with Brother Shining, and one of the Keepers of Flame had, almost unconsciously, settled her weight onto her back leg in what Spark recognized immediately as a defensive stance.

Spark glanced at Kindle.  "This is bad," she said.  "Who are those people?"

Kindle shook his head.  "I don't know.  I just don't know.  I need a minute to think."

Spark opened her mouth to reply but the words stuck in her throat as she heard Brother Shining shout loudly enough for his words to penetrate the thick glass of the window.  "Ehkt's balls!"  The absurdity of Brother Shining, of all people, being mad enough to swear nearly made Spark laugh out loud.  

Then—with no warning—the room inside exploded into one giant mass of fire.

Spark heard Kindle scream, then realized she was screaming, too.  Brother Shining and the others were on fire, and there was no way out of that room through the flames.  "Do something!"  Kindle screamed.  Spark looked around frantically, and caught sight of the rock she'd moved away earlier.  Maybe, if she was lucky....

Spark let go of Kindle and hefted the rock.  Without stopping to think, she slammed the heavy stone against the window to break the glass and let Brother Shining and her other teachers--her brothers--out.

Fire requires air to survive.  

As the window shattered, the fire surged out into the night in search of fuel.  It found not only the night breeze, but also the tender skin of the two young keepers.  Spark threw her arms up in front of her and felt the flames sear through her hands and forearms, making them blister and crack.  Dimly, through the excruciating pain, she was aware of Kindle's initial scream, and then his quiet gasping.  

She would learn later that he'd been clinging to the wall where she'd left him and hadn't been able protect himself from the fire.  It had washed across his unprotected face and chest before subsiding back into the burning building.  She would also learn that she had crawled to his side and deliriously tried to fight off the Keepers who had rushed out from the other buildings at the sounds of screaming.  It had taken three Keepers of Flame to hold her back so that others could tend to Kindle, and they held her until she finally succumbed to the pain and a horrible, deep blackness.

Many hours later, Spark woke alone in the dormitory to find her hands and arms wrapped in bandages.  The light of the day she'd missed was beginning to give way to twilight, and sounds of crying and angry voices drifted into her from all directions--the Keepers were mourning.  An Alirrian Giver came to Spark's bed with a glass of water.  "We're glad to see you awake, little one.  Those burns of yours are healing, but they're going to need a bit of extra attention if we're going to prevent scarring."  

Spark stared at the Giver as if he had suggested that she put on a pretty dress and worry about her hair.  He seemed to guess that scars were the very last thing on her mind and had the grace to color slightly.  "I know that doesn't seem important now, but scars can make your hands stiffen if you don't care for them properly."  

Spark continued to stare at him.  Finally, she croaked, in a voice still raw from smoke, "What happened?"  Once the Giver had given her a few details--where she'd been found, how she'd fought to protect her friend, the sort of injuries Kindle had--she asked the worst question: "Where is Kindle?"

The Giver looked away from her.  "I'll find one of the brothers to come talk to you.  You drink that and try to rest."  He stood and walked quickly away.

Spark clenched her fists, ignoring the waves of pain from her damaged skin.  The Giver's behavior meant only one thing: Kindle was dead.  And if Kindle was dead, it was her fault.  She broke the glass and brought the fire down on them, she left him clinging to the wall unable to get away on his own.  She had acted without discipline, and she had killed her best friend.  Brother Shining would be so disappointed...he could never forgive her for this.

In an instant Spark realized that Brother Shining truly would never forgive her: he was dead, too.  She was on her feet and out the door before she realized what she was doing.  She made her way to the ashes of the temple and fell to her knees in a cloud of soot that rose up around her like an extra shadow.  She closed her eyes and began to pray to Ehkt: for help, for some sort of penance, for forgiveness.  She waited there, among the ashes, for an answer until the last of the light was extinguished from the sky.

No answer came.  Spark knew why:  Ehkt clearly did not want the prayers of a girl who hadn’t thought things through.  Whose impulsive actions had killed her brother.  Ehkt clearly did not forgive her.  She would not bother him again.

Spark turned from the ruins of her temple home and began to walk steadily away.  She did not return to the dormitory for her things.  She did not say goodbye.   She did not look back.  


* * *

Mena looked up from the stockings she'd just finished folding.  Twiggy had stopped packing and was gripping a silk scarf so tightly it seemed in danger of fusing to her hands.  

Mena reached over and gently eased the crushed fabric out of the girl's fingers.  As she smoothed it out, she continued, "I wandered for a few days until I ran into a group of Defiers.  Defiers, as you know, all come to the sect because some catastrophe has broken them past all hope of repair.  The one thing they have left is a desire to spend whatever life they have left pitting themselves against Sedellus's evil in whatever ways they can.  So I studied the things that would help us thwart the Bitch.  I learned that Sedellus is a harsh mistress who demands that her followers dare to defy her, and destroy themselves if necessary to stop her.  I began to believe that any learning is meaningless if not used against Sedellus, and that strength without purpose will wither and die.”  Mena added, almost to herself, “Fire cannot live without Air."

Twiggy managed a question.  "Weren't you young to join a group like that?  You were only twelve."

Mena gave a shrug.  "I had to make a fair argument to the Sisters.  But Defiers don't generally turn anyone away if they truly want to be there.  Have you noticed that Defiers all have rather hideous names?"  

Twiggy shook her head, puzzled.  "Philomena' isn't hideous."

Mena chuckled.  "'Philomena isn't my formal name.  Defiers all take names that represent the event that brought them to the sect, to remind them of the reasons why Sedellus must not be allowed to go unchecked.  My formal name is Dame The Searing.  When I was told that my next assignment would be teaching a young noble girl and her brother, I adopted something less...menacing, so as not to frighten my students before I'd even opened my mouth.  It seemed only sporting."

Twiggy was quiet for a long moment.  "Dame Mena," she ventured.  "I don't think you did anything wrong."  Mena stiffened, but Twiggy went on.  "You were trying to save your teachers, and Kindle wanted you to do anything you could to save them.  It was an accident."

Mena folded a final pair of stockings.  "Sometimes we mean well and do great harm anyway," she said softly.  "Our intentions might be very admirable indeed, but we're still responsible for acting without thinking."  She shook herself and tucked the stockings into the pack.  "That's why I always insist that you do your research and think things through.  There, I think that's everything packed up now."  Mena moved as if to leave, but Twiggy spoke again.

"But that’s not my point.  It’s not just that you’re not culpable, as the Justicars would say.  It’s also that you did your best.  You always tell us to do our best, and that’s exactly what you did under the circumstances.  That means there's no reason for Ehkt to turn his back on you.  And I think Brother Shining would agree with me, or he wouldn't have spoken to you when you needed him."

Mena stared open-mouthed at her student for a moment.  Twiggy seemed to be oscillating between being very pleased with her point and being nervous about her teacher's reaction.  Finally, Mena nodded sharply.  "I'll have to consider that a while."  She paused, then added, "Thank you, Twiggy."  

With another fraction of a smile, Mena left Twiggy with a bed full of packed bags and walked back to her own room, full of tempting, dangerous thoughts of Ehkt and the kinds of fire that leave no scars at all.


----------



## ellinor

*31x03*

The next morning brought a sheaf of messages, nearly all requesting meetings.  Meetings, Twiggy mused, appeared to be one of the consequences of success.  

Lord Ono’s message, “Come at once,” was atop the pile.

In Lord Ono’s office, Twiggy stood on tiptoes to spy the top of the Inquisitor’s head, barely visible behind the stacks of paper that, if anything, had grown since the day before.  “Several of my men did not show up for work today,” he said, shifting one pile under another.  “If I could ever have called them my men.  Best that they’re gone.  Of course that means more paperwork . . .” 

He stopped.  “But that’s not why I summoned you.  It seems you’re famous,” he said, emerging from behind the desk with a scroll of heavy parchment.  He focused on them as he conveyed its message.  “‘Lady Akiko-sama, head of the Inquisition in the Sovereignty, heir to the Lord High Regent, has received word of the Cauldron Inquisition’s achievement in quelling the Tide.  She requests a meeting with the heathen Inquisitors and the Adepts who witnessed their work.’  You should prepare to leave for Divine Mark tomorrow.”

Twiggy’s heart danced in her chest.  This meeting was what they’d been working for!  She allowed herself to bask for a moment in the feeling of having done something _important,_ something that made a difference in people’s lives, something worthy of notice from the head of the Inquisition in the entire Sovereignty.  Twiggy had always believed that what they were doing for Rose was important—personally, politically, and even divinely—but, she allowed herself to muse, meeting the heir to the Lord High Regent was a very long way from tugging at Mama Rossi’s apron in the kitchen of the Estate.  Twiggy looked at Rose and beamed.  The most important thing wasn’t what they’d accomplished so far, she knew.  It was that this brought them closer to understanding the prophecy . . . 

Acorn coughed as a cloud of dust rose from a shifting pile of papers.  I bet Lady Akiko-sama has a clean office, he interjected.

_Shush,_ Twiggy thought.  _Lord Ono is talking._

“As you know,” Lord Ono continued, rummaging through more papers, “There is no teleport circle in Divine Mark.  The teleport network will take you as far as Overlook.  We will arrange your lodgings there for tomorrow night.  From there it is a few days’ travel over the plateau to Divine Mark.”

Well if we’re leaving tomorrow, Acorn thought, I’m having a bath tonight.

###

The rest of the morning was a whirlwind of meetings and preparations.  Mena met with Sister Sweet Scent, who expressed her gratitude to the entire party and wished them good fortune.  She gave Mena a pair of beautiful dice, carved from Ketkath ivory.  “Thank you,” Mena had replied.  “I think Sedellus’s change has worked for the better in me.”  And she meant it, although it felt strange to say.

Mena also joined Nyoko in meeting with Brother Ono, who was, gradually, becoming more comfortable with the Priesthood’s need for his personal variety of unmoving rock. 

Over lunch at the Inn, everyone else reported on their meetings.  Kormick met with the head of the Eighths, although he didn’t say why.  Tavi met again with Lord Ono, who praised his leadership and gave him a sturdy cloak bearing the Inquisitors’ symbol.  Nyoko spent hours cloistered with Lord Masa, giving him her Witness of the months’ events.  Twiggy met with the Head of Military, who gave Twiggy a pair of golden bracelets and extended a permanent invitation to play Go.  Everyone had done some shopping, to provision themselves for the trip.  

“And the visit to Mother Satsuki?” Mena inquired. “How did that go?”  Savina, Kormick, and Arden had spent much of the day with her, helping her settle into her new office in the main Temple.  They reported that Brother Trickling Fountain had been found, soggy, washed up on the shore of the Lake.  Mena was relieved that he was alive—and that he didn’t seem to want to return to his position on the Synod.  

“Mother Satsuki gave me a bottle of ointment,” Savina reported, “and Kormick offered her his help with anything she might need in the future.”

“Yes,” Kormick chortled, “Why did I do that?”  

“Alirria moves through you,” Savina said.

“Yes, yes, she moves through us all,” Kormick responded.  Kormick seemed determined not to recognize how . . . downright Alirrian he seemed, sometimes.

“I’m going to the library to do one last bit of research about the prophecy,” Twiggy reported as she finished her tea.  “I have some more shopping to do,” said Savina, standing, and one by one, the room cleared.

“I should shop too,” Mena observed to Kormick, when the others had left.  “I need to get a dagger, or something.”  Her mind flashed to the helplessness she felt in the battle with the Mother Superior, as her legs wouldn’t move and the fighting was too far away for her to help.  “I’m fine with a sword, but I need to be able to fight at a distance.”

“Dame Philomena, you are much more than fine with a sword,” Kormick grinned.  “You are terrifying.” He stood up.  “But come here.  I have an idea.”  He unclasped a hand-crossbow from its place on his hip and held it out to her.  “Let us go to the courtyard and try with this.”

###

At the Adept library, Twiggy headed straight for the corner that housed the history of the Sheh people.  She had read nearly everything she could find about them, but there were just a few scrolls she hadn’t gotten to . . .

Plus, she wanted to say goodbye to the librarian, who had helped her so much during their time in Cauldron—not only with the prophecy, but with everything:  making her comfortable, teaching her Go…  

But when she arrived, he didn’t greet her.  He remained on the other side of the library, his nose in a dry-looking book about the dietary habits of the Ketkath electromagnetic marmot.  “Tomako-san?” she asked, quietly, thinking perhaps he hadn’t noticed her. 

“Twiggy-san,” he replied, shifting uncomfortably on his cushion, “perhaps you can help yourself today?”

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s only . . .” he shifted again, “As much as I might wish to, I cannot assist you.”

“Why?”

“You know I am a member of the Ungato family?”  Tomako asked

Twiggy had not known.  She hadn’t thought to ask, she realized.  “No, I’m sorry,” she replied.  “But why would that matter?”

Tomako looked surprised at the question.  “On account of the blood-feud,” he said.

“Blood-feud?  *What* blood-feud?”  Twiggy had only the vaguest conception of what one was, much less why it was relevant here.

“Why, the blood-feud between Lady Ungato Tashita and Lady Roseanna di Raprezzi.”


----------



## ellinor

*31x04*

“Kormick? Arden?  Can I talk to you?”  Rose gestured Kormick to the corner of the Inn’s common room.  

Arden was already nursing a cup of tea at the common room’s corner table.  Savina still insisted on bringing a tent when they traveled, and Arden had just finished packing a heavy array of Sovereign textiles.  She was steeling herself for the return to pack-carrying.

Kormick and Rose settled at the small table beside Arden.  “I . . . don’t know quite how to ask this,” Rose began, “but I’m hoping you two can speak to someone on my behalf.”

“You want me and the murder-slave for talking? Not for kneecapping?” Kormick asked.

“This is serious.”  Rose insisted.  Arden could see concern in her eyes, and fear.  “I’m in a situation,” she continued, “and I think you can help.  You see, I had . . . an evening with a gentleman, Uroki Takumi, and it turns out that he was betrothed to someone else, and now that girl—Ungato Tashita—has challenged me to a duel, a duel to the death, and I don’t know what to do, you know I can’t kill anyone, and dying . . .” she held out the letter bearing the challenge.  “It arrived this morning.”  

Arden stared down at the parchment without taking it.  “Oh, Rose—” she started to say, caught herself, and changed it to “Signora…” She trailed off in dismay, speechless.

“When, exactly, did this take place?”  Kormick asked.

“When you were at the Indulgence Party.”

“You had sex at a puppet show?”  Kormick asked.

“Savina lied about the puppet show.  We stayed here at the inn.  Taku came here.  We had supper, and—he didn’t tell me he was betrothed.  Really, he didn’t. And Savina said . . .”

_Never underestimate Savina di Infusino,_ Arden thought, for the hundredth time.  “Signora,” she asked, “why do you think we can help?”

“The other girl’s family is in the Eighths. The Ungato family.  You’ve been dealing with the Eighths.  Maybe you can get them to call it off?”  The idea was so naive it was almost funny.  

Kormick was muttering to himself.  “Go take the rich girl on a trip, Kormick.  You’ll be back before summer.  Oh, no, nothing can go wrong.  No chance that she’ll have a one night stand that could anger an entire city’s network of organized crime.  Noooo.”

“I was just having some fun,” Rose said.  “You have fun, I thought I could have some fun.  And I really liked him.  The only men I ever see are my brother and you.  And he really liked me.  I know it.”

“You, little miss ‘I went to a puppet show, and now I have a blood-duel,’ you don’t get to defend yourself.  There’s no universal right to fun.”  Kormick shook his head.  “Young love.”  He grumbled again, and then stood up.  “You—” he pointed at Rose— “stay put.  Arden, you and I will go to the den of crime, now, and do what we can do.”  

Even coming from Kormick, it sounded naive.

### 

“Stew?  Stew.  Two stews,” Kormick announced, as they sat down at their usual table at the Inn of Generous Portions.  “Arden, you know what to do.  Lurk and wait to stab.”  Arden sighed into her stew.  It was, she had to admit, tasty stew.

Soon, Daisuki joined them, flanked as usual by two muscled men.  

“We are hoping to talk with you about a misunderstanding,” Kormick began.  

In response, one of the muscled men sat down.  Daisuki raised his eyebrow, but let his henchman talk:  “I am Ungato Kunami.  I think you’re here for me.”

“Your daughter is betrothed to Uroki Takumi?”

“Since birth,” the man responded.

“And your daughter has challenged our friend, Roseanna di Raprezzi, to a duel?”

The man nodded. 

“You should know,” Kormick said, “that the young man deceived Roseanna.  She did not know he was engaged.  With this in mind, we hope it may be possible to satisfy your daughter’s honor through conversation and reparation, rather than violence?”

Ungato Kunami sighed.  “It wasn’t my idea for my daughter to cause a stir with the heroes of the moment.” He gestured to the Inquisitor’s robe that Kormick had left folded on the table.  “She’s picked up some bad habits from the Ehktians.  But she’s set her teeth on this one.  I already told her to call it off, and she wouldn’t listen.  Says it’s an Ehktian rite and it can’t be called off.”

_Ehktians,_ Arden sighed inwardly.  _Spoiled rich kids._ 

###

Arden and Kormick returned to the common room of the Inn of Comfortable Repose to find it anything but comfortable.  Tavi was pacing back and forth with his hands on his hips.  Savina was standing behind Rose, with her hands on Rose’s shoulders.  Nyoko was sitting off to the side, focusing very intently on a cup of tea.  Twiggy was hiding behind a potted plant.  

Mena was as angry as Arden had ever seen her.  “By the grace of the Gods, you’ll make it to older.  But you are so very young.  You don’t even understand what you did wrong?”

“He seemed very nice,” Savina said.  “I was there.  We had tea first . . .”

“Signora di Infusino,” Mena hissed, “You.  Will.  Be.  Quiet.”  

Savina pouted and stared at Mena before continuing.  “Tavi, you met him too . . .”

“I didn’t sleep with him,” Tavi growled.  “Savina, you—”

Savina stamped her foot.  “Just because you’re obsessed,” she turned to Tavi, “and you’re paranoid,” she turned to Mena, “doesn’t mean—”

Rose threw a cup at the wall.  It shattered.  Everyone froze.

“I consulted an Alirrian priestess in a matter of love.  There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You really don’t understand,” Mena took a slow, controlled breath.  “It’s not that you consulted an Alirrian priestess.  It’s not that you met a boy.  It’s not even that you had a relationship with him.  It’s that you didn’t do your research.”  Her voice hardened.  “This could all have been prevented with some *simple research.*”  She took another slow, controlled, terrifying breath.

“Mena?”  Kormick interjected from the doorway.  Everyone in the room spun to stare at him.  “You seem angry.”

“Thank the Gods we have a guide to interpret these things,” Mena spat back at him.

“We talked with the girl’s father,” Kormick continued.  “She’s an Ehktian.  Thinks this is an Ehktian ritual of some sort.”

“Perhaps it’s a Tide plot to convince the girl to pervert the faith of Ehkt?”  Twiggy stood up from behind the plant.

“No,” Mena replied, “The blood-duel is a real Ehktian rite.  A very old one, and not commonly used anymore, but it’s real.”  

Mena paused for a long time.  “I have an idea.”


----------



## Rughat

ellinor said:


> _Ehktians,_ Arden sighed inwardly.  _Spoiled rich kids._




I love this.  I can see where Arden is coming from.  "Challenges just for the sake of being challenged?  The rest of us get challenged by life if we like it or not.  Only folks who need to seek out 'challenges' are folks who have it so easy they don't know what being challenged is all about."


----------



## Jenber

Rughat said:


> I love this.  I can see where Arden is coming from.  "Challenges just for the sake of being challenged?  The rest of us get challenged by life if we like it or not.  Only folks who need to seek out 'challenges' are folks who have it so easy they don't know what being challenged is all about."




Mena will point out that not everyone who is confronted by life's challenges makes any effort to meet or overcome them.  She will also point out that there is nothing inherently lazy or inferior about choosing to push yourself to do better than you did yesterday.

She will further point out that it's just as easy to make out sects of other religions to be nothing but spoiled rich kids: people who devote themselves to nothing but love? or the perfection of dance? or memorizing all the laws to the last word but not acting to change them?  Gracious, what useful purpose is any of that?

All of which is to say that Mena doesn't think it does much good to judge others based on one's own lack of understanding of the value of their pursuits.  Tends to lead horrible things.  Like politics.

Her player wishes to add that sometimes people pursue challenges because they've been hit with so many difficult things that they need to make sure they can still overcome things.  Sometimes the people who need to prove they can do it are the ones already surviving more than their fair share of "real" challenges.  Mena and I clearly agree that a little less judgement is probably in order.


----------



## Ilex

Rughat -- You've nailed Arden's feelings just about precisely.  Because of her background, the Questors, in particular, often make little sense to her at a gut level (not that this girl was necessarily a Questor).  I believe there was a day in Pol Aego when she was all over bruises and sunburn and blisters and she watched a pair of Questors galloping down the road and just thought... what a luxury they have.  

Jenber -- Arden and Mena's friendship has gone far to open Arden's mind to Ehktian philosophy over the course of the campaign, and she wholeheartedly supports Mena's own take on the Ehtkian worldview.  

For myself out-of-character, I've loved stories of knights-errant since I was 8 (?), so I'm more tolerant of questin'....


----------



## Rughat

Jenber - Oh, I understand Mena's point of view too!  I've done things just to see if I could, and set myself to challenges to improve myself.  Oh, and I've got a 6 year old who seems to be a born Questor.  It seems like every new object is a challenge saying "how high can you climb on this?"

What I loved about Arden's statement was how I had not seen that part of Arden's personality before, but with just that one phrase I suddenly understood a lot more about her.

I wasn't judging the philosophy in the story - I was commending the craft of those telling it!


----------



## coyote6

Say, is it time for a bump? Then let this be a complimentary bump.

Fajitas, besides the awesome game, great job on Leverage this year. Frame-Up & K-Street were terrific.

Sent from my MB860 using Tapatalk 2


----------



## Fajitas

coyote6 said:


> Fajitas, besides the awesome game, great job on Leverage this year. Frame-Up & K-Street were terrific.



Thanks, Coyote!  So glad you've enjoyed.


----------



## ellinor

*31x05*

Thanks for the bump!  It's always so encouraging to know that people are looking forward to updates.  And sorry for the delay in posting -- real life commitments have intruded  on our fun writing time.  But have no fear:  there's lots more in the pipeline!


*31x05*

“Not that business again,” Brother Burnout said, as Mena stood in his office at the Temple of the Keepers.  “Tashita-san is one of our most active members.  She showed me the book explaining the blood-duel.  I advised against it, but it was in the book.  I couldn’t forbid it.”  He ushered her in through the anteroom of the Temple of the Keepers of Light into his office.

Mena was still angry—angry at Savina for putting Rose in danger, and even angrier at Rose for making such a preventable mistake—but although she wished _someone_ had given her some advanced warning about Ungato Tashita’s plan to challenge Rose, she wasn’t angry at Brother Burnout,  and in any case, she knew anger wouldn’t help her here.  She scanned the shelves of Brother Burnout’s office and, to her relief, found the text of Ehktian sagas she was looking for.  “May I?” she asked.

Brother Burnout nodded.  

“There are many tales of Ehktian blood-duels in history, and great variation in how they are carried out.” Mena flipped through the book until she found the saga she had in mind.  She’d thought it was funny when she was a child; she’d never thought it would be useful.  Now, it might be the one story in Ehktian history that could prevent this disaster.  “Take this one, for example,” she continued. “The blood-duel of Brother Ember and Brother Bright.  



> …and thus accused, they wrestled mightily, until Brother Ember was covered in the mud and Brother Bright was clean, and Brother Bright bade him bray like a donkey, and he did, and the crowd let up a cheer to see Brother Ember so humiliated.  And thereafter it was known that Brother Ember was defeated, and forevermore he drank ale not from a mug, but from a bowl.




You see,” Mena continued, “some blood-duels result in actual blood, but they don’t have to.  This one didn’t.”   

Brother Burnout considered for a moment, and then asked Mena to wait.  He returned in a few minutes with a spiky-haired girl of about 13.  She had recently dyed her hair red and pierced her eyebrow, but Mena recognized her instantly as the girl who’d been so eager to hear her stories when she first came to the temple, months ago.  _ She’s just a kid!_ Mena thought, and settled in to teach a history lesson.

It wasn’t easy.  The girl was as excitable as promised, and wouldn’t pay attention for more than a few minutes at a time.  But by the end, she agreed to a bout with practice weapons, designed to humiliate rather than injure.  “But Taku will be there to watch when I kick her butt,” the girl insisted.  “I’ll knock her down and make her look funny.”  

Mena thought that was just fine.

###

Tavi was worried as they approached the Ungato home.  _My whole life,_ he thought, _and it all comes down to this._  “I’ll be right there, ready to switch places with you if you’re hurt,” he said.  “You won’t have to draw blood.” 

Rose seemed a good deal more comfortable than he did.  “I know.”

“Look.  She’s going to hit Rose with a stick, Rose will fall down, and we’ll be on our way to Divine Mark,” Kormick told Tavi.  It wasn’t terribly comforting. True, they’d done their research this time. They could find no connection between Ungato Tashita and the Questors’ previous attempt to capture Rose.  They knew that _something_ was out to get Rose—they’d faced too many swarming attacks on the road to Cauldron to think otherwise—but they weren’t on the road now, and whatever shady forces drove those attacks, there was no discernible tie between them and Ungato Tashita.  So this probably wasn’t an assassination attempt, and Kormick was probably right. 

But that didn’t mean Tavi wasn’t concerned.  _My whole life,_ he thought again, and the refrain kept racing through his head. _*Our* whole lives come down to this._

A servant let them into the estate and to a courtyard behind the house where the girl’s father waited with his arms crossed.  Uroki Takumi stood beside him, shoulders slumped, not making eye contact with anyone.  

There was a pit in the middle of the courtyard, filled with vegetable and animal waste.  It smelled horrible.  Two narrow posts stood in the middle of the pit, with planks leading to them.

Ungato Tashita—dressed in bright red, her spiky hair glinting in the sunlight—strode from the house carrying two wooden swords and a large stone.  She handed the stone to Nyoko and held out one of the swords to Rose.  “We’ll stand on the posts.  The Adept will drop the stone.  When the stone lands, we’ll fight.  Whoever falls, loses.  Right?”  She looked at Mena, who nodded.  

Tavi prepared himself. _Our whole lives…_

The girls walked across their respective planks to the posts.  Servants removed the planks, leaving just the posts.  Tavi held his breath.

Nyoko dropped the stone.

Ungato Tashita swung her wooden sword like a bat. 

Rose waved her hand.  The post holding Ungato Tashita disappeared and instantly reappeared three feet away.  

The girl fell, with a squelching noise, into the muck below.

Rose _fey-stepped_ the few feet from the post to solid ground.  “Can we go now?” she asked.

Everyone else exhaled.

###

As the others were preparing to leave, Twiggy stopped by the Adept library to say goodbye to Tomako-san.  When she arrived, he had a stack of books and scrolls ready for her to read.  “I think I found some things that might help with your prophecy,” he said, visibly relieved that he could talk to her again.  “About that Sheh madwoman.”

Indeed, he had gathered some interesting information.  Twiggy wasn’t sure how it fit together, but she finally, after spending so much time reading old Sovereign texts, was starting to feel like she was getting closer to the larger picture.  

The first was a basic matter of translation:  In the language of the Old Ones, the word “Sheh” meant “wall.”  That tended to support Kormick’s idea that the Sheh had something to do with the “guarding tower” in the prophecy.  _Find the last stone of the ruined wall,_ Twiggy thought.  The records showed that the Sheh were eradicated—but maybe they really weren’t.  Maybe they had to find the last of the Sheh.

The second piece of information was both more worrisome and less helpful.  At the time that the Sheh madwoman was executed, there was apparently a rash of murders of infant girls.  The records indicated that there were multiple killings by multiple killers, and that they seemed to spread East toward the coast from somewhere deep in the western Ketkath.  The Sheh were from the western Ketkath, Twiggy knew.  It meant that the Sheh madwoman wasn’t the only one killing infant girls.  But beyond that, it was hard to know what it meant.

###

Not long after dawn, the group gathered up their bags and bundles and headed to Cauldron’s teleport house. Unsuku was waiting for them there.  

“Ready to meet Lady Akiko, heir to the Lord High Regent?”  Kormick asked as the telemancer prepared the circle for their travel to Overlook.  

“We have a good bit of walking from Overlook to Divine Mark, first,” Unsuku reminded him.

“But I’m still looking forward to it,” Twiggy replied.  She grasped Rose’s hand and squeezed as they stepped into the teleport circle.  

The teleport activated.  The world went white, and instantly, the sulphurous smell of Cauldron was gone.  A telemancer said “Welcome to Overlook.”

Twiggy’s hand was empty.  

Rose was gone.


----------



## Jhereth Jax

What happens next? Eeek! I love this Story Hour!


----------



## Rughat

Nice... get them good and reliant on the teleport circles, then use them to kidnap someone.  Oh, and doesn't the  di Raprezzi family work with the teleport circles?


----------



## ellinor

*32x01*

Tavi opened his mouth to taste the freshness of the Overlook air.  He opened his eyes and turned to share the moment with Rose.  “It’s so—” his throat closed.  _Where? Rose? Where?_  The words circled each other in his mind.

A telemancer had been talking.  “…are you new to Overlook?”

“You.” Tavi nailed the man with a glare.  “What have you done?  What is your name?  What is your title?”

The telemancer backed up hastily.  “G--Goodman Rafael Miele, at your service.”  He bowed in the Sovereign style, although his name and clothing were Hennan.  “Chief Telemancer of the City of Overlook for the di Raprezzi teleport network.  And I’m afraid I don’t know what you—”

“You’re incompetent, or lying,” Tavi pressed.  “Surely you can count.  There were nine of us in Cauldron.  Now there are eight.  You left my sister behind.”  Tavi took a step forward.  “My sister, Roseanna *di Raprezzi*.  I am Octavian di Raprezzi, and this—” he gestured toward the open space beside him— “is unacceptable.”

The telemancer’s eyes widened as he realized he had, in effect, lost the boss’s daughter.  “But Signor,” his voice wavered, “that cannot be.  I don’t know how…one moment…”  He arranged some spell components on the workbench behind him, closed his eyes, and muttered an incantation.  In a few seconds, he looked up.  “The telemancer at Cauldron says she left from there, and everything was normal.  There was no sign of tampering.  The circle here is normal.  It is not possible to teleport some things in the circle but not others.  This has never happened before.  I—I don’t know what—”

“Then find out,” Tavi barked.  He was as angry at himself as he was at the telemancer.  _Our whole lives…_ he recalled his worry from the duel, so trivial in retrospect.  _My one job is to protect her.  And I don’t even know where she is._

“I will.  Right now.  I will find out.”  Miele turned back to his workbench and arranged more spell components for what Tavi recognized as diagnostic cantrips.  His face looked like Twiggy’s did when she was following the paths of magic with her mind.  He stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. Tavi had to remind himself to breathe.  

Suddenly the telemancer opened his eyes.  “This shouldn’t be possible.”

“What?  What is it?”  Twiggy asked, even before Tavi could.  

“She was pushed from the teleport,” the telemancer said, as if it was a phrase that made sense.  

“Pushed?”  Kormick asked.

“That’s the only way I can describe it,” the telemancer replied.  “She went into the teleport, but something knocked her off course before she reached Overlook,” he said.  “I can see the residual energy.  But I cannot see how it was done, or by whom.”

“Someone ‘pushed’ at the precise moment she was mid-teleport?  Wouldn’t that take incredible luck?”  Mena asked.

“Or incredible skill,” the telemancer replied.

“But she is alive,” Savina said, “isn’t she?”

“You sell scrolls of _sending,_ don’t you? Twiggy said, pointing at a wall of scrolls in the teleport center’s front room.  She held out a pouch.  Tavi knew the price of a _sending_ scroll; 360 Gold was enough to exhaust Twiggy’s purse.  Tavi was sure he could convince Miele to give them the scrolls, but he knew the telemancer would have to account to the di Raprezzi household for every scroll.  If a scroll went missing, the telemancer would have to explain why, and then their mother would know they were in Overlook.  _Unless our mother is to blame for this whole mess in the first place,_ Tavi steamed.  But if she didn’t know, paying was best.  And  paying—and protecting Rose—was Tavi’s job.  Tavi thrust his purse in front of Twiggy’s.

“By all means, Signor,” the telemancer replied, and put Tavi’s gold in a lockbox in the front room.  He returned with a scroll.  

Twiggy’s hand shook as she took it.  “Here’s what I’m going to say,” she said, as she unrolled the scroll.  “‘We are safe in Overlook.  What happened? Where are you? Are you ok? Are you in immediate danger?  Be careful, love Twiggy et al.’ That’s twenty-four words.  We could use one more if we needed, but—”  

“That’s enough questions for four _sendings,_” Tavi replied.  

Twiggy held the scroll, closed her eyes, and concentrated.  The scroll’s words faded into the paper as its expended its magic.  

Twiggy furrowed her brow, gave a ragged breath, and opened her eyes.  “Nothing,” she said.  “She may be too far away… but I was really nervous.  Maybe if I tried again…”

The telemancer nodded.  “You’re welcome to try a second scroll, but—”

Tavi couldn’t think of anything he cared about less than money right then.  His sister was missing, for the gods’ sakes.  He poured his purse out on the workbench.  “Whatever you need.”

The telemancer handed another scroll to Twiggy.  Tavi took Twiggy’s hand.  It was sweaty.  He put his hand on her shoulder.  Mena was at her other shoulder.  Tavi could feel her breathing settle as she concentrated again.  The words faded into the paper again.  

Suddenly, Twiggy grabbed a quill from the table, and started scribbling on the scroll.  “Am okay,” she wrote.  “No immediate danger, I think.  In forest, probably Ketkath.  Very freaked out.  Trying to build beacon.  Have telemancer look for signal.  Love, Rose.”

Tavi exhaled.  “Goodman Miele?” 

The telemancer was already arranging things on his workbench.  “I don’t know what she expects me to see.  I looked a moment ago—hey!” he interrupted himself.  “I can sense it.  Something like a teleport circle, but not a teleport circle.  In the mountains, over a hundred miles from here.  To the East, and I believe, the south.  Fifty to a hundred miles off the Follow Road.  I can’t be more precise.  It’s very crude.  No offense meant, Signor.  It is impressive.  But crude.”

“None taken,” Tavi replied.  “So tell us, how do we retrieve her?”

“The difficulty is getting to where she is.  I can sell you a scroll of _linked portal_ that will get you back here from there.  But there is no teleport circle where she is.  We will need a more…improvised ritual.  She has managed to create a beacon.  If we can use that to get a fix on her location, it may be possible to send you to where she has placed the beacon.  It will,” he sighed, “take time to improvise the ritual, I’m afraid.”

“How long?” Mena asked.  “Someone pushed her out of the teleport.  They could use that beacon to find her.  Or maybe they already know where she is.”

“Hours.  Several.  Many.  I will need to do research.  Fewer hours if you help me,” he said.  He was sweating.  He began pulling books from a shelf over his workbench.  Twiggy began to flip through one.  Tavi picked up another book and started to skim.

“Aha!”  Miele exclaimed, about an hour later.  “Come here.  Look.”  He was staring into a pool of water in a metal bowl.  Tavi looked over his shoulder.  Savina looked over the other shoulder.  Nyoko poked her head behind Savina’s.  In the water’s reflection, Tavi could see a forested area.  A pile of sticks and feathers and crystals sat in the middle of it.  _The beacon,_ Tavi realized.  Behind the beacon, there was a hill of scree, leading up to a mountain face.

“Schist!” exclaimed Nyoko.

“What?”  Tavi turned to face her.

“Schist!  Garnetiferous schist!  With a lamellar band of hornblende!”  

“Are you speaking Common?” Tavi asked.

“Those are kinds of rocks, Signor,” Arden said, from behind him.

“Yes, kinds of rocks that are only found together in a few parts of the Ketkath,” Nyoko replied, “and only one is east of here.”  Everyone stared at her. “All Adepts learn Geology,” she explained, “when we’re young.”  Unsuku nodded.  Nyoko and Unsuku pointed the telemancer to an area on a map of the Ketkath.  Rose was surely within a half-day’s walk of there, they assured Tavi.

Savina was still staring at the scrying pool.  “There’s something odd here,” she said.  “As I follow the scry, I can sense what pushed Rose.  It’s not regular teleport magic.  There’s something divine about it.  Something Alirrian.  But it’s not quite a prayer, either.”

“Teleportation is arcane,” Mena said, “but travel is Alirrian.  And it’s possible to blend arcane and divine magic, although it’s rare.  Some mixture of arcane and Alirrian magic would be the best means of doing something like this.”  

“And it’s so precise,” Tavi remarked.  “It reminds me of the animal swarms that attacked Rose.  Somehow, someone knew when we were on a travel route, and where we were, down to the minute.  Someone is watching us when we travel, and attacking us when we do.  Mena’s right, that sounds like an Alirrian with arcane ability.”

“But why would an Alirrian want to push Rose from a teleport?”  Savina asked the question, but Tavi knew everyone was thinking it.

No one had an answer.  The room fell silent, everyone lost in thought.  The telemancer returned to work.  Everyone helped in their own ways.  Tavi, Twiggy, and Mena researched.  Savina brought tea.  Nyoko shared the stronger stimulant she made a habit of chewing.  Arden retrieved spell components from the teleport center’s storeroom.  Kormick told stories of stakeouts in Dar Und.

The sun began to set.  “Aha!”  The telemancer exclaimed again.  “We have it!”  Twiggy was placing a crystal in a circle of spell components on the other side of the room.  “Remarkable!  An improvised ritual in only twelve hours!”  Tavi didn’t think that the word _only_ was appropriate.  But he was relieved, and gladly handed over an additional 360 Gold for the privilege of _sending_ to Rose that they were on their way.  

Five seconds later, Twiggy scribbled Rose’s response.  “Have had to move.  Am hiding in a cave.  Woods not safe.  Have left you a trail.”

Everyone but Unsuku—who grimly pointed out that someone needed to stay behind to bear their Witness if they never returned—crowded into the small improvised circle.  

The world went white, then dark.  Tavi peered upward.  A faint sliver of moonlight flickered through twilight tree cover.  Leaves crunched under his feet.

Tavi peered into the darkness and reached out to his left and right.  Nothing.  “Hello?” No response. 

Tavi was alone.


----------



## Falkus

Another update from my favorite story hour  I'm loving it, keep up the good work!


----------



## Kuritaki

Bump? Is everyone hibernating? Tavi must be feeling very lonely!


----------



## Seonaid

Oh no! Where is everyone?!? Eeee!

Also, I love this Story Hour and I love the writers and I love the players and I love the GM.


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## babomb

Just for a minute, let's all do the bump!


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## Neurotic

Poor Tavi, all alone for so long, lonely face crying for succor in all-encompassing darkness...

In other words:
BUMP


----------



## ellinor

*32x02*

Hello all!!
First, thanks for the bumps.  And second, apologies for the massively long break between posts.  Professional obligations intervened for both Ilex and me, but now we've had a chance to do some story hour writing, and are ready to get back on the regular-posting train.  There's a lot more wonderful story to tell! 

I feel that considering the 9-month hiatus, we need a "Previously On" segment to get rolling.  So here's the synopsis:

The party has traveled from their Pol Henna home base to the Kettenite-governed Sovereignty.  In the Sovereignty, they generated unprecedented political change in the city of Cauldron in what the Cauldron natives may forever call "The Summer of the Heathen" (and what the players will forever call "The Skill Cascade").  This required going "the long way 'round the circle" of Cauldron's political Rings.  The most significant result of this massive political undertaking was that the party uncovered and defeated a nefarious conspiracy orchestrated by the Restless Tide of the One True Path and restored a future of religious freedom for the city of Cauldron.  In so doing, the party also caught the attention of Lady Akiko, heir to the Lord High Regent of the Sovereignty.  Lady Akiko requested a meeting with the party...which brought the party one step closer to the possibility of meeting the ailing Lord High Regent...which in turn the party believed might bring them closer to deciphering the prophecy's language about "the last words of the Dying King"...and just that much closer to deciphering Rose's destiny.  

To meet Lady Akiko in the Sovereignty's capital city of Divine Mark, the party began by teleporting to the nearby city of Overlook.  But when they arrived, Rose was missing.  With the help of the Overlook Telemancer, Goodman Miele, they identified what they believed was Rose's location.  But when they landed there. . .

*32x02*

Twiggy jerked her head left, then right. Looked behind her.  Where was everybody?  

What if she’d been pushed from the teleport this time?  Or what if everyone else had been?  Or what if they were all stuck somewhere in the teleport plane?  

She looked down, and saw a pile of stones and feathers, in a crudely drawn circle in the forest.  She’d landed in the middle of Rose’s beacon.  It looked exactly as it had in the scrying pool—but then it had been daytime.  Now it was night, or almost so.  And the tree cover made everything dark.  And her friends were gone.  _Twilight,_ Twiggy thought, _Sedellus’s hour._

But this wasn’t Sedellus’s fault.  It was hers.  It had been her job to get them all to Rose, and now they were gone.  Twiggy felt the pressure of tears welling behind her eyes.  _Time to bring Rose back,_ she thought, pulling herself together.  She cast _light_ on her orb, and saw a few stones arranged in an arrow a few feet away.  She followed it.

“Hello?”  It was Tavi’s voice, faint but real, ahead and to the left.

“Tavi!”  Twiggy cried out in relief.  But then she tripped over a branch, and by the time she stood up, she was lost again.  

###

Tavi heard Twiggy’s voice, but couldn’t see a thing.  He began to climb one of the trees, to get a better vantage point.  He got about five feet up when a screeching sound rang just beside his ear. Then a slash.  Something had scratched his shoulder.  _Ow!_ he thought, and tried to keep climbing.  _Ow!_ another scratch.  Then another.  Then another loud screech.  

###

The first thing Kormick did when he found himself alone in the forest was to light a fire.  _We must have been scattered by that kludged teleport,_ he thought, _and it’s easier for the others to find me than for me to find them_.  He made a circle of rocks and tindered the dry leaves underfoot.  Sparks rose from the fire, and hit the branches above.  Instantly, Kormick was surrounded by…creatures.  Just feet away, dozens of them.  Some sort of monkeys, he thought, but they seemed to be attached to the trees somehow.  Their fur looked like bark, but their faces looked like lemurs, and their claws were sharp.  He lit a crossbow bolt aflame and fired.  A tree-lemur fell to the ground, dead.  Kormick re-loaded his hand-crossbow and lit another.

###

A flaming bolt from Kormick’s crossbow flew by Tavi’s face and lodged in the next tree, setting the bark ablaze.  Tavi rubbed his eyes.  What _were_ those things?  Another screech, another arrow—this one from Nyoko’s bow.  It lodged in a tree-lemur in the pool of light, only a couple of feet from Tavi’s head.  Tavi could see the creature’s claws, sharp splinters at the end of the creatures’ bark-covered arms.  One appeared—as if from inside the tree trunk,—and slashed him in the face.  Whatever they were, they were dangerous.  Blood poured from below his eye.  He responded with a _fire pulse_.  The creature burst into flame.  Tavi let go of his branch and landed on the leaves below.

Arden saw a fire in the distance.  She crept toward it, silently.  As she approached, she saw Kormick by the fire-light, surrounded by attacking lemurs.  She threw her dagger at one of them.  It screeched and hissed as the dagger knocked a chunk of bark from its back.  The magic dagger returned to her hand—but now the tree-lemurs knew where she was.  Within seconds, she was dodging slashes.

Nyoko heard Tavi’s voice in the distance.  “Nyoko!  You got one!”  A flash of Tavi’s green flame illuminated Tavi’s face for a moment, a small pool of light nearly 30 yards away.  Then, with a screech, a lemur popped out of the tree beside Nyoko and slashed her in the back. 

“Everyone!  I found the beacon!”  Twiggy yelled, hoping they could hear.  “Look for my—” her voice caught in her throat as two enormous branches came flying toward her.  Tree-lemurs popped out of the branches.  Their claws and teeth dug into her face and neck.  Twiggy grasped at her neck to stem the bleeding.  It barely helped.  Acorn squirmed in her pocket.  “Help!”  she screamed as loud as she could, but it was little more than a gurgle.  

Mena heard Twiggy’s cry.  It was somewhere ahead and to the left—but where?  Mena was standing amid a pile of rocks, with a hill behind her.  She dashed forward.  The rocks slid, and her ankle turned.  She stumbled and slid to the bottom of the scree.  Twiggy’s voice again, pained.  Too quiet.  _Pull it together,_ Mena told herself.  She freed her ankle and clambered ahead, toward Twiggy’s voice.  Above her, the trees rustled.

Kormick spun around.  A tree-lemur was right behind him.  It slashed his chest and gut.  He managed to seize it and throw it away, but blood streamed through his coat and he doubled over in pain.  Another tree-lemur hissed.  _So this is how I go,_ Kormick thought.  _A nature guide killed by animals I didn’t even know existed._ 

A dagger whizzed over his shoulder.  The hissing lemur fell to the ground.  “Arden!”  Kormick peered through the smoky fire-light at her hazy shape, coming toward him.  “My favorite murder-slave!”  A tree-lemur jumped out toward her.  He bashed it with the war-hammer in his left hand.  So glad to see you!”  Kormick coughed in pain.  

_Note:  For those keeping count, the tree-lemurs have just rolled three crits against us in a single round._

Savina could hear everyone, but couldn’t see anyone.  They were far away—too far for her to help them.  But she knew they needed help.  She could hear their voices, unmistakably in pain.  She felt her way past tree trunks, toward the voices.  She followed Tavi’s voice, but when she got to where it had been, he wasn’t there -- there was just a bunch of bark, and a spiked branch sticking up from the ground.  The spike had blood on it.  Savina hoped it wasn’t Tavi’s.  She suspected it was.

Twiggy grasped her throat and felt the hot, wet blood seep through her fingers.  The world swam in her vision, and the trees above rustled.  She heard Mena’s voice: “Twiggy!  Behind you!” and cast _shield_.  It was all she could do. _I know how to work together,_ she thought.  _How do I work apart?_

Back to back, Kormick and Arden fended off the lemurs.  But they were surrounded.  Arden could hear Tavi’s and Nyoko’s voices, only feet away, but it might as well have been miles.  A lemur slashed through their defenses, gashing Kormick’s gut. He doubled over and moaned in pain.  Another swiped at Arden.  Blood streamed from her neck and side.  She could feel her energy ebbing away.   

“Justicar,” she began, surprising herself. But suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought of them dying like this, joined back to back in battle, without him knowing the truth. “If we’re going to die here, there’s something—”

He wheeled around to glare at her, his face pale with blood loss.

“Shut up, Arden. We are not. Dying. Of monkey bites. Stay right there.” With some last reserve of energy, he launched himself up into the tree above them and started climbing.  

Arden heard a series of crossbow twangs, hisses, and yelps.  Moments later, Kormick fell back to the ground, covered in bark and blood. “You won’t believe what’s up there,” he croaked.

“Monkeys?” she ventured, surveying all his fresh scratches and bites.  She hoped he was rolling his eyes at her, but his eyes stayed rolled.  He was unconscious.

Nyoko let loose with an arrow at the lemur nearest her.  It tore away a huge chunk of bark.  Nyoko arched her eyebrow.  Finally, some progress.  

Twiggy couldn’t see anymore, and could barely breathe, but she listened.  She was surrounded by lemurs, rustling above her.  She cast upward, igniting her _flaming sphere_ in the canopy above her head.  She heard crackling and shrieking as a lemur ignited and kept burning.  She smelled smoke.  It was exactly what she had hoped for.  Lemurs scuttled away above her, and—she hoped—everyone else could see the fire.  She sat down to avoid falling.  _You can’t fall off the ground,_ she thought, and strove to remain conscious.  _To keep the ball of fire burning…_

Savina took off running toward the ball of fire in the distance.  After a dozen yards, she found Kormick and Arden.  Arden was kneeling over him, holding bloody fabric to his gut.  Savina dove in, and prayed for Alirria’s grace.  The familiar blue glow coursed through her, and she felt relief as Kormick gasped awake.  

Gradually, the party converged on Twiggy’s fire, fighting off lemurs the whole way.  By the time the group could all see each other, they were all covered in blood and leaves—and Rose was still nowhere to be found—but the rustling in the trees above them was only wind.


----------



## coyote6

It's alive! Alive!

Welcome back.


----------



## spyscribe

> Nyoko heard Tavi’s voice in the distance. “Nyoko! You got one!” A flash of Tavi’s green flame illuminated Tavi’s face for a moment, a small pool of light nearly 30 yards away.




Nyoko's business cards read: professional badass.

Yay update!


----------



## Falkus

Yay! It's back! I missed it so much!


----------



## Ilex

It's so great to be back! Thanks everyone for your patience; the break was needed but the return is sweet. Other than the party turning permanently into irrational tree-lemurs in the very next update due to some contaminated bites -- which does _somewhat_ change the campaign's flavor (whoops spoilers) -- I think we have good stuff coming up. ;-)


----------



## Shieldhaven

I, for one, welcome our were-primate overlords.

Wait. A human cursed with lemur-therianthropy just has two different primate forms. Is that enough change to qualify? I'm so confused!

I can't wait for the next installment, when all of my questions about life, the universe, and everything will be answered.

(Welcome back, y'all.)

--Haven


----------



## ellinor

*33x01*

Thanks for the warm re-welcome!  With no further ado:

*33x01*

Tavi listened carefully to the rustling branches.  Still only wind.  By the rays of the moonlight, he began to explore for signs of where Rose could have gone.  Savina was healing everyone, and Twiggy was reading from her magic map. They were in a small, forested valley, surrounded by mountains, with no structures of any sort in the map’s radius.  

“She’s probably in a cave somewhere,” Tavi said.  He remembered playing hide-and-seek with Rose and Twiggy when they were kids.  Twiggy had ended up in the kitchen’s coal scuttle, and had to be freed by the butler.  Rose had been under her bed the whole time.  “This is my cave,” Rose had said from beneath the bed, as the butler dragged the coal-covered Twiggy toward a bath.  “Come on in.”  

Tavi spotted a bit of torn fabric caught on a branch, and beneath it, a few sticks arranged in the shape of an arrow.  “This way!” he announced.  They followed Rose’s markers, spotting them in the moonlight, until they reached the mouth of a cave.  They inched toward it cautiously. 

Tavi heard flapping and caught a gust of wind.  Something flew toward him from the darkness.  He ducked and shut his eyes…and Whisper landed on the top of his head.

Hey! Move! That’s my spot! thought Phoebe.

Tavi was too relieved to tell Phoebe to be quiet.

###

Kormick brandished his hammer and followed Whisper into the cave.  

Rose sat in the glow of a small fire.  “Glad you could make it.”

“It isn’t pretty out there,” Kormick replied.

“No kidding,” Rose said.  

Tavi reached down to help her up, and she threw her arms around him.  “Really.  I’m glad you made it.” Her voice cracked as the tension of her wait came flowing out in long, ragged sighs.  She hugged Savina, and Twiggy, then Mena, one by one.

“You’re fine, kiddo.  You did well.  Good job with the arrow markers,” Kormick said.

Twiggy arranged the components for the scroll of _linked portal_ that Miele had sent with them.  She began casting.  “Something’s wrong,” she said.  “I can feel something trying to push in.  But it’s faint, as if I’m listening to something from under a blanket.  It’s coming from that direction—” she pointed southwest, toward whatever had pushed Rose from the original teleport. “Whoever it is, they know we’re here.”

The runes glowed brighter.  There was a rustling at the mouth of the cave.  A sharpened stick flew into the cave and shattered at Kormick’s feet.  Then another.  One caught Tavi’s ankle.  A high-pitched chittering came from outside. The lemurs were regrouping.

Tavi shoved Rose into the teleport circle.  She disappeared.  Savina stepped in, and Kormick dove in behind her, dragging Mena, who grabbed Arden.  The world went white.  Then they were all in a heap on the floor of the Teleport Center in Overlook.  Everyone was there.  Miele stood over them.

Kormick looked up from the bottom of the heap.  “Some very strange monkeys may be following us.” 

###

“If we don’t do something, this will just keep happening,” Savina said.  They were all gathered in a private room at the Overlook Teleport Center, deciding their next move.  “We need to be able to teleport safely.”

“They could find us on the main roads and in the teleport,” Kormick pointed out, “but not in the city.  Whoever it was had a limited idea of where to look for us.”  

“But until we get to Divine Mark, we’ll be on the main roads,” Tavi pointed out.  

“Well, we know something about them now,” Twiggy said.  “They have a mix of arcane and divine magic, and they’re…”  Twiggy motioned toward a place on the large map of the Ketkath that hung on the wall “somewhere in this area.  I could feel the energy, and it was coming from the same place Goodman Miele identified before.  Whoever it is, they would have had to set up something pretty elaborate to push Rose out of the teleport like that.”

“We are expected in Divine Mark,” Unsuku said.  “When Lady Akiko-san calls, one does not just wander off into the woods and keep her waiting.”

Nyoko raised an inscrutable eyebrow.   

“I have an idea,” Twiggy said, and called Miele into the room.  “Can you help us scry the location where the teleport meddling originated?”

Together, they built a scrying pool.  In the water, Savina could see some feathers and leaves . . . and an old Alirrian symbol.  That seemed surprisingly promising.  “Maybe this is someone we can just have a conversation with,” she said.  “We can get another scroll of _Linked Portal_ from Goodman Miele.  We can go right there, and come right back.  No wandering at all,” she said, staring at Unsuku.

It was decided.

“We’ll be ready to send you off first thing in the morning,” Miele said, with a deep bow to Tavi.

###

The next morning, they all rose with Savina.  Twiggy packed as Savina prayed, and they arrived at the Teleport Center shortly after dawn.  Miele was ready, waiting.  Twiggy wondered whether he had slept.  

They gathered in the teleport circle.  The world went white.

And then they were in a cave.  A small one, but they were all in it—together.  _Already better than last time,_ Twiggy thought.   They stood on a raised stone platform, surrounded by runes, feathers, and shards of tile, each with different patterns.  The arrangement looked wrong to Twiggy, as if someone had had a teleport circle described to them, but had never seen one before.  To the side was a small pool of water—for scrying, Twiggy presumed.  

“We’re in the side of a mountain,” Kormick announced.  The morning sun began to stream in the cave mouth, illuminating the walls of the cave.  They were covered with glyphs and icons that Twiggy couldn’t understand.

“These are Alirrian,” Savina said.  “They’re for consecrating a space.  But they look old, somehow.  Used.”

“Maybe refugees stayed here to keep away from the Sovereigns,” Tavi suggested.  

Twiggy picked up a shard of tile and cast _object read_ to see its past.  Her vision began with a view of a plaster ceiling—it must have been a floor tile—until a woman came into view.  She had gray-blonde hair peeking from a scarf, and wore the simple Alirrian shift of a Tender.  Her features were unclear.  Twiggy could see the room behind her.  It was a Teleport Center.  _These tiles must be from the floors of different Teleport Centers across the Halmae,  Twiggy realized.  Perhaps a way of knowing when we were teleporting.  Whoever this is, she’s just been waiting for us to teleport._  Then the Tender in her vision leaned forward, threw a powder, and seemed to speak. There was a flash.

Then another vision.  Under a blue sky.  No buildings, but then the face of the Tender.  She concentrated for a moment, and spoke again.

Then the third and last vision.  A flash of light, then the Tender’s face.  Her eyes widened, then she turned away and ducked down.  It was in this cave.  

Twiggy explained the visions.  “Sorry they’re not more help,” Twiggy said.  

“At least we know now that the teleport circle has something to do with a Tender,” Savina said.  “That must be a good sign.”

BEHIND YOU! Acorn suddenly screamed in Twiggy’s head.  Twiggy ducked reflexively. Not down!  It’s a rat!

Savina pointed at the rat.  “Stop,” she _commanded_.  It did.

Nyoko peered at the rat.  “What’s this?” she asked, pointing to its neck.  There was a thin ribbon tied around the rat, holding a small bundle of feathers and moss.

Twiggy identified it as a scrying sensor.  “Someone’s watching us through it.”  She instantly felt unsafe. “Probably that Tender.”

Savina spoke to the rat.  “I don’t know why you’re trying to harm us, but what we’re doing is good. I’d hate to oppose an honest Alirrian without need. We will not harm your creature.  We will wait here until dusk if you wish to meet.”

Really?  We won’t harm it?” Acorn asked.  But it’s a rat!

And so they sat at the mouth of the cave and waited, as the sun passed overhead.


----------



## redcat

> Really? We won’t harm it?” Acorn asked. But it’s a rat!





I have to say, I agree with Acorn on this one...


----------



## Middle Snu

*Curse you, curse you all.*

On Thursday morning, I had a bit of downtime at work. "Ah," I said to myself, "I wonder if Sagiro's updated. What's this? StephenAC archives another story hour?" I was just starting up a new project, and didn't have too much time... but what was the worst that could happen?

16 hours later. It's 6am on Friday morning - I finally tear myself away from the screen, drive home, and spend the next day on 1 hour of sleep. 

Two days later. I lie in bed, defeated. I had, over the last 60 hours, read _all_ of both "Welcome to the Halmae" and "A Rose in the Wind." My mind is spinning with plot points, characters, skill challenges. I feel a strange urge to DM 4th edition to orchestrate a similar "skill cascade," but I know it would be only a shadow of the glorious events described here.

Seriously, this is one of my favorite story hours ever. The worldbuilding is amazing, the characterization fantastic, and the writing is spectacular.

So really, by "curse you all," I mean *"Thanks so much. I'll keep reading."*


----------



## Ilex

I lack the words, emoticons, or animated gifs to adequately express how gleefully happy your comment makes me, Middle Snu.  Thank YOU.


----------



## Ilex

*34x01*

The day dragged past, the wind soughing in the pines outside the cave’s entrance, the party restlessly inventing and discarding plan after plan for negotiating with—or ambushing—their hoped-for visitor. Savina cast the ritual _Banish Vermin_ just inside the mouth of the cave, blocking the entrance and creating a zone within that would be safe from spying rats and other servants of the mysterious woman. Kormick and Arden lurked behind the tumbled boulders around the cave’s mouth, hidden from approaching eyes—just in case.  The rest of the party, Rose at their center, waited in plain sight within the ritual-protected safe zone inside the cave.

And they waited.

Finally, the sun sent long shafts of light through the trees from the western horizon.  Slowly the light faded, and dusk settled over the pines outside.  The wind rushed in the forest like a distant ocean and sent leaves skittering past the cave’s entrance.  A small dark shape swooped past the cave’s entrance, and Savina saw the flash of a dagger in the shadows as Arden nearly threw her blade before realizing that the shape was merely a hunting bat. 

Another bat flitted past the cave entrance, then another, then two together, looping dizzily.  Then there were five. 

Then ten. 

“Not natural,” muttered Kormick, and now it wasn’t just leaves skittering at the cave’s mouth, there was skittering behind them, too, against the back wall of the cave where Savina’s ritual zone didn’t reach. 

Tavi threw a torch against the back wall: it was alive with rats, beetles, and worms, all the cracks in the rock squirming with life.  Arden gasped, Kormick cursed, and both of them dodged back into the safe zone, flicking centipedes and spiders off their arms and legs.

Countless bats now darkened the cave’s mouth.  And it wasn’t just bats: Savina glimpsed crows, robins, and finches swirling around with the bats.

They were surrounded.  Savina consulted her feelings, gave a sharp nod, and spoke loudly, making Rose jump: “This is a rude response to a friendly request for parlay.”

“Typical crime boss, arriving with a show of force,” added Kormick. 

“Let’s leave,” said Savina. “I will not play audience to this display.” 

In answer, the birds and bats pulled back to either side, like a curtain parting on a stage, making a living tunnel in front of the cave’s mouth.  The ground, a mat of beetles, gathered itself together, each shiny body piling onto the next in a mound, then suddenly the beetles were forming themselves into arms, legs, head—and suddenly there were no beetles at all but an older woman dressed in blue and green standing before the cave’s entrance. It was the Alirrian Tender whom Twiggy had seen in her magical investigation of the pot shard.

“Greetings, Sister,” said Savina.  “I’m pleased you accepted our invitation.” 

“My name is Sister Orchid, and I have no interest in further violence,” answered the woman.

Kormick’s snort made no attempt to hide his skepticism, but Savina thought the woman seemed sincere.  Sincere, and sad, and very, very concerned.

“You have attacked us several times. What do you fear from us?” Savina asked her.

“I fear little from _you_,” the woman answered, “but I do fear…” She raised a finger, and pointed at Rose.

“What do you fear from her, then?” Savina asked.

“I know who and what she is.  I know the danger she represents.”

Savina felt Mena, Tavi, and Twiggy draw closer to Rose as Kormick gave an exasperated sigh. 

“Let us speak _plainly_,” he said.  “Why?  Who are you?  Why have you come after our friend?” 

“The Church of Alirria has been watching her for some time,” said Orchid.  “We are confident in our conclusions.  She is dangerous.”

“She’s just a young woman!” Savina burst out.

“I know. But she is also the Sacrifice of Death, and the Church has tasked me with making sure her doom does not come to pass.”

Mena put her hand on Rose’s shoulder. “Again, we ask you to speak _plainly_,” she said.  “Tell us everything you know.  Rose also wants to hear it.”

Rose nodded, her face very pale in the darkness.

Savina watched Orchid’s lips form into a thin, unhappy line.  The woman didn’t want to explain.

“Let’s start with this,” Kormick said. “When I say I work for Kettenek, I sometimes mean something different than… let’s say… Justicars from other places, or other Kettenek-ish orders and whatnot.  What is your particular version of the Church of Alirria?”

He was fishing to find out if she represented a strange splinter group of the church, which made sense to Savina, until the woman’s next words chilled her heart:

“I work for the Council of Mothers,” said Orchid.

The Council of Mothers was the governing body of the entire Alirrian Church on the Peninsula.  Savina’s order answered to them, as did all the other Alirrian sects.  If the Council of Mothers had sent this attacker after Rose….

“Why,” whispered Savina.  Then she raised her voice firmly.  “Why wait until now, and why do you pursue us with violence?  If the Council itself is concerned about Rose, why not talk to her and her family years ago?”

“We have studied, we have debated, we have gone over and over our conclusions.  And then, when you acted, when Rose ran away, we realized that we could risk no further hesitation—so I was sent forth.”

“And your mission?” asked Mena.

“I must kill her,” said Orchid, “to keep her from danger of death by the wrong hand.”


----------



## Ilex

*34x02*

Silence.  With Orchid’s mission stated baldly, none of them seemed quite able to find breath.

“If the girl is killed by the wrong hand, it is the unmaking of all that has been made,” added Orchid.  There was pleading buried beneath the calm resolution in her voice; Savina heard it and knew that the woman longed for them to understand and accept.

Kormick had no interest in acceptance. “What’s your source for this?” he demanded.  “Because _we_ have a prophecy from an _actual Alirrian angel_ that offers a little more hope than what you’re peddling.”

“You have _an_ angel,” Orchid replied.  “We have communed with _many_ since the child’s birth. They’ve revealed that Rose is perfectly safe unless her death is brought about by a being they call the Agent of Destruction.  We cannot identify who the Agent might be, so we have determined that we must kill the child instead.  We cannot risk the alternative.”

“How do we know you’re not the Agent?” Savina asked, beating the rest of them to the obvious question and earning a thumbs-up from Kormick.

It was Orchid’s turn to sigh. “We spent a great deal of time and effort communicating with the divine, making sure that it wasn’t me. It was exhausting—and conclusive.  But that is _all_ we know.  No one but me is safe.”

Twiggy spoke up:  “I’d like to know a lot more about that process.  What exactly did you do?  And how do you know the Agent is anyone in particular?  That you won’t somehow _become_ the Agent simply by being the one to kill Rose?” 

“You must trust that we know,” said Orchid.  “Making this determination was so difficult that it was almost beyond the Council.  It took immense resources and the wisdom of our greatest minds, and no one is sure we could repeat the process.  But the result was certain.  This is our one chance.”

Savina felt sure that Orchid believed what she said—which was more upsetting than the alternative.  A lying Alirrian she could cope with.  An Alirrian bent on this killing, however… plus the terrifying implications behind her reasoning…

“You’re saying,” said Mena, voicing Savina’s next thought out loud, “that this Agent of Destruction could be anyone.  It could be one of us.”

“It’s not one of us,” Kormick said. “We’d have done it already.  We’ve had a ridiculous number of opportunities over the last few months.”

“There have in fact been five hundred and seventy-six such opportunities merely during the events I have Witnessed,” Nyoko piped up.

“We cannot know who it is.  We only know it is _not_ me.  The Council went to great lengths to confirm that--to ensure that there was one person who could safely do what must be done,” said Orchid.

“And what’s this ‘unmaking’ you talked about?” asked Kormick.

“It is, as I said, the unmaking of all that has been made.  An evil great enough that we must commit this lesser evil to prevent it.”

“All right, let’s say we believe you,” said Mena.  Orchid’s sincerity was too hard to keep doubting.  “Maybe you’ve failed to find the Agent, but we haven’t even begun to try.”

“With so much at stake?  We dare not take the risk of letting you try.”

“Now wait just a minute,” said Kormick. “I’m new to all this … divine stuff … but your answer to the problem is too pat.  Sure, you could kill Rose, but do you really think that the _goddess_ Sedellus would let her plans be wrecked that easily?  She is a _goddess_. You can reroute a stream, yes?  But you can’t make it disappear.  You’ve spent sixteen years doing things people in robes do, and this is the best answer you’ve got?  To reroute the stream?  Meanwhile in just a few _months_ we’ve found more leads than you ever did: we’ve got our prophecy, we’ve got this stuff about the Sheh killing baby girls, we’re on this.  We may not be smarter than you, I’m not saying that, but obviously at least we’re luckier.”

Savina felt like cheering, but Orchid merely raised an eyebrow and asked, “And you would trust to Sedellan _luck_?”

“_Alirria_ isn’t the goddess of killing,” Savina shot back.

“You think we don’t know that?  You think _I_ don’t know?” Orchid shouted.  Then she took a deep breath and, when she resumed speaking, her voice was calm once more, with only a slight tremble and that faint, pleading undertone, begging them not to make this harder than it already was.  “The Ehktians don’t care about this problem--the Kettenites endlessly debate it among themselves, but take no actions--and the Sedellans… Pray you don’t encounter those the Sedellans have sent.  They are without mercy, without compassion. They do not care who they hurt.  I seek only one death.”

Finally, for the first time, Tavi spoke.  “We left the safety of our family’s estates to face Rose’s destiny,” he said.  “We are agreed with you that merely waiting is folly.  However, to sacrifice the light that is my sister without recognizing that she is innocent—”

“How many ways can I say it?” Orchid interrupted. “The Council has debated these questions at length. No one is happy with the answer.”

“But they all agreed?” Savina asked.

“Enough did.”

Savina knew enough about politics to imagine the impassioned arguments that Orchid’s simple statement concealed.  “What was the position of the dissenters?” she pressed.

But Orchid would not be drawn out.  “You are not a policy maker, Daughter,” she said.  “We won’t roll dice with the world.”

“The Twilight Lurker won’t be defeated this simply,” said Mena.

“In fact, have you considered that Sedellus may have manipulated the Council?” Kormick snapped his fingers. “Tell you what.  This is very complicated.  How about you go back home, and we’ll go back to the city, and we’ll all think and research and meet again in two weeks to talk it over? …No?”

Orchid’s face said it all.  No.  And still that pleading, deep in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry for you that this evil is your burden,” Savina told her, and she was sorry.

Orchid finally looked directly at Rose.  “My dear, I regret this deeply, tremendously,” she said.  “But for the good of all who live, please, will you surrender yourself?”

As one, the party drew in and became a wall around Rose as Savina’s seedling pity for Orchid was swamped by a flood of anger.  “Don’t you _dare_,” she heard herself saying, in a voice that shook with rage rather than fear.  “Don’t you dare make this polite and cover it in pretty words and justifications.  I trust Rose with my life.  This.  Is.  Evil.  Say that!”

“Step aside,” Orchid said.  “You’re so very young.  The Council has far more experience fighting Sedellus than any of you or the organizations you represent.”

“Wait a second,” said Kormick, and his warhammer was already in his hand.  “I think… this is new for me, but I think, as a member of the Justicars, I’m actually offended by that.”

“I’m _definitely_ offended,” said Mena.  Her armor whispered: _offended…_

“While I’m sure due care was taken, your Council are _not_ Adepts,” added Nyoko.  Her hand lay casually on the shoulder strap of her quiver, but Savina knew how fast that hand could move.

“Nonetheless,” said Orchid, “you have heard their judgment.  Will you surrender, Roseanna di Raprezzi?”

Tavi caught his sister’s eye for one long moment.  She made no sign, merely looked back at him, ghost-pale.  Tavi turned to Orchid, and when he spoke, every word was soft, slow, and considered.  “I assure you, Rose will not be surrendered in this moment.”

_…in *this* moment_, Savina had time to think.  _Someday, will another moment be different?_

“I am sorry,” said Orchid.  _I am sorry,_ said her sad, pleading eyes.

And the ground around them erupted.


----------



## coyote6

Ooh, I hate it when that happens. Has anything good ever come of erupting ground?


----------



## Ilex

*34x03*

Dark green vines blasted out of the ground, turning the cave’s floor into a tangle of undergrowth while twining tendrils curled inward, reaching for the party.  Tavi stepped in front of Rose.  “Don’t leave my side,” he told her—something between a request, an order, and a prayer to whatever gods were listening.

Nyoko shot two grasping vines as they waved within reach of Rose, and they wilted to the floor.

Arden danced between the vines and went straight for Orchid.  Kormick was right behind her, tramping rather than dancing.  Arden got there first: her dagger struck, Orchid’s side flickered into beetles for an eyeblink and then reformed, and Arden slipped back out of range.  Kormick swung a warhammer, and the woman’s body again turned to beetles beneath the blow before becoming human again.  Then plant tendrils wove toward Rose—

Tavi sent magic racing down his arm and into his sword, which burst into flame as he lopped off the plants’ ends; fire raced up the stems and stalks and the plants crumpled into ash. 

But Rose screamed: through the plants came charging three huge white apes, the first grabbing Rose by the arm and hair and flinging her away from Tavi towards the other beasts; she fell hard.

Mena was there instantly, catching the first ape in its thigh with her blade.  The ape pounded its chest with both fists and roared, then spun to lumber back toward Rose.  Tavi and Arden caught it with paired attacks and now it was bleeding in three places.

Beyond it, Rose struggled to her feet, bleeding, only to be grabbed by another plant.  _Get there now_, Tavi told himself, but got only two steps before his own feet were tangled up by green vines.  He cut it away with his flaming sword only to be grabbed again, immediately, by yet another plant.  As he struggled, he heard Savina chanting and blue light burst from her holy symbol.  He felt her healing power wash over him, but their enemies seemed unharmed: in the chaos, her prayers lost focus.

The injured ape burst into flame and Tavi knew Twiggy was at work, though he couldn’t see her past the vines that encircled his body, their tendrils waving tauntingly before his eyes. His sword arm was bound against his body. Somewhere, Rose screamed again—his name.  Tavi yelled back in wordless frustration as he strained against his bonds.

### 

At the cave’s mouth, Kormick found himself alone with Sister Orchid, staring into her eyes as her body reformed after his hammer’s stroke.  She seemed slumped as she stared back at him, and Kormick dared to hope she was hurt. 

Orchid stretched out her hand and placed it with surprising gentleness on his shoulder. Kormick _really_ dared to hope that she might be giving up.

Then his life’s energy was running out of him: he could almost feel his body’s warmth, his ability to think straight, his arm’s strength racing up to his shoulder like water and flowing out of him through her hand.  Orchid stood straighter.

She removed her thieving hand, and Kormick staggered.  The cave was spinning.  The noise of the battle mere feet behind him seemed miles away.  It seemed to him that Orchid leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “Don’t oppose me, Sister,” but that was obviously wrong. He wasn’t her sister.

There were beetles swarming over his body—touches of flaring pain as a few got inside his clothes and bit.  Then Kormick was stumbling backward, then falling, and as he landed within the zone of Savina’s original _Banish Vermin_ ritual, the beetles fell away.

A plant wove toward him.

“_Sister_?!” he said to it, and re-gripped his hammer.  Orchid was crazier that he’d thought.

### 

Tavi struck down the last tendril binding him and dragged himself, at last, to Rose’s side. All three apes were struggling to reach her, but her friends had her mostly surrounded and were fending off the beasts.  Unsuku, to Tavi’s surprise, was holding off one ape entirely by herself, ducking, weaving, dancing around behind the brute and snaking her arm around its neck, graceful as a vine herself.

Savina chanted again and white light seared across a second ape. Scarcely missing a breath, Savina turned her gaze to Rose and her voice grew softer; Rose stood taller as healing energy coursed through her.

Arden slipped around behind the ape that had first thrown Rose—the one that was now bleeding and on fire—and slid her dagger between its ribs. It dropped. Its two comrades, undeterred, fought on.

Tavi busied himself with the one Unsuku wasn’t fighting (_dancing with_, his mind insisted; even her fighting was elegant).  Mena turned her attention to Kormick, who was still battling vines on the other side of the cave and looking gray in the face.

“Jan, pay attention,” Mena snapped at him. “There are beasties with kneecaps over here.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Kormick said.

The ape Tavi was battling took a swing at Mena; her armor hissed at it and it blundered sideways—and met Kormick’s warhammers.  He struck it twice, then crossed the hammers and sent a burst of arcane energy crackling into the ape’s face.  Tavi seized his chance and drove his sword home.  The second ape fell to the floor.

As if that had been a signal, the third ape twisted away from Unsuku and backed away into the darkness outside the cave; in the same instant, the waving vines grew still, lowering to the rocky floor. Silence fell, except for the insistent buzzing and fluttering of the birds, bats, and insects that still swarmed outside the zone of Savina’s ritual.

It wasn’t much of a silence, in other words, but Tavi had bigger concerns. 

“Rose,” he asked. “Are you all right?” Savina was already healing her, but Tavi was more worried about the look in his sister’s eyes.

“Is she gone?” Rose whispered.

No one answered: reflexively, everyone looked to the living, flying, creeping wall outside the cave.  Orchid wasn’t gone.  Not yet.

“Perhaps she’s too weak to attack,” ventured Nyoko.

“She stole energy from me, I think,” said Kormick. “With magic like that, she’s not too weak. Not yet.”

“Then what is she waiting for?” asked Twiggy.

“Don’t ask,” said Mena. “Drink water, take a breath, and prepare yourselves for whatever comes next.”

Tavi managed two gulps before the fluttering, buzzing tone went up a notch and the living curtain parted for a second time.

Orchid reformed herself out of the beetles and surveyed them.

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” she said.  “But you leave me no choice.” She took a deep breath, and Tavi—even through his fear for Rose, his exhaustion, his quick calculations of tactical position—even through everything—Tavi saw the sorrow in her eyes. 

“May the Mother of All forgive me,” she whispered.

She stepped forward, into the ritual circle. Her body flashed into beetles, which sheered off in waves, unable to enter the zone of Savina’s magic.  Left behind was an old, frail woman who raised her head and screamed, “_Mother forgive me_”—the last word shredded by choking as her throat was torn open from within.  A thin, bloody _something_ reached out, reaching upwards.  All over her body, Orchid’s flesh was pierced from within by—_branches_, Tavi realized, watching in shock, _those are branches and thorns, it’s like she swallowed a demon acorn and now it’s growing out of her_— 

The last shreds of Orchid’s body hung like rags and dead leaves from the monstrosity that now towered above the party: a giant tree-monster of pulpy, bloody wood-flesh.  Its body was studded with foot-long spines, random patches of bark like a disease, and strange, misplaced, bulging eyes that seemed barely to see at all.  It was a horror like Tavi had never seen before, a supernatural assassin Orchid had died to bring into being, and it was coming for Rose.


----------



## Ilex

*34x04*

The thorny branches of the thing that had been Orchid slammed into Tavi, Twiggy, and Kormick, throwing them aside into the rocks, creating a gap in the wall of protection around Rose. The ease and speed with which that gap appeared scared Mena to her core—_So fast. Just like that, it happens so fast_—and two more limbs snaked forward, ensnared Rose, and began dragging her forward. 

Mena’s fear flashed into colossal terrifying despair (_It’s over, Rose is gone_) so quickly that it threatened to consume her soul.

Kormick struck out at one of those limbs and missed. Savina cast a zone of _Consecrated Ground_, but Rose was beyond it, and now Rose writhed as a beam of light arrowed from the tree’s trunk and burned her skin. Nyoko shot one of the tree’s limbs, but it lashed back in an eyeblink, its thorns racking across Nyoko’s body. Arden flung a dagger into one of the thing’s bulging eyes… and it screamed.

It screamed a wordless plea—to powers beyond their comprehension—for strength, for forgiveness, for mercy, while knowing that mercy was impossible.

Dimly, Mena was aware that Kormick, Arden, Twiggy, and Unsuku were wilting beneath the agony of that scream. Mostly, she heard it reverberate in her own heart: it was the sound of someone doing an evil that must be done.

And Mena thought: _No. That is *my* scream. I promised Rose, if anyone had to do this evil, it would be me. Not you._

She bit down, clenched her fist on her sword, and drove all the despair back down.

“STAND. YOUR. GROUND.” she roared to her companions. “STAND!”

She strode into Orchid’s whirling branches as thorns raked Arden and a limb came thundering toward Kormick. Mena lopped off that limb and grabbed Arden’s arm, steadying her and shaking the lost, scream-stunned expression off her face in one quick move.  Tavi’s flaming blade whirled into view and gashed the tree-creature on its other side.

Orchid dropped Rose. Arden, Twiggy, and Nyoko kept up an assault on the tree as Mena dodged in, threw an arm around Rose, and helped the girl limp away. They only got a few feet before Mena felt an impact and found herself flying: a limb had swept into her ribs and she landed, hard, on the cave’s rocky floor. 

As Mena rolled to her feet, she saw Rose retreating farther, behind Twiggy, while the rest of the group threw everything they had at Orchid. It was working. Severed limbs littered the floor, the trunk dripped a sappy ichor from many gashes, and Mena didn’t think she was imagining that the tree’s movements were ever so slightly slower now. She stepped forward to join Tavi, who was dueling one large limb, and Kormick, who was hammering at another.

Then, of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed something large and white in the darkness at the back of the cave. There was a grunt and a thump as the last surviving white ape came up behind Rose and punched her to the ground.

Orchid seized the moment to press forward, her roots propelling her across the ground like countless crooked limbs, fingers, toes, her remaining branches brushing everyone aside with renewed vigor, until she towered over Rose.  Mena saw Rose’s wide eyes as she looked up at the monstrosity, one look before Orchid’s roots snaked up around Rose’s neck and clenched, and the tree’s strange lightning blazed into Rose’s face, burning her, and Mena saw—they all saw—Rose’s body first stiffen and then go limp.

For one split second, Mena’s heart stopped. 

Then her armor screamed a battle cry, she raised her sword, and they all moved as one. Twiggy and Tavi threw light and flame. Nyoko shot arrow after arrow, ducking and weaving under the thrashing limbs. Arden sprang onto a branch near Mena and hung on long enough to jam a dagger straight into the point where the lightning seemed to emerge: the blazing light flared and went dark, while Arden was flung backwards and landed in a roll. Kormick, meanwhile, took it upon himself to deal with the ape: “Why! Won’t! You! Die!” he bellowed, punctuating each word with a hammer stroke, until on the final word the ape keeled over and was still. 

Mena saw Savina attempting to reach Rose, but a lithe figure got there first: Unsuku. The Adept uncorked a healing potion, lifted Rose’s unconscious head, and tipped the potion down her throat. 

The instant Rose’s eyes blinked, Mena yelled at her, “Teleport behind Kormick! NOW!”

_Flash_. Rose appeared huddled behind Kormick, next to the ape’s corpse. In the same moment, Mena saw the tree quake all over as a pulse of light rippled across the earth beneath it: it was standing in the zone of _Consecrated Ground_ that Savina had cast, and this weakened it.

“Surround Orchid!” Mena yelled.  “Don’t let her move!” The others caught on quickly, moving to confine the creature to the prayer-touched ground. Savina’s eyes were nearly closed as she concentrated intently, keeping the zone’s power intact. Everyone else piled on, hitting the tree with all the strength they had left. It thrashed and jabbed in return, but Mena was certain that it couldn’t last much longer.

With a terrible _crack_, the tree launched one more massive bolt of energy over their heads, arcing down straight toward Rose. 

Kormick threw himself in its path. The light slammed into his body, burning him, but Rose was spared. 

Kormick came to his feet and, in the same motion, began to stride toward the tree, his eyes—two glints beneath his lowered brow—locked onto the tree-creature.  He threw aside one warhammer and raised the other in both hands. Then, like a logger felling an oak, he smashed the warhammer into the side of Orchid’s trunk.  The hammer hit with a pulpy, wet thud, and the trunk collapsed like long-rotted wood, the hammer sinking into its heart. 

Something deep within the tree screamed—not in pain, but in sorrow. The tree-creature that had been Orchid keeled over onto the ground Savina had blessed and lay still.

Around them, the birds, bats, and insects fluttered away into the night.

Silence fell, but for the endless wind in the trees outside.

Savina picked her way through the mass of dead branches toward one inhuman eye that still stared sightlessly upward. Murmuring words of Alirrian comfort, Savina closed the eye.  “She took on an aspect of the goddess,” Savina said softly. “Not an angel, but a power that was more than she could hope to handle. She must have died as the tree came into being. She gave her life for—for this.”

They said little else as Twiggy re-set Orchid’s teleport circle in the back of the cave. Savina healed Rose and Kormick with what energy she had left, and then they gathered in the circle to teleport back to Overlook and resume their journey to Divine Mark.

Rose never said a word. And Mena never left her side.


----------



## Ilex

*35x01*

As they stepped out of the teleport building in Overlook, a stray nighttime breeze fluttered Rose’s cloak.  She grabbed the hood and pulled it more tightly forward around her face, her hand holding it clenched at her throat.  Twiggy couldn’t see her expression at all.

As they walked back to their lodgings through the darkened city, Savina was the first to venture a comment.

“Rose…?” she said.  Rose’s free hand made a brief gesture that Twiggy understood well: _not now_.

“What Orchid told us… it’s almost good news,” Savina continued.

“There you go,” Kormick chimed in encouragingly. “You’re not going to destroy the world after all, yes?  It’s just that any random stranger who stabs you… might.”

Twiggy said nothing, understanding that Rose didn’t want to talk.  As silence fell again, Twiggy simply hoped that her presence at Rose’s side was at least a little comforting.

In the morning, they all settled into two carriages to continue their interrupted journey to Divine Mark.  They had gone as far as they could go by teleport: the Lord High Regent’s home city had no public teleport circles.  Now they would have a three-day journey over the high plateau beyond Overlook, slowly climbing, until they reached the holy city among another range of mountains in the west.

Twiggy craned her neck out the carriage window to see as much of Overlook as she could before they left it behind.  This town was perched high on the edge of a plateau with vast views to the east, toward Cauldron and beyond.  Twiggy thought of how far they’d traveled since leaving Pol Henna, and she wondered how much farther they might go.  In the profound distance, where the land blurred into sky, she imagined she could see a twinkle of water—the Halmae Sea?  But she was certain she was imagining it.  _We’ve come farther than I can see, even from up here_, she knew.

The first day of travel took them across farmland: a smooth ride past workers in fields.  Except for the unhappy silence emanating from Rose’s corner of the carriage, the day was pleasant.  Twiggy wondered how long she should let Rose brood.  At some point, they had to talk, not only to give Rose support but to figure out the meaning of everything they’d been told.  She caught Mena’s eye and guessed that Mena was thinking the same thing; Mena gave her a sympathetic look and a head-shake that said _not yet_. 

Twiggy settled for mentally reviewing everything Orchid had told them. It had been such an infuriating conversation: beyond the obvious fact that Orchid had been trying to kill her best friend, Twiggy had found her refusal to explain things maddening.  _How_ had the Council of Mothers reached their conclusions?  What spells?  What divinations?  What was their level of certainty about this Agent of Destruction business?  She found herself getting angry all over again.

Up above her, from where he was riding outside with the driver, Twiggy heard Kormick exhale comfortably—she could almost imagine him stretching—and say, “Now _this_ is more what I was expecting when I agreed to escort a rich girl on a trip.”  She tried to follow his lead, rolling her shoulders to loosen them and forcing herself to look out and enjoy the views.  

It wasn’t easy.

That night at the waystation, Nyoko played and sang, to the delight of the travelers gathered there.  Then Unsuku took the floor to dance, and Nyoko sat down next to Twiggy with a small cup of rice wine.

“Have you ever been to Divine Mark?” Twiggy asked her.

“I have not.”

“Is that because it’s kind of a forbidden place?”

“Not at all,” said Nyoko. “It’s merely very remote. Also quite formal.”

Twiggy thought that every city in the Sovereignty was, to put it mildly, quite formal; she wondered what nightmare of bureaucratic rigidity they were riding into.  Nyoko must have caught the expression on her face, because she smiled.

“Don’t worry. Many pilgrims visit there,” Nyoko said. “They welcome and understand travelers in that sense. But it is a place of intense tradition. I will be shocked, for example, if we catch a glimpse of the Lord High Regent, even though we have been invited by Lady Akiko-san herself.  By custom, he would never interact with heathens… or an Adept of my level.”

“What exactly do pilgrims do there?” asked Twiggy. 

“Well, there are shrines, of course. And on certain festivals the Lord High Regent might hold a public celebration and bless the crowds… hold on…” Nyoko leaned forward, observing Unsuku’s gestures intently.

“What is it?”

“This is the Dance of the Earth United. I’ve working on it in my spare time.”

“—You’ve had spare time?”

“I hope never to be obliged to say it to her face, but Unsuku is… frustratingly good. Watching her is instructive.”

Twiggy settled back and watched the dance, too.  It _was_ good. In fact, it was mesmerizing, knitting the crowd into a sense of such shared experience that, at the end, they all collectively sighed.  Twiggy found herself smiling into her fellow travelers’ faces as if they were old friends, all of them sharing the enjoyment of the performance they’d just seen.  She even felt connected to Unsuku herself, and remembered that Unsuku had, in fact, helped save Rose’s life the night before.  Perhaps the self-involved, ambitious Adept was becoming part of their family, after all.




> And thus Nyoko learns the “Anthem of Unity” ritual.




On the second day, out of nowhere, Rose finally spoke up, as if voicing her conclusion from a long process of silent thought: “I agree, in the final analysis, there is—perhaps—good news.  It’s just that, in the moment, it hurt.”

“In more ways than one,” said Twiggy, thinking of Rose’s battered body during the fight.  

“I am glad to know more about your situation,” stated Mena, picking up the conversation as if they’d been chatting about nothing else throughout the journey. “This information about an Agent of Destruction who seeks your death is disturbing but clarifying.  That said, the Council of Mothers’ research is not complete. We must not mistake knowing _more_ for knowing _everything_.”

“Exactly,” said Twiggy. “Orchid wouldn’t tell us everything she knew, and it’s obvious even her people only understand part of the puzzle.”

They spent the rest of the ride going over everything they had learned—and getting nowhere. Somewhere out there, a Sedellan agent waited to kill Rose.  And if that being (a person? an angel? something else?) succeeded, then… “The end of all that has been made,” mused Twiggy aloud. “Not ‘the end of the world,’ exactly. The wording seems extremely precise.”

“And yet extremely vague,” sighed Mena.  “Didn’t I teach you to refrain from passive voice when you were trying to make your point clearly?  ‘Made’…by whom?  By the gods?  That would, indeed, be catastrophic.  Made by Culetto the cobbler during a particularly eventful visit to the outhouse last Tuesday? Less terrifying.”  

“I don’t think it’s the latter,” said Rose.

On the third and final day of their journey to Divine Mark, the traffic on the road slowly increased, as did the number of roadside stands.  By afternoon, the road was lined with merchants’ stalls selling snacks and trinkets to the pilgrims entering the city—Kormick bought a red chapbook to send home to his mentor Brother Scribe—and sunbeams shot over the mountains that rose directly ahead. 

They were still talking.

“So you want to know more information,” said Rose. “So do I—I think.  But is this going to keep happening?  These attacks by the Alirrians?  By others?  What about next time, and the time after that?”

“We’ll protect you,” said Twiggy.

“But who’s protecting all of _you_? I’m not the only one who nearly died last night…”

“We make our own choices,” said Mena.

“And I choose to be here, with you,” said Twiggy.

“Balls of stone!” hollered a shockingly familiar voice from outside. “Big balls of stone! Big, tough balls of stone!”

The carriages jerked to a halt and Twiggy glimpsed Arden—who’d been riding on the outside, like Kormick—leap down and stride into the crowd, a chill gaze locked on something up ahead.  Kormick was two steps behind her, growling “You have _got_ to be kidding me” as he passed the carriage’s window.

Vatik was back.


----------



## spyscribe

Ah...good old Vatik.


----------



## ellinor

*35x02*

As they strode toward the rag-tag market stall containing the bellowing dwarf, Arden turned back and gave Kormick a quick, meaningful jerk of her head. He understood her instantly and continued to march toward Vatik while Arden slipped into the crowd and vanished.

“Giant balls, tiny balls! Buy my little, tiny--” Vatik’s last word ended in a gulp as Kormick’s shadow fell over him. 

The dwarf wasted no time wheeling and dodging backward out of the stall--only to run into Arden and nearly impale himself on her dagger.  As he backed off, she twirled the dagger meaningfully, almost hungrily.

“How was Dar Und?” asked Kormick, thinking back on the fine letter he’d written to introduce Vatik to his countrymen--and all, apparently, for nothing. 

“Ah. Right. Funny you should ask,” said Vatik, turning back around with an ingratiating smile.  His Common, Kormick noted, was much improved. “It was nice, for a day, but then things got warm. Very warm. For me.”

“So you came back to the place you’d been _thrown out of_?” Kormick wasn’t sure if he felt more irritation at Vatik’s waste of his time or admiration for Vatik’s shamelessness.

“This is not the same place! This is high up, different mountain! How could I know you’d follow poor Vatik here?”

“All mountains belong to Kettenek,” Arden observed.  “And so they’re deadly places, especially for lying, cheating--”

“But not for poor, honest merchants, pretty lady,” said Vatik. He held out several rocks carved roughly into spheres--plainly unmagical and not even particularly decorative. Twenty stalls they’d already passed were selling the exact same thing to souvenir-seekers.  “Not for honest Vatik just trying to sell his balls to the pilgrims.” 

Kormick squelched a smirk, charmed to see the look of chilly distaste on Arden’s face. She’d lived with a lot of rough people--_was_ rough, herself--but just then she looked about as disgusted by this petty scoundrel as Brother Scribe did when he caught a grammatical error.

Arden shot her next words past Vatik to Kormick: “We would have an obligation to report any merchant to the local Inquisitors, Justicar, if we suspected he was selling false relics or operating without a permit. This could be sacrilege.”

Vatik’s improved language skills vanished. “So apology-sorry. I no Common good.” He turned to Kormick. “I no understand servant-girl. What be ‘permit’? Is like bagel?”

“You heard her,” said Kormick. “Why not show us how these relics work?  You could eat a couple and then shove the rest up your--”

“Ha ha ha!” Vatik’s laugh was beautifully forced. “Tell you what!” He began fumbling several small bottles out of a dirty sack. “Presents! For you! To make up for this terrible misunderstanding!”

Kormick made a quick grab to prevent the bottles from falling out of Vatik’s shaking hands.  He took a look, holding a vial up to the sunlight. Then he uncorked one and took a sniff.

“Healing potions,” he declared.

“Are you sure?” Arden asked.

“We can check with Savina, but these seem legit. After all, he’s given us working items before--”

“Yes!  Always generous, me!  They’re very best!  Highest quality!”

“They’ll _work_,” said Kormick.  “Stick to that.”

Vatik held up five stone balls. “More gifts!” he said.

“Those, we do not need.”

Vatik nonetheless bestowed the whole load abruptly on Arden, finally forcing a stop to the dagger-twirling as she struggled to catch them. “Justicar--” she growled.

“The murder-slave is losing patience, Vatik,” said Kormick. “So, thanks to your generous gift--”

“--bribe--” muttered Arden.

“--we’ll be on our way. Stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, of course, always!  And don’t forget to tell everyone you meet: Vatik gave you his balls!”

As they walked back to the carriages, Arden dumped the balls into Kormick’s arms and snatched one of the vials from his hand. She gave it a skeptical sniff.

“Smells like the good stuff, yes?” asked Kormick.

“It does,” she allowed.  “But listen, Justicar. Next time, I really might kill him.”

“No, you won’t.”

She sighed in frustrated agreement.  “Then the local authorities. We know he’s a con artist, he’s broken laws, let’s turn him in… Justicar, _please_?”

“You sound like a kid begging for candy.  Alas, I’d prefer to watch him enrage you.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“You should be, murder-slave.  Now give these potions to Savina while I present Dame Mena with Vatik’s balls.”

Kormick felt victorious to see Arden turn away quickly to hide an involuntary twitch of her mouth, a leak of amusement. They really did understand each other well.

###

Nyoko had spent the past half hour in a semi-doze, her mind automatically recording the conversations around her even as she registered them as personal, not requiring Witness. Justicar Kormick and Dame Mena, in particular, were engaged in a mock-serious disputation about a lakeside cabin they proposed to build together in Dar Und “when all of this is over.”  Given that the two had not yet (as far as Nyoko had Witnessed) actually admitted their obvious affection for each other, let alone consummated it, Nyoko found the discussion premature.  

But she knew flirting when she heard it.  She found her mind drifting back to the samisen player at the Indulgence Party… 

Then, as the carriages crested a small rise, Nyoko looked out and saw the city of Divine Mark, at last, before them.  It towered above the road: an elegant, intimidating cluster of right angles, pale marble, and obsidian, cold but beautiful. Behind the buildings rose the sheer cliffs of the mountains, dominating the city just as the city dominated the road, and built up to and against those cliffs, in a half-circle, were the seven great complexes of the Rings of the Sovereignty.  The middle palace was, of course, the home of the Lord High Regent, built with a huge and ornate presentation balcony protruding from its exact center. Nyoko wondered if she would see that balcony occupied by its master.

The carriages entered the city, which seemed quiet and orderly compared to the raucous market stalls on the road: here, the people walked solemnly and the road was paved with near-perfect smoothness.  Nyoko glimpsed striking architecture, stunning mosaics, and tranquil rock gardens as the carriages wound upward toward the great House of the Ring of the Inquisition.  

All too soon, they found themselves facing the long, stark main corridor within that House.  Nyoko barely had time for a few whispered reminders of protocol before they were ushered into a sparsely decorated audience chamber and found themselves facing the woman they had worked so hard to meet, the woman who might be next in line to the “dying king” of their prophecy: Lady Akiko-san, Head of the Inquisition and Heir to the Lord High Regent.


----------



## Ilex

*35x03*

Lady Akiko-san was nearing fifty years old, and she radiated vigor and intellect.  She wore a simple Inquisitorial robe and a narrow, plain headdress that Nyoko nonetheless recognized instantly as the symbol of her office as heir to the Lord High Regent.  

Nyoko noticed all this in a swift glance as she bowed deeply, cutting her eyes to one side to check that her comrades were making serviceable bows as well.  Lady Akiko-san graced them with a magnanimous nod of her head in return.  

“You are late,” she said, not unpleasantly.

Nyoko was unsurprised that Unsuku was the fastest to reply: the ambitious Adept had, in a sense, been practicing all her life for this audience… and, to be fair, letting her take credit was part of the deal they’d struck with her. “We faced unavoidable delays, my Lady,” she replied. “Thus we were forced to remember that there is an order higher than ours.”

Lady Akiko-san gestured toward a row of pillows in front of the raised platform on which she stood, and then knelt on a pillow of her own.  The party--with varying degrees of grace (“Kneel, don’t sit cross-legged, Honored Justicar,” Nyoko murmured)--settled onto their pillows facing her.

“Report on your work with the Inquisition this past summer,” Lady Akiko-san said then.

“I will describe the events as I Witnessed them,” Unsuku said. “For certain incidents I did not personally observe, I will request your indulgence as my assistant--” she nodded to Nyoko-- “testifies to them instead.”  Nyoko kept her face impassive despite the waves of outrage she sensed from Twiggy, Dame Mena, and the others on her behalf.  

With that, Unsuku began her recitation, describing--with Nyoko’s help--the entire investigation of the Tide in Cauldron.  Nyoko noted that Unsuku elegantly shaded the events to imply the necessity of her own presence to an otherwise barely competent investigation without ever including a word of untruth: it was equivocation of such subtlety that Justicar Kormick probably envied it.

Two hours and forty-seven minutes later, Unsuku’s Witness concluded.  

Lady Akiko-san sighed.  “I commend you all for your service.  It has been hard to carry out the Affirmation, and I am disappointed by Mother Kawazu’s treachery.  It is heartening to hear in person of your efforts to resolve this matter: I thank you for coming all this way to share it with me. Few heathens would have done any of this.”

“The honor is ours,” Unsuku said, bowing.  Nyoko suspected she was disgruntled that the heathens were getting any credit at all.

“I am not alone in wishing to express my gratitude,” Lady Akiko-san continued. “I invite you all to join me tonight at dinner.”

“Again, the honor would be entirely ours,” Unsuku said. “I would, in addition, be honored all the more if you would permit me to dance as a humble part of the evening’s entertainment.”

_Of course you would,_ Nyoko thought, squelching an urge to roll her eyes. _And I’m going to count that word “humble” as a lie, because that is a terribly inaccurate description of your attitude._ 

Lady Akiko-san was nodding graciously and Unsuku was smiling.  With another round of bowing, the group was preparing to rise when, suddenly, Tavi spoke up.

“Lady Akiko-san,” he said in his careful, most formal voice, “I am Signor Octavian of Pol Henna, and I must speak to you about another matter before this meeting concludes.”

Nyoko was startled by his Peninsular bluntness, but more than that, she was gratified to see a quick flash of disgusted shock on Unsuku’s face: Unsuku didn’t know what this was about, and she didn’t like that one bit.

“Speak,” said Lady Akiko-san, herself apparently unperturbed.

“This is a matter of greatest confidentiality, as well as of greatest importance,” said Tavi. “We need to request your help in solving a mystery that surrounds my sister, and that appears to involve divinities as well as mortals.”  

With that, he began to tell Rose’s story, from the time before her birth when she became her mother’s Sacrifice of Death, through the prophecy at the spring, through the research Twiggy and others had conducted about the Sheh, through Sister Orchid’s information about the Agent of Destruction.  “And so,” he concluded, “we would be grateful for any history you could share with us about these matters, perhaps especially about the Sheh.  And… I’m not sure how to say this with as much diplomatic sensitivity as I could wish, but we wonder--we fear--if the Lord High Regent might be the ‘dying king’ the prophecy describes.”

At last, he fell silent.

A small smile crossed Akiko-san’s face.

“One puzzle _I_ had not yet solved,” she said, “was exactly _why_ a troupe of heathens would be willing to work so very hard to aid the Inquisition in its time of need, and why they would come to see me in person afterward. I now have my answer.”

“Don’t mistake us,” said Savina. “We wanted to help support the Affirmation, too--”

Akiko-san gently waved away Savina’s concern. “Of course. I did not mean to imply that your motives were in any way base.  You desired to support the Affirmation, and you desire to save this young woman…” 

She looked at Rose.  Rose looked back. A moment passed. 

“The Lord High Regent is dying,” Akiko-san said then.  Nyoko, who had suspected as much, felt a jolt of sadness anyway. “He must be considered a candidate to suit your prophecy,” Akiko-san continued.  “Foreign intelligence brings us word of no monarch who can more accurately be described as a dying king. I trust your information is similar.”

Tavi nodded.  “May we meet with him?”

“Unlikely in the extreme,” said Akiko-san.  “The Lord High Regent seldom meets with heathens, and then only those of the utmost rank.  But the matter will be considered. As for the rest, I commend you to the Military librarians.  They should have records of the various armed expeditions into Sheh lands, and you may find answers there.”

“Thank you,” said Tavi.

“I do not envy the challenge Kettenek has placed before you,” Akiko-san said, then caught herself.  “I suppose _you_ would say: the challenge that _Ehkt_ has placed before you… but in all honesty, it seems to me that whether Kettenek has placed the mountain in your path or Ehkt is spurring you to the top, it is a hard road regardless.  The rest is semantics.  I will see you for dinner this evening.”

As they left the room, Nyoko overheard Kormick say to Mena, “_She_ could come to the cabin.”

“Yes,” said Mena.  “And _you_ could go fishing that day.”


----------



## ellinor

*Rain Delay*

Not to worry, everyone.  Our post this week has been held up due to personal/practical concerns, but regular posting will resume shortly.  Thanks for your patience!


----------



## Falkus

No worries at all; I'll be eagerly reading it whenever it's posted


----------



## Ilex

*35x04*

Yutori, the palace’s protocol director, was quite possibly the most Sovereign Sovereign Twiggy had ever met. He was obsessed with nitpicky propriety, not to mention making sure that Akiko-san’s honored guests bathed before they attended her dinner.  

Naturally, Acorn _deeply_ approved of him.  

When Yutori began explaining the proper order for use of different pairs of chopsticks during the meal, the mouse demanded tiny chopsticks through his mental link with Twiggy.  

“My mouse generally dines with me,” Twiggy said out loud, half to oblige Acorn and half out of curiosity to see what Yutori would do with this wrinkle.

The man barely blinked an eye—the relevant word being “barely.”  Twiggy caught the repressed twitch of his eyebrow.

“Of course,” Yutori said.  “A small pillow beside your own.”

Find out if he’s married! Acorn mentally sighed.

_I don’t think he’s your type…_ Twiggy sent back.

Not for _me_!

And so, Acorn beside her, Twiggy took her seat at Lady Akiko’s table along with the rest of the party.  They were not the only guests at dinner.  Lady Akiko sat to the left of the seat at the head of the table, which was conspicuously empty in tribute to the ailing Lord High Regent.  Tavi was seated not far from Twiggy, next to Corrado di Riori, the Hennan ambassador to Divine Mark.  Kormick was immediately deep in talk with an Undian woman beside him; presumably, Twiggy guessed, she was Lukas’s ambassador. _Or at least as much of an ambassador as Kormick himself is a Justicar_, Twiggy thought, suppressing a smile.

Twiggy herself was seated next to a merchant who told her, proudly, that he had charge of a lucrative Karonian contract.  She tried to nod politely while, at the same time, listen past him to Tavi and Signor Corrado:  Tavi had asked for news of the Peninsula.

“Things are tense,” Signor Corrado answered.  “The Alliance and the Confederacy are verbally skirmishing.  There was a slave revolt in Pol Aego--don’t worry--they put it down quickly.  But the slaves have been restive there ever since, and the rumors at home are that the Confederate states, Dar Pykos and their ilk, have been encouraging such revolts to undermine the Alliance.  Dar Pykos, by contrast, claims that the Aegosians are hiring mercenaries--Sunblades, you know--as if the Aegosians are the ones making trouble.  And of course Pol Thane is always up for a good war, and I’ve heard even Ebis is antsy.  It’s starting to sound like nearly everyone’s spoiling for a fight, and so it’s tricky, Signor.  Damned tricky.”**

At that moment, the musicians struck a louder chord and Unsuku stepped forward to dance.  All conversation gave way to laughter—at least among the Sovereigns—as Unsuku’s movements told a whimsical tale that Twiggy couldn’t quite follow.  She was distracted, anyway, by the news from home: she hoped the cooler heads in Pol Henna would be able to speak for the Alliance and soothe matters with the Confederacy.

### 

The next morning, in accordance with Lady Akiko-san’s suggestion that they conduct more research into the prophecy and the Sheh, one functionary arrived to announce that they were expected at the Military library, a second appeared to declare them invited to the Adept Archives, and third followed almost immediately with word that Akiko-san herself would like to see them briefly first.

As they were led into a drawing room high in the palace, where Akiko-san rose to greet them, Twiggy was startled to see an ancient man sitting in a soft chair in the corner, staring at the floor.  

Akiko-san made no attempt to introduce the man as she wished them a good morning.  The old man did not look at them.

“I am very sorry to inform you,” Akiko-san pronounced, “that it will be impossible for a group of heathens such as yourselves to meet with the Lord High Regent.”

Twiggy noticed how very fine the old man’s robes were.  She noticed the ornately carved staff of stone leaning against the chair beside him.  And she noticed the barest hint of a smile on his face as he continued to contemplate the carpet beneath his slippered feet.

“Of course.  Such a meeting would be quite impossible,” said Nyoko.

“We understand perfectly,” said Mena.

“Perhaps,” said Tavi, “you would not mind if we told you the whole story of my sister and the prophecy once more, just to refresh your memory.”

“What an excellent idea,” said Akiko-san, gesturing them to couches and chairs.

The old man listened, impassive, as they told the story and recited the prophecy once again.  Occasionally he coughed a grating, painful cough; Twiggy saw Savina watching him with concern.

“I wish I could offer you more insight,” said Akiko-san when they were finished.  “If my Lord were able to meet with you, I believe he, too, would suspect that he is the dying king named…”

She paused for a single second, but the old man remained silent.  Not even a cough.  

She continued: “...for not only is he ailing, but also his greatest experts in divination inform us that his death will occur soon, in the season of Kettenek.”

_The season of Kettenek,_ Twiggy thought. _Winter._  It was only just turned autumn.

“Can’t something be done?” Savina was asking.

“Even if something could,” Akiko-san said, “he would not wish it. Already he has begun to prepare for and anticipate his return to Rikitaru’s side.”

“The prophecy says that we’re supposed to ‘find the last breath of the dying king,’” Twiggy said.  “Prophecies are rarely literal, so I’d guess that means his last words.  Does that sound correct?”  She cut her eyes to the old man, who remained silent, impassive, listening.  

“That is possible,” Akiko-san said. If they were to hear his last words, then, they would need to be in Divine Mark three months hence.  Twiggy tried to imagine waiting for three months in Divine Mark, enduring tedious formal dinners every night.  Acorn sent up a hopeful cheer at the thought.

“He will, of course, be attended upon his deathbed…?” Nyoko asked.  

“Of course,” Akiko-san agreed.  “I will be there, as will an Adept.  A Lord High Regent rules until his soul departs, and if he issues directives in the final moments, they must be recorded and obeyed.”

“Do you think he will?” asked Kormick, looking at and addressing the old man rather than Akiko-san.  “Because—allow me to speak as plainly as I can—it’d be _very helpful_ to know _now_ if he plans any major deathbed speeches.”

Akiko-san allowed a pause once more, during which the old man coughed but said nothing.

“I cannot predict that,” Akiko-san said.  “But as I said, I will be there, alongside an Adept, and all concerned will bear in mind that you would very much like to know what transpires.”

The old man’s cough was growing steadier, and Akiko-san stood up.  “I am sorry I cannot help you more,” she said.  “But I must resume my duties now.”

As they all shuffled out of the room, Savina murmured, “He’s consumptive.  What time he has left will be painful.  I wish I could help.”

“Do you believe he’ll live three more months?” asked Mena.

Savina shrugged unhappily.  “Maybe.  But if he makes it much past Kettenek Rising, I will be surprised, and… and sorry for him, if he must suffer for too long.”

_**Anyone who wants a refresher on all these place-names might revisit this sidebar post from alllll the way back in the original “Welcome to the Halmae” story hour.  That said, in the in-game years between that campaign and this one, the Darine Confederacy endured a schism primarily over the issue of adopting a Universal Law code: these days, the Confederacy consists only of Dar Darine, Dar Pykos, Dar Karo, Dar Sirrus, and Dar Und.  A number of city-states who objected to Universal Law split off from the Confederacy and formed the Peninsular Alliance: Pol Henna, Pol Aego, Pol Thane, and Pol Stonecraft._​


----------



## babomb

Ilex said:


> "...in the season of Kettenek.”




Aren't they all his seasons? If you're not a heathen, I mean.


----------



## Ilex

babomb said:


> Aren't they all his seasons? If you're not a heathen, I mean.




Yes, indeed they are in a larger sense! But the Sovereigns still think of the seasons as having the flavor of the various affiliated godlings: we celebrated "Ehkt's Judgment" with the Sovereigns in summertime, for example, when the Peninsula would be celebrating "Ehkt Ascendant."  So if the season of summer is Kettenite with Ehkt sprinkles, winter is Kettenite with Kettenek sprinkles.    

Ahhhh, fond memories of Ehkt's Judgment.  Mena pantsing that guy and Kormick hollering _PERFIDY_!!!!!...


----------



## Fajitas

While everyone refers to the seasons as Spring, Summer, Winter, and Fall, the rest of the world also calls them the seasons of Alirria, Ehkt, Sedellus, and Kettenek.  In the Sovereignty, they would be the Season of Kettenek's Birthing, the Season of Kettenek's Building, the Season of Kettenek's Sleeping, and The Season of Kettenek.


----------



## Ilex

*35x05*

The rest of the day’s research complicated matters.  And not just because the Military Library’s filing system was, itself, ridiculously complicated.  (_The First Expedition records are under “F” for “first,” and the Second Expedition records are three floors down under “S” for “second”?  Who *does* that_?! was Twiggy’s first reaction before realizing that the Military Librarian of Divine Mark, Myosho-san, did that.  And was very satisfied with it.  And would brook no questioning of her methods.)  

After a stint among the labyrinthine halls of scrolls, Twiggy and Mena, with Nyoko’s help, were able to learn more details about the three expeditions that the Sovereigns had sent to destroy the Sheh.  Shortly after the First Expedition had vanished roughly a hundred years ago into the wilderness west of Divine Mark, the Second Expedition—a larger force, better equipped—took a different route west into Sheh territories.  It found no trace of the First Expedition, but it did encounter violent resistance from the Sheh: that Expedition’s Adept reported magical attacks by plants, animals, rocks, and fire as well as more mundane assaults by Sheh warriors.  After many bloody battles, the Sheh were finally beaten into silence: slaughtered, the survivors forcibly converted to Sovereign belief.

The Third Expedition was more recent—about seventy-five years past—and it came about because of a strange series of murders: a rash of midwives were smothering Sovereign infant girls.  Further investigation revealed the shocking fact that the midwives were Sheh.  The Sovereignty had believed the Sheh extinct, but some had apparently survived—and there were rumors that they were acting upon a prophecy.  

_The Sheh madwoman whose dying speech we uncovered must have been one of those midwives,_ Twiggy realized. 

The murders had begun in remote Sovereign settlements on the fringes of the wilderness, then traced their way east.  The Third Expedition, determined to destroy this eerie resurgence of the Sheh people, followed the Second Expedition’s path west.  It met no resistance, and what Sheh it found, it easily killed.  

“And that was the end of the Sheh,” declared Myosho-san, with what sounded disturbingly like satisfaction.

The party left the Military Library with maps of the routes taken by both the First Expedition and the latter two, and a bad feeling that the Sheh’s prophecy about murdering girl babies sounded a lot like Sister Orchid’s mission to kill Rose.  

“Not that Sister Orchid was Sheh,” Nyoko pointed out.  “Sheh people looked much like Sovereigns, whereas Orchid was plainly Peninsular.”

“Agreed,” said Mena, “but it’s fairly clear that the Sheh had their own information about the birth of a girl child they feared.  We need to know everything they knew.”

The Archives of the Adepts were a far more pleasant place to work.  And after the brutal facts of the Military records, the Adept records were relievingly full of colorful minutia: the names of the Adepts who accompanied each Expedition, sketches of Sheh totem markers, notes on fascinating beasts of the western Ketkath.

The party also learned many more details about the Sheh murderers.  A number of the convicted killers made dying speeches akin to the madwoman’s, and witness testimonies suggested that the Sheh midwives only selected certain girls—sometimes merely by glancing at the mother.  _Would they have targeted Rose after a glance at Dona Giovanna?_ Twiggy wondered, with a chill.

Most of the murderers were caught, but a few cases had gone unsolved—in a sequence of towns that drew a line on the map toward the coastal city of Seaward.  “One of the Sheh may have gotten away,” said Nyoko.

“And gone to Seaward,” added Mena.

“And to the Peninsula after that,” concluded Kormick.

Twiggy cast a quick glance at Rose.  “This happened seventy-five years ago,” Twiggy reminded them.  “No murders have been recorded since.  Whoever it was is probably dead by now.”

“Probably,” muttered Tavi, his hand unconsciously finding the hilt of his wakizashi.

###  

And so, at the end of that long day, they had a choice.  They could stay in Divine Mark and await the Lord High Regent’s death, or they could seize the intervening three months to follow one of the two cold trails before them: east, to Seaward, or west, into Sheh lands.

Twiggy was sure she wanted to be on the move, tracking down clues rather than standing a depressing vigil in Divine Mark.  But she was bracing herself for the party’s usual lengthy, complicated debate when suddenly Savina said, “I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the Ketkath.  Going west feels right to me.”

Unseen by Savina, Arden shot a wry, mock-beleaguered look at Kormick:  _Gods, now she’s gotten a taste for adventure. I’m in real trouble_, it seemed to say.  Kormick mouthed back words that looked suspiciously like: _Unnatural, bloody deaths_… Neither one of them looked sincere, though: Twiggy guessed they supported Savina’s suggestion.

“I find myself agreeing,” said Mena.  “I would rather seek the original source of the Sheh’s knowledge than one murderous and aged bearer thereof—as long as we can be back here by winter.”

It turned out that everyone had essentially the same intuition: go west.  

“Phoebe says west is obviously best because east is backward and we’ve already been there,” Tavi added, and so it was decided.  

Two days later, they set forth into the wilderness.


----------



## ellinor

*36x01*

As the group stopped to catch its breath, Kormick brushed some leaves from a rock and sat down to write in his journal.  A gust of wind fluttered the pages.



> (Sept. 7)
> We set off this morning from the Divine Mark into the Ketkath.  Vatik was not at the gates of Divine Mark, although the murder-slave was sharpening her dagger in expectation.  Half expect to see him waiting at whatever obscure ex-Sheh settlement we find in the middle of the Ketkath.
> 
> Wearing the trusty long coat again.  Feels good to be back in Undian garb after so many months in Inquisitorial robes, and it’s not as if the rodents of the Ketkath would give much deference to the robes.  Keeping the wakizashi sword, though.  The Inquisition said they were ours to keep, and they might even make a difference to the rodents.
> 
> Savina, charming girl, procured a tent—her third since we set out from Pol Henna—and a mule, which she has insisted on naming “Placid.”  Wishful thinking.  It’s already tried to run off twice.
> 
> (Sept. 13)
> Third day of steady uphill.  We are camping early today as tomorrow will be hard going.  Between Twiggy’s map and maps from the Military library in Divine Mark, we have stayed along the trail of the second Sovereign expedition, and have some warning of changes in terrain.  Glad to have the mule, although it remains anything but “placid.”  It jumps at every electric rabbit.
> 
> Speaking of which, the murder-slave makes a creditable stew of electric rabbit cooked with a spicy pink tuber.
> 
> (Sept. 17)
> Still little of note.  The trees have given way to high, rocky meadows with variegated grasses.  Fuzzy oblong creatures with large teeth float just above the ground.  Appears that they’re more scared of us than we are of them. The mule remains excitable; head-butts Savina at every opportunity.  She yowls in pain and then speaks soothingly at the beast.  Hope springs eternal.
> 
> (Sept. 24)
> Air is thinner at this elevation.  Last night we camped on a high bluff, and as the sun rose over Savina’s morning prayers, we were treated to a cold, gray view.  Wind whips through rocky passes, and the going is slow as we pick our way over rocky “paths” shored up by the Soverign expedition before us.  Only a few more days until we reach what the military maps identify as former Sheh lands.
> 
> Here and there we see Sovereign marks on the rocks claiming the territory, although as far as I can tell we are more than a week’s hike from any civilized settlement.  We’ve made camp in the shelter of a small cliff, on a patch of stabby, funereal grass surrounded by scrubby pines.




Kormick sketched what he saw:  chipped shale punctuated by tufts of flat, pitch-black grass that, if it were just a little stronger, would be less like grass and more like blades. Luckily it collapsed under a bedroll. Mostly.  

He felt Mena’s gaze on the back of his head.  “Ready?” she asked, and handed Kormick a skin of water. He took a swig.  “Yup.”  He shouldered his bag, passed the skin of water to Tavi, and began the day’s climb.  

###

Nyoko had found the journey well-suited to walking meditation. Without any forcing, her feet and breath rose and fell with the rhythm of the Mountain Mantra in her mind: “O Kettenek, high as the peaks with diamond roots, I climb to greet you, low as the springs that breathe the clouds, I stoop to—”  

“HALT!  Heathen Infidels! Lay down your arms and surrender to the Lord’s Holy Might!”

Nyoko’s focus shifted outward at once. She scanned her surroundings.  The group was in a gully, among scattered clumps of tall bushes.  As she looked more closely, she could see glinting arrows among the greenery.  They were surrounded.

A tall, stern woman in a Sovereign military uniform emerged from some foliage.  Her uniform was of the old style, but crisp and well-kept.

Nyoko pushed back her hood.  “I am Adept Nyoko of Cauldron.  Identify yourselves for my Witness.”

“I am Lieutenant Commander Tomahura of Divine Mark.” the woman responded.  “You show wisdom and sagacity, so do not be foolish.  Lay down your arms.”

Nyoko recalled something from one of the Histories about a military commander named Tomahura.  _What was that story?..._ Nyoko saw an image of a plaque in her mind.  That’s right:  a commander named Tomahura had been honored with a posthumous promotion to the rank of Marshal and a commemorative pool in one of Divine Mark’s public spaces.  _But that’s not everything …  _ Nyoko began to run through her standard memory recall exercises, but the woman glared at her with a piercing gaze that implied that it would be a mistake to wait any longer before laying down her arms.  Nyoko set her bow on the ground, where she could flip it up with her foot if necessary.  

_Perhaps this woman is a descendant of that historical Tomahura,_ Nyoko thought.  _Regardless, her expedition to the Ketkath is not authorized by the Military in Divine Mark—or stranger yet, the Military in Divine Mark is keeping her expedition a secret..._

Some of the party laid down their weapons.  As Kormick set down his warhammers, he said, “I am a servant of Kettenek in my land.  We have come in peace, in service of the Lord High Regent.”  As Tavi put down his sword, his wakizashi glinted in the sunlight.

Nyoko observed a puzzled look on Tomahura’s face.  “Lay down the flail, Infidel,” she said, glaring at Mena.

_Infidel?  She calls the heathens infidels?  Since the Affirmation, the only ones who used the term “infidel” were the Tide… or their supporters,_ Nyoko thought.  _A secret expedition with a closed-minded—possibly Tide— leader . . ._ 

“I want them all searched,” Tomahura barked.  “Especially the Infidels.”  Several soldiers advanced and searched the party.  The search was rough and thorough; they found every blade and implement the party held, aside from Arden’s well-hidden daggers, and piled them—including Nyoko’s bow and arrows—several yards away.  They confiscated all of Twiggy’s magical accoutrements, as well, although they piled them with the party’s supplies, rather than its weapons.  _No respect for wizardry, either,_ Nyoko thought. 

“I’ll want that back,” Savina insisted, as one of the soldiers tore the Alirrian symbol from her neck.  Tomahura lifted a wakizashi from the pile of weapons.  “Where did you come by this?” she asked.  

“In service to the Inquisition,” Mena responded.  “Inquisition, Inquisition,” Mena’s armor whispered.

Tomahura glared.  “Bind the Infidels and the so-called Adept.  It is obvious that you are lying.”

“Obvious only to one who does not know all the facts.  You do not know all the facts,” Nyoko explained. _Nor do we,_ she thought.

 “Has it occurred to you that we’re telling the truth?” Kormick asked.  “That we have served the Inquisition?  That the Lord High Regent has--”

“Bind the madman,” Tomahura said.

A soldier grabbed Kormick’s arm.  “Really?” Kormick asked.  “Your four archers and ten pikemen can’t defend yourself against eight travelers you have forcibly disarmed?”

Another soldier grabbed a rope and threw Savina to the ground.  

“That does it.  Disrespect me all you want, but you keep your paws off the Blessed Sister.” Kormick tore free of the guard, dove toward the pile of weapons, and grabbed a wakizashi.  

“Get them!” Mena pulled a wakizashi from a soldier’s belt and slashed at the soldier.


----------



## ellinor

*36x02*

“Don’t kill Tomahura!” Nyoko yelled.  “We need answers!”  She looked longingly at her bow on the bottom of the weapons pile.  She could see Savina, pinned under the soldier’s foot, straining to reach her holy symbol.  Everyone else’s weapons were out of reach.  Nyoko grabbed a rock and threw it at one of the archers.  It hit him square in the chest and he stumbled backward.	

Twiggy turned and glared at the pile of supplies, and her orb flew from the pile into her hand.  Her giant ball of flame erupted between Tomahura and the group, its flames licking at Tomahura’s uniform. Tomahura’s archers jumped and backed away from the sudden fire.  One screamed.  Another yelled “Sorcery!” Then Tomahura barked “stop the Infidels!”—and the archers remembered their duty.  A volley of arrows flew through the ball of fire.  One hit Mena.  Mena had gotten the soldiers’ attention—they surrounded her with their polearms, and one of them connected with a brutal stab in Mena’s arm.  Mena slashed back with her borrowed wakizashi.

The others dove into action. Tavi rolled past the ball of fire, grabbed his sword, and slashed at one of the archers’ legs.  Arden pulled a dagger from beneath her tunic, lunged forward, and slashed at the soldier restraining Savina.  As he tried to bat Arden’s dagger away, he let up the pressure on Savina’s back.  She wriggled free and grabbed her holy symbol.  “Stop!”  she yelled, casting _command_ on one of the archers.  He looked confused and dropped his bow.  At the same time, Nyoko picked up her bow, and loosed an arrow at Tomahura.  It struck her shoulder—the perfect location to distract her without leaving permanent injury.

Kormick joined Tavi on the other side of the ball of fire, and together they took on several of the soldiers: a flurry of Tavi’s flaming sword, Kormick’s warhammer and wakizashi, and the soldiers’ polearms.  Kormick’s electrical attack arced at one of the soldiers.  The soldier screamed and reached for her eyes.  

Twiggy’s fireball pushed forward, separating Tomahura from her troops.  Tomahura grasped at her uniform, trying to beat out the flames that had caught its hem.  On the other side of the fireball, Mena spun at the soldiers, shoving all of them backward—one into Kormick’s wakizashi, one into Arden’s daggers, and another toward Tavi’s back.  “Tavi, behind you!”  Mena yelled.  Tavi swung his sword backward over his shoulder.  The flat side of the blade pounded the soldier’s head.  The soldier fell, unconscious.

Nyoko and the three remaining archers traded arrows.  Nyoko incapacitated one of the archers, but the archers’ arrows connected, too.  One hit Savina in the thigh, and sank deep.  Savina’s leg buckled.  “Stop!” she yelled again, and a bolt of light sped toward the archer who had hit her.  He yelped and fell backward as it hit him.  The last archer nocked another arrow.  Arden rushed him, knocking him unconscious with the butt of her dagger.

Mena caught a soldier’s sash with the dull-edged side of her borrowed wakizashi, startling him, but not injuring him.  The soldier dropped his polearm as Mena pulled him close, twisted his arm behind him, and forced him to his knees.  “Tomahura!”  Mena announced, holding her wakizashi high.  “Your archers have fallen.  Your pikemen are surrounded.  To fight with incomplete information is dishonorable, yet you insist upon fighting.  Honor your God and stand down.”

The battlefield froze.  Liueutenant Tomahura pulled herself tall and surveyed the field.  Mena had been telling the truth.  “If I stand down, you will spare my troops?”    

Mena lowered the wakizashi.  “Of course.  To do otherwise would lack honor.”

“Then we shall stand down.”  The conscious pikemen laid down their arms.  Kormick, Tavi, and Mena bound the troops.

“May I heal your wounded?”  Savina asked.  

“No,” said Tomahura.  One of the soldiers spat at Savina, who deftly dodged the orb of spittle and turned to heal Kormick’s cuts and bruises.

_They are wearing old-style uniforms.  They act as if they have no knowledge of the Affirmation.  They seem surprised by Twiggy’s wizardry.  Is it possible,_ Nyoko wondered, _that this is Marshal Tomahura’s daughter?  That she followed the trail of the First Expedition as we did, and that she and her troops have been living out here in the woods since before the Affirmation?  No . . . if that were true, their uniforms would be threadbare . . ._

“We could kill you and your men,” Kormick said, “but we won’t.  We’re not assassins.  This is Adept Nyoko of Cauldron.  She can prove she is an Adept.”

“All she can prove is that she has _trained_ with Adepts,” Tomahura retorted.  “And that you are ridiculous.”  She chuckled.  “Heathens with wakizashis.”

Suddenly, the pieces fell into place in Nyoko’s mind.  _She is not a descendant of Marshal Tomahura.  She *is* Marshal Tomahura.  But how…_

Nyoko continued the thought aloud.  “In your time away from the Divine Mark, Lieutenant Commander Tomahura-san, many things have changed.”

Tavi picked up the conversational thread.  “Our research in Divine Mark showed that an expedition set out to find the Sheh.  We came to follow that expedition.  But that expedition left…” he looked to Twiggy for the date.

“A hundred years ago,” Twiggy continued.  “What year do you think it is?”

“The fourth of the reign of Rikitaru Ozishi,” Tomahura replied instantly.

“It is year fifty-three of the reign of Rikitaru Nori,” Nyoko said.  “And we need to figure out why you think it isn’t.”


----------



## ellinor

*36x03*

“Either we have walked into the past,” Twiggy suggested, “or you have walked into the future.”

“Or you are spies sent here to trick us.” Tomahura said.  “We captured your confederate.”

_Our *what?*_ Nyoko thought.  She saw her comrades looking equally confused.  “Please describe this person, so I may Witness it,” she said, improvising.

“Male.  Human.  Heathen.  What more is there to describe?  He is _your_ confederate, after all.”

“Lieutenant Commander Tomahura-san, we seek parlay with Adept Wazani,” declared Twiggy.  “Under Provision Seventy-Nine of the Most Noble and Holy Codex Governing All Matters of Combat and Opposition.”  

Nyoko recognized the name of the Adept that served the first expedition to Sheh lands, and recognized the provision:  a historical procedure for negotiating a truce among hostile forces.  Nyoko had never heard a tale in which it had been invoked.  After all, when hostile forces encountered the Sovereign military, they (a) seldom lasted long enough to invoke anything, and (b) weren’t familiar with obscure Sovereign military procedure.  And it made even less sense for the victor to invoke the provision to its bound captive.  

_It doesn’t make sense,_ Nyoko thought, _but perhaps it will help us find some answers._

Tomahura looked uncomfortable.  The idea of a heathen citing Sovereign military code was clearly a departure for her, as well.  But after some consideration, she nodded.  “If you unbind me and my men, we will honor your parlay.” Twiggy gave a shallow bow in return.  Tavi and Kormick untied the Sovereign forces, some of whom grumbled, but all of whom honored the truce.

“Ho-kay,” Kormick said, “where to, Lieutenant…san?”

“It is nearly dusk,” Tomahura said, “and we will not make it to our main garrison by dark.  We will camp here and set out at dawn.”

Savina leaned and whispered to Kormick, “—after dawn prayers.”  Kormick nodded discreetly. 

The parties made camp.  At midnight, Lieutenant Tomahura began a simple military prayer.  It was of an old style, but Nyoko could follow it, and joined in.  

Suddenly, a flash of light burst over a stand of trees in the distance.  Then another.  “That’s our garrison!” one of the soldiers gasped. 

“What have you done?” asked a pikeman.  

“Us?” asked Tavi.  “Nothing!  We’re here with you!  What do you think…”  The blasts continued.  Sparks rose above the trees. 

“What’s happening?”  Twiggy asked.  A loud THUMP sounded in the distance, and the earth shuddered.

“I do not know,” replied one of the soldiers.  “But we must return to help our garrison…” he turned to run—

And then he was gone.  

All the soldiers were gone.  Marshal Tomahura was gone.  The fire was gone. 

No, Nyoko realized, glimpsing the embers just behind her…no, the fire had only _moved_.  

Everything had moved, Nyoko realized.  The whole party had moved.  They were in the shelter of a small shale cliff, on a patch of sharp, black, dagger-like grass surrounded by scrubby pines. 

Nyoko would have sworn it was a case of déjà-vu… only Adepts did not experience déjà-vu.  She really was seeing the same thing again.

They hadn’t just moved.  They had returned to their campsite from the night before.

 “Have we gone back in time?”  Tavi asked.  

“No,” Twiggy said, “that can’t be.  We were here last night.  If we had gone back in time, we would see ourselves from last night.”  Twiggy paused.  “And that’s if going back in time were possible.  Which it’s not.”

“Maybe we’ve just been teleported,” Kormick said.  

_But it’s *exactly* the same as last night,_ thought Nyoko.  _A teleport wouldn’t do that._

“It’s as if time has been reversed,” Savina offered. “There were explosions in the direction of the Sovereign camp.  Could the First Expedition have somehow turned back time to save their own lives?”

“I can’t begin to imagine how,” Twiggy said, but Nyoko could see her analytical brain beginning to try to imagine how.

“The orderly march of time is Kettenek’s law,” Nyoko frowned inwardly.  Even if it were possible for the First Expedition to have turned back time, doing so would mean they had strayed as far from Sovereign doctrine as they had from Sovereign civilization.  Given that they seemed otherwise committed to tradition, she felt this was unlikely. 

Or maybe she just _hoped_ it was unlikely…    

“Regardless, we need to figure out what’s happening,” Mena said. “We know we’re back where we were last night, and we know where the Sovereigns ambushed us.  Maybe the Sovereigns are back where they were last night.  Maybe not.  But if time has somehow turned backward, then tomorrow should be just like today.  And if it is, then maybe the Sovereigns will be at the same ambush site at the same time tomorrow.  If we go there, maybe we’ll learn something about what’s going on.  If we leave now, maybe we can even get the jump on Tomahura and her troops.”

“That’s a lot of maybes,” Twiggy noted.  “Here’s another.  If all that happens, maybe Tomahura won’t remember us, and we can make an—um, a different first impression.”

“And who is this so-called confederate of ours they claim to have captured?”  Tavi asked.  “What if it’s one of us, from the future?  We should stick together, and not send anyone ahead to scout.” 

They resolved to set out together into the night toward the gully where they had encountered Lieutenant Tomahura. 

As they broke camp, Kormick ripped a leaf from his notebook, drew a smiley face on it, and slid it under a rock.  “As an experiment,” he explained.  

###

By noon, Twiggy was exhausted.  She’d stayed alert through the night, lighting the way for the party, and heaved a sigh of relief when they reached the spot where they’d encountered Tomahura.  “Rest,” Savina recommended.  “Others will keep watch.”  The group hid themselves, and hid their holy symbols and ceremonial weapons in their packs.  For hours, they traded watch.  Twiggy tried to nap, but couldn’t.  The waiting was too tense.

Late in the afternoon, Arden spotted movement—Lieutenant Tomahura’s ambush party, the same as the previous day.  Twiggy shook off her exhaustion and crouched behind a small bluff with the rest of the group.

“So the murder-slave goes first, then Mena and I…” Kormick whispered, coiling his muscles for an ambush.  “Tavi, you take up the—”

“I have another way,” Nyoko interjected.  “Wait here.”  Kormick stayed coiled, but stayed still.

“Hail, Lieutenant Commander Tomahura Anaya-san!”  Nyoko announced, striding out. “I am Nyoko, Adept of Cauldron.”

Tomahura jumped in surprise.  Then she looked confused.  “An Adept?  …From Cauldron?”  Clearly, Nyoko was not what Tomahura expected.  “You are far from home,” she observed.

“I and my company are here to find you,” Nyoko explained.  “To learn of your progress and share the Witness of Adept Wazani.  And I bear an urgent message for the Grand Marshal.”

Tomahura gave a small bow.  “Welcome to this corner of the Ketkath.  What is your message?”

“I’m afraid it’s for the ears of the Grand Marshal himself,” Nyoko insisted.  

Tomahura hesitated, but nodded.  “Then…I will bring you to our camp.”

“I am not alone,” Nyoko said.  “And if you will permit me to make a strange request, I wish safe passage for my friends.  They may seem unconventional, but I assure you they are allies, and essential to my Witness.”

“You have my word,” Tomahura said, puzzled but agreeable.  “They will not be harmed.”

Kormick slid his warhammer back into his belt.  The party emerged from behind the bluff.  

Tomahura’s group reacted with visible discomfort.  Twiggy heard more than one whisper something about “heathens,” but they held their fire.   

“Well, that went better,” Twiggy whispered to Arden, as the group set out.  

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Arden whispered back.

Together, the party and Tomahura’s troops hiked toward the Sovereigns’ main camp.  “It must feel like you’ve been on the road forever,” Twiggy offered some small talk to one of the soldiers, trying to gauge their knowledge.  

“It’s only been a couple of weeks,” the soldier replied gruffly.  “We’re trained to be away for much longer.”

“Seen any Sheh yet?”  Twiggy changed the subject.

“Nope,” the man replied.  

He’s not much of a conversationalist,  Acorn huffed. 

“What brought you out to where you found us?”  Twiggy asked.  

“Patrol,” he said. “Scouts caught us a Heathen spy.”  

“Wow! Where?”

“Dunno.  Woods, I guess,” the soldier replied.

“And what did this spy look like?”

“You Heathens all look the same to me.  Anyway, I didn’t see him.”

“What did the scouts do with him?”  Twiggy asked.

“How should I know?”  The soldier replied.  Twiggy thought she heard _and why are you asking so many questions?_ in his tone.  It was a tone she’d become accustomed to, over the years.  She quit the interrogation while she was ahead.  From there, they walked in silence.  

The walk was long.  Hours long, and boring.  Twiggy recited formulae to herself to stay moving.  She played a game of Go in her head.  She counted new species of wildlife. _Eleven.  Twelve._  By the time they reached the main camp, it had been dark for hours.  She was sore everywhere.

Chelesta, it’s huge! And so orderly! Acorn cheered when they arrived at the moonlit garrison. He was right—there were dozens of tents in precise rows, housing probably 500 Sovereign troops.  

_More importantly,_ Twiggy thought, _we get to sit down._  The group was ushered into a tent with a woven mat on the ground and a low table in its center.  Twiggy sat on the mat with relief.  Tomahura left to tell the expedition’s Grand Marshal of their arrival, leaving armed guards outside the tent.  Twiggy wasn’t sure whether the guards were there to keep them in, or others out, but she was too tired to give it much thought.  _It must be almost midnight_, Twiggy thought, _and we didn’t sleep at all last night . . ._

Suddenly, the earth shuddered.  A guard screamed.  And a massive explosion rocked the tent.


----------



## Falkus

Spooky! I like it, I'm going to have to remember that and make use of it


----------



## Fajitas

Thanks, Falkus.  Had a lot of fun with this one.


----------



## ellinor

Thanks, Falkus!  Yes, spooky is right.  Here we are, trying to closely-time our exploration in the wilderness so we get back to Divine Mark in time to catch the Lord High Regent's final words, and we have *no idea* what's happening with time.  

Glad you're enjoying it!


----------



## StevenAC

ellinor said:


> Here we are, trying to closely-time our exploration in the wilderness so we get back to Divine Mark in time to catch the Lord High Regent's final words, and we have *no idea* what's happening with time.



What a rat-bastardly DM move.  I love it.  

Also, I've now finally updated the collected Story Hour, taking the story up to the end of session 35.  Enjoy another 50 pages of Sovereign goodness...


----------



## ellinor

Many thanks, StevenAC!  We really, really appreciate your compilation efforts.


----------



## Fajitas

ellinor said:


> Many thanks, StevenAC!  We really, really appreciate your compilation efforts.



Indeed, StevenAC, you have no idea how valuable those compilations have become.  You'll start to have an inkling in about 24 Sessions, though... 

'scuse me.  I'm off to do some reading before tomorrow's game.


----------



## StevenAC

Fajitas said:


> Indeed, StevenAC, you have no idea how valuable those compilations have become.  You'll start to have an inkling in about 24 Sessions, though...



I'm intrigued.  And I can't wait to find out whether I've helped our heroes or inadvertently made life more... _interesting_... for them. 

I am delighted to hear, though, that there's so much more Halmae goodness to come.


----------



## Ilex

StevenAC said:


> I'm intrigued.  And I can't wait to find out whether I've helped our heroes or inadvertently made life more... _interesting_... for them.




You have done both. Fajitas is not the only one... er... researching in the archives these days, although he may be the instigator. And it is REALLY AMAZING AND DELIGHTFUL to have those archives in searchable PDF form!  THANK YOU!


----------



## ellinor

37x01

The walls of the tent shuddered.  The tent flap flew open with a massive blast of hot air, stones, and dirt.  Twiggy heard shouts and screams outside.  _No sleep after all,_ she thought, and rubbed her eyes awake.  

Kormick leaned out of the tent and addressed one of the guards. “So, next time an Adept tells you she has an urgent message for your commanding officer—OW!”    

Kormick jumped back inside the tent.  There was blood on his face.  “It’s the guard’s blood,” he said, as he wiped his face clean with his sleeve. “It is *really* not good out there.”

“Not so good in here, either,” Tavi said, as something tore a gash in the side of the tent.

“These prisoners want to see the Grand Marshal?” asked a young-sounding voice from outside.    

“So they say,” replied the remaining guard.  "But we cannot allow that.  They could be behind this attack.  They could be _spies._  Or worse.”

“Worse?  Nature itself is attacking us,” said the young man as he pulled the tent flap open.  His hair was neatly cropped and he wore the uniform of some sort of military clerk.  “You!  Heathens!”  He said.  “What is your business in this garrison?”  

“We would be happy to answer your questions,” Tavi said, “But this is not the time or place.  We need to speak with the Grand Marshal.  We wish you no harm.”

“And it’s not as if holding us in a tent is keeping things particularly safe,” Kormick pointed out.  A shower of rocks pounded the torn canvas wall.  A sharp stone flew through a gash in the tent, barely missing the young Sovereign clerk’s face.  

The young man flinched and then sucked down a huge breath, as if holding it in would stop the world from ending.  It didn’t.  “I suppose it can’t make things any worse,” he sighed.  He waved the group out of the tent and pointed toward the middle of the encampment.  “The Grand Marshal’s tent is this way.”

Twiggy grasped her orb and ran with the rest of the group, dodging hazards as they went.  The entire camp was in chaos.  Enormous balls of flame erupted in what seemed like random spots, setting tents and soldiers ablaze.  A few feet away, the earth seemed to open and swallow a guard whole.  Twiggy ran through her combat catalogue.  She was the one who _made_ balls of fire and holes in the ground, not the one who faced them.  If another spellcaster was making them, she could attack that person . . . but as she tried to follow the magic with her mind, it fizzled out.  It was too far away.  It must be coming from somewhere outside the camp.  Attacking from a distance would take an immense amount of power.  And there was nothing they could do to stop it.  They could barely even defend themselves.  

Twiggy felt helpless.  And more desperate than ever for answers.   

Barbed vines sprang from the ground and whipped along the ground.  One caught Tavi’s foot.  He slashed himself free with his sword and continued running.  The guard had been right.  It was as if nature itself was attacking them.

“Where is Adept Wazani?”  Nyoko asked as they ran.

“With the Lord Marshal, probably,” replied the young functionary.  A clot of dirt and rocks hit him in the neck and he yowled in pain.  “Or with the Prime Inquisitor.  That’s the next tent over.”

Another crash sounded behind them. Twiggy turned to look.  The tent they’d been inside a moment ago was engulfed in flame.  

A swarm of birds and bats dove at the group, clawing, scratching at Tavi and Kormick.  One caught Arden’s hair in its talons. Arden winced and grasped her head as a lock of red flew away.  A bear—larger than Twiggy’d imagined bears could be, even in the Ketkath, appeared as if from nowhere.  Its black, shiny fur glistened in the moonlight.  It might even have been beautiful if not for—wow, those claws were huge.  

An enormous paw swung by, missing Twiggy’s head by inches. It RAKED Nyoko and Arden.  Twiggy winced in sympathetic pain.  Blood soaked through the back of Arden’s cloak.  

They’d barely gotten 30 feet.  It was going to be a long way to the Grand Marshal’s tent.  _Which might not even be there by the time we_—Twiggy tripped.  A hole had opened beneath her.  

Suddenly, everything was black. Twiggy opened her mouth to gasp for breath, but there was no air. Only dirt.  Dirt in her nose.  Dirt in her mouth.  Dirt in her eyes.  

THUMP.  A dampened noise from above.  Twiggy couldn’t move.  She had to telepor--

And then she could breathe.  She was lying on the ground, next to where the hole had opened.  She hadn’t had time to activate her _fey step,_ but something in her subconscious had activated the teleportation powers of the magical cloak she’d been given.  She gulped a deep breath.  Her lungs burned.  Mena helped her scrabble to her feet, and together they ran.  

In the seconds she’d been under, Tavi, Kormick, and Nyoko had run ahead of the others, and were batting at swarms of birds and bats.  They were covered in scratches and scrapes.  Tavi was bleeding visibly.  A blast of fire erupted behind them, a blessing and a curse—it drove off the swarm, but set Kormick and Nyoko’s clothes aflame.  

The ground in front of Twiggy and Mena erupted.  Rocks and dirt flew everywhere.  A sharp rock hit Mena in the face, opening a gash under her eye.  She stopped.  But just behind them was that enormous bear, lumbering forward, slashing.  Savina said a prayer, and a shaft of light seemed to pierce the bear.  It roared and reared back, but not before raking Arden with its claws once more.  Arden staggered forward.  She was very, very hurt.  

Kormick fell back to help Rose and Savina, but suddenly a yellow cloud appeared around them.  They grasped at their throats, choking, coughing.  It looked like some sort of pollen, Twiggy thought, but there was no flower nearby to release it.  Kormick hacked up a handful of phlegm and spores.  

“Go!”  he croaked, and pulled a _tanglefoot bag_ from his belt.  He threw it at the bear.  Wonder of wonders, it worked—the bear stumbled comically and fell on its side—but the group couldn’t get very far from its reach.  Tavi and Nyoko were ahead of the group, batting at vines and roots and picking off swarms, respectively. Arden was stumbling along root-choked ground. Rose and Savina were coughing like mad.  Mena could barely see.  “I’ve got you, Dame Mena,” Kormick said, and clapped his arm around her back.  

Twiggy surged ahead toward Tavi and Nyoko.  It had taken less a minute for nature to nearly destroy their group.  Twiggy felt a combination of despair and desperation.  Something was happening with time.  The previous day, they’d been sent back to their camp right about now.  If that didn’t happen again tonight, they’d probably all die.  And Twiggy _really_ didn’t want to die before she got those answers.  If they could just reach that tent …

###

Tavi burst into the tent.  For a split second, he felt like he’d reached safety—before remembering that the tent’s fabric walls were utterly useless against the onslaught.  He wished he had time.  But he knew he didn’t.  Twiggy ran into the tent just behind him, breathing heavily.  Tavi composed himself. Before them stood a man in exquisite Sovereign military armor.  The Grand Marshal, no doubt.  He was flanked by two soldiers with halberds.  The man’s katana was raised defensively.

Tavi began. “I—”

The Grand Marshal swung his katana. A flash of light sprang from its blade, slicing Tavi’s cloak.  Twiggy took a step backward.  One of the guards shoved her out of the tent.  This was not how Tavi wanted things to go.  Not at all.

“I am not your enemy!”  Tavi yelled, more energetically than he’d planned.  He kneeled, stabbed his sword into the ground, held up his wakizashi, and calmed his voice.  “I am here to find out what’s happening and to provide what aid I may.”

The Grand Marshal lowered his katana, but did not sheathe it.

“You are a heathen spy.  We have captured your confederate.  You are behind this.”

“No,” Tavi said.  “I have no idea who you’ve captured, but whoever it is, he is not my confererate.  I and my friends, including an Adept, have come from Divine Mark to learn what became of your expedition.”

_Nyoko should be in here,_ Tavi thought.  _She was right behind me a second ago.  Why isn’t she in here?_

“What has become of this expedition,” said the Grand Marshal, “demands my full attention.  Whatever it is, we cannot remain in this camp.  You said you’re here to provide aid.  Are you any good with that sword?”

###

“I’ve got you.”  Mena felt Kormick’s arms pulling her up from behind.  She wiped her eye.  It hurt.  Everything was blurry, clouded red from blood.  A swarm of birds whooshed by.  Kormick let go of her to deal with them.  Tavi and Twiggy were a few yards ahead.  Nyoko was—

A sinkhole opened just in front of her.  Right where Nyoko was.  Nyoko flailed for balance, and almost managed to dance atop the dirt, but gravity took over.  She fell in and was engulfed up to her chest.  Dirt and rocks closed in around her, as if they had a will of their own.  As if they wanted to squeeze the breath from Nyoko’s lungs.  “Help!” Nyoko let out a strangled cry, and then her chin dropped.  She was unconscious.  

Arden crawled toward the hole as if to help, but she had already lost too much blood.  She fell limp before even reaching Nyoko’s hands.

Mena tried to help both, but realized that Nyoko’s situation was more urgent.  Arden was losing blood, but in a moment, Nyoko would suffocate to death.  Kormick grabbed Nyoko under the arms and pulled, but the ground was soft beneath him.  Mena steadied him as he tried a second time, and together they got Nyoko out of the ground.  She was barely breathing.  “Come on!”  Mena yelled in exasperation.  “Wake up!”   She shook Nyoko’s shoulders and called upon her _inspiring word._.  “We pulled you out of the ground, what more do you want?”  Nyoko’s eyes blinked open, but she could barely move.

Mena looked ahead to the others.  Twiggy was wrestling with roots just outside the Grand Marshal’s tent.  Rose was cowering as birds pecked at her cloak.  Savina was running toward Arden . . .  

And Arden wasn’t breathing.  

“Retreat!” called an unfamiliar voice.  “Evacuate!”

Kormick was on one knee, gripping a bloody gash in his side.  Mena rushed toward him to help, but a root seized her ankle and held on.  She tried to keep moving but it yanked her backward.  She fell.  She pushed herself up and tried to crawl toward Kormick.  _Just a few more feet . . ._

Suddenly, there were flames everywhere.  Savina screamed.  Mena’s eye throbbed.  Everything was red.  She couldn’t see Kormick.  Her armor was hot.  Her hands were hot.  She was on fire.  

_So this is how it ends,_ she thought.  _On fire, watching all the people I love die in a fire._

She heard crackling.  More fire.

But it wasn’t hot.  She opened her eyes.  They were in their camp from the night before, the spiky grass underfoot, the campfire happily crackling away.  The campfire: a distant cousin of fire.

Arden was on the ground beside her.  She opened her eyes and muttered something.  “The 
Justicar.  The Justicar…”  She was alive.  Breathing.

Kormick was kneeling, looking down at Mena’s face.  Mena sat up, grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulled his face close, and kissed him, hard.  His lips were salty.

“The next one you earn,” she said.


----------



## ellinor

*37x02*

*37x02*

Excerpt from the notebook of Jan Kormick:



> …she really is a remarkable woman, Dame Mena.  Remarkable.
> 
> The notebook leaf I’d left under a rock at camp the previous night had disappeared when we reappeared there.  As I see it, this means one of two things.  Either the beasts of this area have developed a taste for inked parchment, or we had, indeed, been transported to a time before I placed the paper there.  We have entered our own histories at precisely the same moment each night. Twiggy points out that this should not work; if we were truly sent back in time, she thinks, we would encounter earlier iterations of ourselves, and little crowds of us would accumulate. Twiggy seems quite positive of this, citing the publications of various Kettenite tomes about the orderly progress of time and the impossibility of time travel.  Be that as it may, we were returned there again, by all indications about to embark on the same day for the third time.  I’m content to call it a “time loop” and see what we can do about getting out of it.
> 
> The attack on the Sovereign camp remains a mystery, as does the identity of the “heathen” they claim to have captured.  It is impossible, say Savina, Twiggy, and Tavi, that one person acting alone could have created the sort of massive occurrence as the attack on the camp.  The Ketkath has proven to be a formidable opponent, but it is inconceivable that the land itself is responsible for such grand coordinated attack.  It’s more likely, we think, that the Sheh learned of the Sovereign expedition and issued a preemptive strike.  We assume the Sheh must have launched their attack from somewhere outside the Sovereign camp, although from where, we do not know.
> 
> Since we now know where the Sovereign garrison is located, we decided not to wait for the patrol to take us, but to head directly there at speed, so as to arrive well before the mess begins just before midnight.  We set out on a more direct route than previous, through a gully of loose stones, which I took rump over teakettle.  Dame Mena smirked at my natural grace.
> 
> We spotted an interesting marking along what may have been a foot trail that we crossed on the way.  It looked like two squares, one with an open side, and some squiggly lines.  (here, there is a drawing.)  Made by the Sheh, I assume.
> 
> We met Tomahura’s patrol closer to camp this time, and pulled a riff on what we’d done the previous day.  They took us to the same tent, and here we sit, waiting for the authorities to arrive.  If they don’t show up soon, I’m going to go out looking.  I don’t want to be here when the bear arrives.




###

“We have traveled from Divine Mark,” Nyoko explained to the third person that day, a stocky woman who had identified herself as Prime Inquisitor Tsamanu.  The group was in the same tent where they had been held the day before, with the Inquisitor, two guards, and a man whose insignia identified him as a Commander, but who never introduced himself.  Nyoko continued.  “We believe you are in grave danger of imminent attack, possibly from the Sheh.  Has anyone unfamiliar come into your midst recently?”

The Inquisitor gave a meaningful look to Commander beside her.  “You spies know well that someone has,” said the Commander.  “Your friend Clayton.”

_Clayton?_ 

“I am Jan Kormick, a servant of Kettenek in my land.”  Kormick mispronounced Kettenek again.  By now, Nyoko found his idiosyncratic pronunciation endearing.  The Inquisitor found it less so.  Kormick continued undaunted.  “We are telling the truth.  But even if you don’t believe us, what could be the harm of increasing patrols in the area?  If your patrols find Sheh attackers, you’ll know we’re telling the truth, and you’ll be safer.  If they don’t, you’ll confirm your suspicions.  Win win.”

“I will arrange for patrols,” the Commander said, turning to the Inquisitor.  “Get their story.  Gently.”

Nyoko stepped forward to begin relating her Witness, but the Inquisitor stopped her.  “Adept Wazani reported that you may be hiding something.”

Nyoko resented the implication.  “We conversed with Adept Wazani-san for fourteen minutes.  There are, of course, many things about ourselves that we did not tell him.  But I am an Adept.”

“We’ll see what your friends have to say,” said the Inquisitor. She pointed to Savina and Kormick.  “Guards, take these two.  Bring them to separate tents.”   

Everyone in the group stiffened visibly at the idea of being separated from their friends.  Arden stood up.  “It’s my duty to follow her.”  

One of the guards growled.  Savina smiled.  “It’s all right, Arden.  You may stay here.”

“I promise, we will not harm them,” said the Inquisitor.

Mena shook her head and muttered.  “Kormick, if you come back dead, I’ll kill you.”

The group waited, tense and silent.  No one spoke.  After approximately 37 minutes, Adept Wazani entered the tent.   “I have spoken with each of your friends.  There are some discrepancies in their stories that warrant concern.”

Nyoko wondered what sorts of discrepancies rose to the level of “warranting concern” in Adept Wazani’s mind.  Just then, a piercing scream rang out across the camp.  It sounded like Savina.  Everyone in the group rose and rushed toward the tent flap.  The guards lowered their halberds to stop them from leaving.

Things were about to get very bad, very fast.  “I beg you,” Nyoko raised her voice.  “In less than two hours, unless you do something, this camp will be attacked.  It will result in stunning loss of life.  Suspend your questioning of my friends and share custody of my Witness.”

“We promised we would not harm your friends, and we are true to our word.  Guard, go see what’s happening.”  One of the guards left.  The other stood at the ready.  Everyone looked ready to pounce.  Surely they would have, if two seconds later, the guard hadn’t returned with Savina.  She looked unharmed.

“What happened?” asked Rose.  

“I told them everything.  How we were on a mission.  How time seems to be repeating itself.  They kept making me sit there.  I told them that it wasn’t just the lives of 500 soldiers at stake.  That we were doing something important.  They kept making me sit there.  So I screamed.  It worked—they started bringing me back here.  Then this guard hurried me the rest of the way back.”

Mena’s face was a combination of anger and relief.  “You scared us.”

“Hey, someone fetch this guy some water,” came a voice from outside the tent.  The flap opened, and Kormick strode in.  His arm and hand were bloody.  He was missing a finger.  

Mena’s sword was out in a heartbeat.  “What did they do to you?” she demanded, her armor echoing her fury.

“Oh, this?”  Kormick held up his hand.  “I bit it off to prove a point.  About the time loop.”

“You WHAT?” said Mena.

“Either it’s back like nothing happened in a couple of hours,” Kormick grinned, “or I get a new nickname.”

“You are a madman,” said Savina.

Kormick shrugged.  “At any rate, I told them the truth.  We are on a mission, time keeps repeating itself, the lives of their entire camp are at stake…”

Nyoko looked at Adept Wazani.  “That is precisely what Savina told you.  Exactly what discrepancies warranted concern?”  

Nyoko tilted her head ever so slightly to indicate that Adept Wazani’s technique was one she was familiar with: he had questioned the accused conspirators separately to identify discrepancies in their stories, and finding none, had openly accused them of discrepancies to see how they and their friends would respond.  Clearly, Nyoko thought, Adept Wazani had misjudged the party.  She hoped that by exposing his stratagem, she would compel Adept Wazani to recognize her bona fides as an Adept.  They really didn’t have time to continue with this fruitless interrogation—

BOOM.  An explosion rocked the tent.  The earth shuddered.

_That should not have happened yet,_ Nyoko thought.

“Have we been stuck here that long?” asked Tavi.

“No,” replied Nyoko.  “It’s 45 minutes early.”

“Maybe we changed things.  We made them send extra patrols.  Maybe those patrols found—”

Bear claws raked the tent fabric.  “Whatever it is,” said Kormick, “we have to make the best of this.  And there’s a good chance this tent’s going to burst into flame in a minute.  When they brought me for questioning, I saw where they’re keeping the prisoner.  It’s just a couple of tents away from here.”  

They ran, just as before.  Through swarms, sinkholes, debris, spores, roots, fire, and that enormous bear.  Kormick’s foot got tangled in roots and brambles.  Arden cut him free.  Rocks and dirt were flying everywhere.  Tavi and Twiggy each got caught in sinkholes and teleported out of them.  Both were hurt—Tavi quite badly—but both were able to keep running.  Nyoko remarked, not for the first time, how convenient it must be to be able to teleport.

The prisoner’s tent was guarded by two men.  It was obvious that neither wanted to be there.  

Kormick walked right up to one of them. “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?”  He waved his injured hand in front of a guard’s face.  The guard blinked.  POW.  Kormick knocked him out.  The other guard ran away as if he had been looking for an excuse.

They rushed into the tent.  It was empty, but for a man lying flat on his back on a table.  He was lying still, staring upward, peaceful amidst the chaos outside.  He was in his 20s, with Peninsular features, brown hair, and a reasonably athletic build.  He wore a grey cloak and Peninsular travel clothes in muted colors.  There was a nasty bruise on his temple. It looked like he had been treated roughly.  He didn’t move.  

Then he turned his head and looked at them.  His brow furrowed.  He blinked.  Then he sat up like a shot as he gaped at them.  “Who in the gods’ name are you?”

_Gods, plural_, Nyoko noted.  “I am Nyoko of the Adepts.  And you are not supposed to be here.”

His eyes looked haunted.  “I know.  But—how do I _not_ be here?”  His voice was plaintive.  Desperate.

“What year is it?”  Nyoko asked.  

The man seemed relieved even to hear the question. “It’s the year 390 in the Alliance reckoning.  158 in the Peninsular reckoning.  The Sovereigns would say year 53 of the reign of Rikitaru Nori.”

“16 years ago,” said Nyoko.  “Do you know why the attack came early today?”

The man’s eyes grew even wider.  He leapt to his feet and grabbed Nyoko by the shoulders.  “You remember.  You remember!  You remember!  My name is Aeton.  I have been dying every night for the last 16 years.  And I don’t know what you did, but listen—”

The campfire crackled, its light reflecting off the black, spiky grass of their campsite.  

“See, my finger’s back!” said Kormick.


----------



## SolitonMan

Great storyline!  Thanks for so many frequent posts, it's been nice to check in on them in between rewatching Leverage on Netflix!!


----------



## spyscribe

While we're in a lull between updates, I hope ellinor and Ilex won't mind me popping in with something I found while going through the mass of papers that had accumulated in my gaming bag in the last few years. 

Apparently, when Nyoko first met the party, she started keeping a list of "useful" things she was learning from the party. 

Here are her valuable insights into the heathen mind:

1. Always pay a man you might have to kill. Killing a slave makes you a -heel.
2. "The robes really lull them into a false sense of due process." --Jan
3. Poetry is the key to great strategy.
4. They believe licking is crucial.
5. If something makes the hummingbird nervous, run.

I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA where 3 and 4 came from. 5 is good advice though.


----------



## Falkus

It makes perfect sense to me!

I just realized I've been following this thread for three years now; and I still enjoy the posts as much as I did when I started!

I think I owe myself a reread


----------



## Ilex

What, huh?  It's been four months since we posted anything?  I must've been in a time loop or something… 

Thank you, Falkus, for that generous compliment.  Thank you, spyscribe, for reminding us to watch hummingbirds CLOSELY.

And here comes a NEW UPDATE………!!


----------



## Ilex

*38x01*

*WAKE UP. It’s the new people. Meet us at the northern pass unless you have a better idea. Reply in twenty-five words or less.*

The words burst into Aeton’s sleeping mind like a clanging bell, charging him with adrenaline and sending him leaping to his feet before he fully understood what was happening.

It was dark. He was in the forest. A breeze played fretfully in the invisible treetops.

_It was still dark._ He dodged backward from his campsite to hide in the brush, his heart racing.

_I woke up in time.  Oh, praise the gods, I woke up in time._

—Unless it was a dream. He’d had dreams before, or sometimes hallucinations in the early days before he’d learned how to avoid the worst torture from the Sovereigns, dreams of freedom—dreams of simply _waking up in time_, before they found his campsite and woke him with a kick to the head and dragged him away as their prisoner, every single identical dawn for all these years.

But the _dreams_ of waking in time never came true.  When the time loop reset he was always deeply asleep until the rude awakening, the kick, the capture, the ropes and questions and knives.

Well, if this was a dream, it was a great one, a fantastic wonderful ecstatic one, and he would enjoy it. The novelty alone was like a rich dessert, sweet and almost overwhelming.

The new people had awakened him.  They had to be the people who’d burst into the tent where he was being held just before the battle reached its lethal peak and time invariably reset.  Peninsular people, they’d been, all but one. And now they’d used magic to wake him up—_Reply in twenty-five words or less._

Right.

*Gods bless you, and the Lady’s fortune favor you! Will find you as soon as I can. Repeat at noon if I’m not there.*

###

As the party hiked toward the northern pass where they’d arranged to meet Aeton, Twiggy posed the question that Mena was also turning over in her own mind:  “His phrases about ‘the Lady’ are Sedellan, right?  What kind of Sedellan follower gets stuck in a time loop in the Sovereignty?”  As usual, Mena thought, Twiggy was asking an excellent question.

“A confused one?” ventured Kormick.

“I’m sure there are Sedellan sects who might send emissaries to the Sovereignty,” Savina said, “although it’s true an Ehktian Questor or an Alirrian Water Walker would make more sense.” 

“None of them make sense,” Twiggy reminded them.  “He said last night that he’d been here sixteen years.  That’d mean before the Affirmation, so his mere presence was illegal.  Whatever he was doing out here was probably secret.”

“I can think of only a few reasons Sedellans would be travelling into the wilderness of the Sovereignty.  Into Sheh lands,” said Mena.  “And only a few sects who would do it.  One is the Advocates.”

“Who?” asked Savina, frowning.

“Never heard of ‘em,” said Kormick.  “Not that I’m famed for my encyclopedic religious knowledge.”

“It’s no surprise you haven’t,” Mena said.  “The Advocates keep themselves a dim, rumored secret at best.  They are rarely approved of and their actions are rarely legal.”

Mena could feel Arden’s eyes on her, a particular meaning in her gaze, and for good reason. She and Arden had already had a number of private talks about the Advocates, one of whom was a likely player in the complicated mess that was Arden’s history. And “player” was a kind term. “Liar and murderer” was probably more accurate for that particular Advocate.

But back to the present.  The aggravatingly repetitious present. 

Mena offered them the same brief lecture she’d given secretly to Arden not too long ago.  “Sedellus is, among other things, the goddess of change, and the Advocates attempt to create change in the world, usually in the realms of religion, politics, culture.  They divide within themselves into two groups: the West Wind, which generally seeks progressive change, and the East Wind, which seeks regressive change.  Means don’t concern them.  I cannot stress that enough.  They care only about accomplishing the changes they seek, no matter how many laws they break or people they hurt in the process.  Which is why we Defiers often find ourselves hunting them down, and why they need to keep a low profile.”

“What makes you think this man’s an Advocate?” Twiggy asked.

“Because they’ve been known to be active in the Sovereignty. In particular, we have reason to believe the West Wind helped to provoke the Affirmation.”

“How?” asked Nyoko.

Mena cast a wary glance at her, wondering what the Adept’s reaction would be to her next words.  “I should caution, although your first instinct may be to hate the Advocates and expose them—a worthy instinct—it would be prudent not to share what I am about to say next.  The Affirmation is a good thing; to undermine it by publicizing past deeds that cannot be undone should require careful consideration first.”

Everyone nodded but watched Mena with tense concern, including Nyoko—but excepting Arden, who was glaring at the ground as she paced along.

“Do you remember when I told you about the sacrifices made by Rose’s mother and her comrades to the Sedellan angel they’d summoned?  Rose’s mother made the sacrifice of death, which is why we’re here.  But Giovanna’s companion Eva made the sacrifice of deceit—she confessed that she had betrayed the Alirrian monks of Sharpstone to the Inquisition.  It’s how they came to be massacred.  What you did not know is that Eva was working for the Advocates at the time.”

Arden had raised her gaze from the ground—a distant, tight-lipped, cold gaze that peered back across the world to the Peninsula.  “That massacre, as you might recall,” Mena continued, “rightly appalled so many citizens of the Sovereignty that religious toleration finally found the support it needed, and the Lord High Regent declared the Affirmation to be law.  That’s a common Advocate tactic:  generating change through outrage.  It’s possible—likely, even—that the Advocates of the East Wind are involved with the Tide.  Lord Nishi’s Alirrian heresy in the Hillside District reeks of their tactics.  Trying to generate enough outrage about Alirrians to get the Affirmation revoked.” 

 “So you’re saying this man we’re going to meet may have been party to the murder of innocent Alirrians,” Savina said slowly.

“It’s best not to say or assume anything yet,” Mena said. “The poor man has certainly suffered, and I see no reason to accuse him of being an Advocate on top of that until we know more.  And we must explore the topic delicately.”

Kormick grunted agreement. “Not that I don’t enjoy a flying leap into a conclusion now and again, but Dame Mena’s right.  For all we know, he’s just mixing up his religious phrases.  I have some sympathy there.”

“He will have my compassion first,” Savina said.  “But if he was involved in the Sharpstone massacre….” She left the threat hanging.


----------



## Ilex

*38x02*

After a few wrong turns and the dodging of a Sovereign patrol, they arrived at the northern pass and, not long afterward, saw a lonely figure toiling up the hill.  When he saw them, he started running.  Closer, he dumped his pack on the ground and ran faster.

Grinning, he raced straight up to Mena and threw his arms around her.  “I’m starting to think you’re really real!” he declared.

Mena disentangled him gently.  “Clayton?” she asked.  “Or Aeton?”

“Aeton, yes.  I was giving the Sovereigns a false name for a while, just for kicks—anyway I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.  I am so happy.  Sixteen years, and I—is that beef jerky?”  He was looking at Kormick, who’d been munching when he arrived.

Wordless, Kormick held out the jerky.  Aeton seized it, bit deep, and sighed, eyes closed.  “Oh my.  I haven’t had anything like that in—oh my.”

“How did you get caught in the loop?  What were you doing out here?” Twiggy asked.

“Mmmmm.”

“When you’re ready,” Kormick added.

“Mmmm.  Right.  I was with a mining consortium.  Scouting the mountains.  Went ahead of my group, got captured by the Sovereigns, and—started looping.” 

Savina narrowed her eyes at him.  “We mean you no harm.  You can tell us the truth,” she said.

Aeton fell still and stared at the ground.  After a moment, he said, “I’m sorry.  It’s—you have me at a disadvantage.  It’s been a long time since I interacted with anyone without second chances.  Can we say that my business was not my own, and leave it at that?”

Mena knew she wasn’t the only member of their group who found _that_ suspicious.

“It is unfortunate to have secrets among allies,” she said.  “We’re trapped in this loop, too.  We would appreciate a mark of trust.”

Aeton looked unhappy, but said only, “We were looking for something.  We may as well call it a mine.  I volunteered to scout ahead, and got caught.  I think I was the only one in my group who ended up in the loop.”

“All right,” said Kormick, “let’s change the subject—for now.  Tell us, in all this time, have you discovered what’s causing the time loop?  Any ideas about how to escape?”

“I have a theory it was caused by the Sovereign head priest, Father Ozishi,” Aeton said quickly, obviously relieved to be talking about something else.  “I could adjust the time of the attack a little bit by telling the Sovereigns to send out patrols, but the loop always resets a few minutes after they order the priest to fire up the defenses.  I got loose once and shanked him—” Aeton cut a nervous look at Nyoko, seeming to remember that she was Sovereign “—but it still happened.  I guess he has assistants.”

“Who attacks the camp?” asked Tavi.

“The Sheh.  And just a heads-up, they don’t like outsiders.  I escaped and made my way to them once.  At least that was a _quick_ death.”

He paused, remembering.  Then he shook it off.  “Your turn,” he said.  “What brings you out here?”

“We’ve been following the trail of the lost Expedition,” said Savina.

“We’re looking for remnants of the Sheh, too,” added Twiggy.

“Research purposes,” Mena said firmly, hoping to cut off further explanations.  Twiggy and Savina were being sensible by not saying _everything_, but if Aeton could be cagey, so could she.  “Is there any idea you had for escaping the time loop that you gave up on because you were alone?”

Aeton nodded slowly, his attention caught by the question.  “Maybe… if we could stop the priest from setting up the defenses…  Not in a sacrilegious way, you understand.”  He directed this last comment to Nyoko.

“I, too, support the goal of ending the time loop,” Nyoko said.  “You need not fear me.  Though I might propose that we first try options other than killing priests.” 

It was too late in the day to reach the Sovereign encampment before the loop reset, so they consulted their maps and settled on a better spot to meet the following morning.  Aeton needed a great deal of reassurance that they would wake him up again.  “As many times as it takes,” Savina told him.  “We will not leave you here to suffer.”

She was obviously warming to the man.  Mena felt herself warming to him, as well.  Aeton was surprisingly open, curious, and even friendly for a man who had endured the same torture-filled day over and over for sixteen years.  The world was fresh to him—he greeted every sight and voice and taste with childlike delight.  And yet he was also shot through with a deep, haunted understanding of cruelty and hopelessness.  It was difficult not to want to believe in him, to help him. 

But _sixteen years_, he’d said… meaning he’d become trapped around the time of Rose’s birth.  Mena wanted to believe that was a coincidence, a little joking twist of fate from the goddess of fortune… but Aeton wouldn’t tell them why he’d come here. 

For the rest of the afternoon, they meandered in the general direction of the Sovereign encampment, giving Twiggy a chance to search for more of the mysterious trail markings she had begun to notice here and there. 

Indeed, as the sun neared the horizon, she discovered first one rock, then another, carved with particular markings—especially squares—that seemed to indicate a trail.  If it was a trail, it led in the direction of the encampment. 

Mena noticed, then, that Arden and Aeton had dropped to the back of the group, well out of earshot, and were speaking intensely. 

Mena wondered what that was about.  At the same time, she was curious about the rock markers.  The number of lines forming the squares grew fewer with each successive marker, as if they were counting down.  Were they indications of distance? 

“Getting closer,” said Twiggy.

Arden and Aeton’s conversation broke up around the time that Twiggy found the next trail marker.  Mena helped her copy it into their growing collection of odd Sheh symbols.

A few minutes later Arden drifted casually over to Mena, offered her a fresh skin of water, and murmured, “_He knows about Rose._”


----------



## ellinor

*Some Brief Observations Upon the Sheh Symbography*

You may have noticed that that last update contained some links to a blog called "Some Brief Observations Upon the Sheh Symbography."  That probably bears some explanation.  So here goes:

One of the more awesome and ambitious (or, if you'd prefer, crazy) things that Fajitas has done as part of the Rose in the Wind game has been to invent an entire symbolic language.

Yeah. 

As you can see from this first introduction in the story, the existence of the language unfolded slowly over the course of gaming.  (We actually got one clue way back as we were entering formerly-Sheh territory, many sessions before this one, but we had no idea what we were looking at, then.)  Starting in session 38, Fajitas would occasionally hand us an index card with some symbols on it.  At first, we perhaps assumed that Fajitas was merely providing Ketkath-y local color.  But based on the gradual accretion of information, the truth eventually sank in, and we gradually began to understand that the symbols were part of a coherent language.  And over time, we realized that he'd not only made a language (again, wow), but he'd made one that we would need to learn to understand and even communicate in, in order to solve the problems the party was facing.  

We really wanted to give you a sense of how that worked and what it felt like, and give you an opportunity to enjoy the puzzle as we did.  In fact, as it was happening, one of our big questions was "how in the world are we going to be able to include this symbol-based language in the story hour?!"  We finally figured that the best way to do it was to have a companion blog where we'd show the pictures that Fajitas gave us, and whenever a piece of the language appears in the story hour, we'll link to the blog so you can see the same hints that Fajitas gave us at the pace he gave them to us. 

We hope you enjoy the puzzle as much as we did.  If you don't want to, never fear, we'll explain what the party figured out at the pace the party did as we tell the story.  But if you want to try your hand at the same partial-information clues we had, we'll post them there so you can play around with it. 

Feel free to discuss your theories in the comments over on the blog! We'll join in the discussion if you'd like.


----------



## Ilex

*38x03*

Arden saw her chance as the rest of the group grew distracted by the symbols they had found. Aeton was clearly enjoying his first taste of freedom in sixteen years (_twice as long as I’ve been a slave, and never a new day_) and was strolling at the back of the pack, eyes bounding happily around the scenery.

Arden was sorry to interrupt him.  But he might be an Advocate…

She steeled herself, slowed her steps, and walked silently beside him for a moment.  Then she spoke.

“I’m thinking we may have similar secrets,” she said. She’d decided that the best way to learn if he belonged to the Advocates was to insinuate that she did, too.

He raised an eyebrow but stayed silent. Damn. It was hard to bluff someone who made you do all the work.

“I’m wondering which way the wind blows you,” she tried.  The Advocates split themselves into two sects, the East Wind and the West.  Watching him closely, she was sure she saw understanding in his eyes, but “You’re not the same as the rest of your friends,” was all he said, making the statement into a faint question.

“I’m not,” she said. “And they don’t know that. I’m trusting you, now.”

“Risky,” he said. “You answer some questions for me, maybe I’ll answer some for you. What can you tell me about the young nobleman… and his sister?”

A chill raced down Arden’s spine. He was trying to be noncommittal, but urgency was clear underneath. He was asking about Rose. A Sedellan who’d been on a secret mission sixteen years ago to these distant lands—home of the Sheh with their prophecy about girl babies—was asking about Rose.  It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Very little,” she said, shrugging. “They’re children of a Pol Hennan noble family which operates a lot of teleport networks—”

He interrupted her. “Who are their parents, exactly? Who is their mother?”

“You don’t need me for that,” Arden answered. “Ask them. Or when you’re back in the Peninsula, go to Pol Henna and look up the whole family tree. Why do you want to know?”

“Is their mother an Ehktian?”

“Why?”

“It’s not your turn to ask questions yet.”

“I’m making it my turn. Why do you care?  Do you know her?” Arden tumbled the possibilities around in her head.  Aeton had been here sixteen years.  If he had been an Advocate before that, he could have worked with Eva.  Could Eva and the Advocates have turned their attention to the Sacrifice of Death?  Certainly they would know about it, because Eva had been there at the start…

“Sorry,” Aeton said. “But you haven’t answered my perfectly harmless questions about your companions yet. The girl Rose… is it just me, or is her hair a strange color?”

“It’s a fashion,” Arden said. “Silly but expensive.”

“She’s an interesting girl. Why are you all out here? Why is _she_ out here?” Arden knew she’d better wrap this conversation up soon; she wasn’t getting anywhere useful, and this ice was too thin.

“Listen,” she said, one last try. “For all I know, you and I are out here for the same reasons, and we should talk about all of that, but I can’t say anything more about my mission until I’m sure about yours.”

“_If_ I belonged to whatever secret group you’re insinuating I belong to,” Aeton said, a twinkle in his eye, “don’t you think there’d be a password I would have expected to hear by now? You know any passwords?”

“Sixteen years, maybe the passwords have changed,” she tried, allowing her real impatience to show in her voice.

“Or maybe there aren’t any passwords because I have nothing to hide.”

Arden sighed, defeated. She knew some useful passwords. But not for this conversation. Not for the Advocates. 

“Is this all an act for my benefit,” Aeton asked her then, “or would your companions be surprised to hear that their slave is keeping secrets from them?”

Arden had to smile. “I don’t know if they’d be _surprised_,” she said. “The Justicar’s been waiting for me to poison his soup since we met.” Aeton was shrewd, infuriating, and probably someone she could have been friends with in a different lifetime. “I’ll leave you alone. But—for what it’s worth—what’s happened to you makes me miserable just to imagine, and that’s from someone who was enslaved in the Aegosian mines. I’m sorry you’ve had to go though it.”

“I appreciate that.”

Arden increased her pace a little. Eventually she slipped up beside Mena, shot a glance back to make sure Aeton had stopped watching her and resumed his happy study of the forest and the sky, and then murmured, “He knows about Rose.”

They had no chance to speak further until the time loop reset, which it did on schedule at midnight.  They saw flashes of light in the distance, from the battle at the encampment.  Savina reassured Aeton once more that they would _absolutely_ awaken him in time, and then he vanished—and they were back at their campsite of the night before.

Mena barely skipped a beat.  “Pay attention, everyone.  Arden has bad news.”

Arden described her conversation with Aeton, watching everyone’s face grow grimmer. 

“Is he an immediate threat?” demanded Tavi.

“I don’t think so, Signor,” Arden said.  “He was very curious about her, but he didn’t strike me as scared or angry or planning something.  Then again, I’m pretty sure he’s an Advocate.  And that means we can’t trust him.”

“We need him, for now,” pointed out Twiggy.  “He knows everything about the Sovereign encampment, especially where that priest is.”

“And I don’t sense malice in him,” added Savina. “I’m not saying we should trust him, but I don’t believe he would hurt Rose.”  She smiled at her friend.  Rose attempted to smile back, a little weakly.  Arden felt bad for her.  It couldn’t be pleasant to hear yourself discussed as a possible target.

“We will remain on guard,” said Mena. 

“And, if he screams ‘_I am the Agent of Destruction, ARRGGGGH!_’ and leaps in Rose’s direction, we kill him, yes?” asked Kormick.

“Instantly,” said Tavi.


----------



## Ilex

*38x04*

*Good morning!  Meet you in the assigned spot?*

*Lady be praised.  Thank you!  I’m on my way.*

### 

After meeting up with Aeton that morning, the party agreed that another day spent in reconnaissance couldn’t hurt.  After all, they had as many days as they wanted.  Twiggy, in particular, was eager to hunt down more of the mysterious trail markings, which she was increasingly sure must be Sheh.  She felt glad that the others were willing to give her the time for more research.  After all, one of their major goals on this journey was to learn more about the Sheh.  Furthermore, the time loop seemed triggered by the Sheh attack on the Sovereign camp.  Learning their ways might be a key to escaping the loop.

Kormick and Nyoko decided to hike to the Sovereign encampment to investigate the high priest, whose actions in defense of the camp Aeton believed to be directly linked to the loop.  Sending the two off alone seemed risky, but, as Kormick pointed out, everything would reset at midnight even if they died horribly. 

And so Twiggy found herself leading the rest of the group through the forest, following the trail she’d discovered the previous day.  As it crossed a small stream, Twiggy spotted an elaborate set of markings on a rock.  One reminded Twiggy of a mark she’d seen before near a different water source—did it mean “water”? Another suggested that a second trail branched off from the first, climbing up a slope.  Twiggy and Mena decided to explore that branch, because the first trail was continuing to lead them ever closer to the Sovereign encampment.  Aeton, perhaps not surprisingly, was pleased about the detour.

At the top of the slope, the trail ended at the entrance to a small cave.  It was dark inside, with the sound of dripping water. 

Oh no, groaned Acorn in Twiggy’s mind.

“Oh yes,” she told him.

But it’s dark and dank and dirty.  Can’t we send the slave, Chelesta?

“Her name is _Arden_, and you know very well that she hates caves,” Twiggy said.  “Be brave.”

As they stepped inside and Twiggy cast _light_, they could see that the cave was not deep: a short passage opened quickly into a large, single chamber.  A dusty pile of firewood was stacked next to a long-cold firepit, and a rotting pair of fur cloaks lay in a corner. 

Arden, Twiggy noticed, seemed happy to linger nearer the entrance, where a shaft of sunlight fell warmly on the stone walls.

“No footprints, nothing’s been disturbed,” said Mena.  “I’d imagine no one has been here for at least fifty years.  Maybe more.”

Twiggy scanned the room once more, disappointed not to find any more revealing clues about the Sheh. 

“This might be something,” said Arden suddenly, brushing at the sunlit wall.  “It’s worn away, but it gets clearer…”  She brushed more dust and cobwebs off the wall, stepping deeper into the cave.  Twiggy hurried over.  There were markings drawn on the wall:  a huge collection of cryptic symbols.

They cleared it off carefully, then everyone stepped back and studied it.

“It’s a map,” Twiggy declared.  “See this line of symbols?  They must mean 'water,' like we thought—that’s the stream we just crossed down the hill. It’s a map of this exact region.”  She was delighted.  The mark in the spot they seemed to be standing must mean “cave.”  They could correlate the other markings to the land’s features to learn more Sheh writing.  This map was a major find.

Mena felt the same way. The two of them got to work at once, copying down markings, debating their meanings, beginning to build a glossary of Sheh symbols.  It reminded Twiggy of her best days in Mena’s schoolroom, the two of them working as a team on some difficult logical problem. 

Savina helped for a while and then disappeared to bathe in one of the stream’s quiet pools.  Aeton set off to explore the nearby forest; Tavi and Rose meandered in the opposite direction.  And Arden stripped off her gear, weapons, and boots before lying down in the sunny grass outside the cave’s mouth, falling asleep in an attitude of graceful relaxation that would have befitted an Ebisite sultana dozing under a gold-fretted trellis. 

It was a good day.

### 

Kormick clutched a rag to the bloody stump where his finger had been and raised an eyebrow at Marshal Tomahura and the Chief Inquisitor. 

“I will… send out additional patrols,” said the Marshal, staring.

Nyoko couldn’t help staring a little, too.  She had been aware that Kormick was prepared to repeat his … unorthodox gesture … to convince the Sovereign leaders that their story of the time loop was real, but it was another thing to Witness him doing it as the climax to hours of attempted persuasion.  She wrenched her attention away.

“Additional patrols will not be enough,” she told the Marshal.  “We have reason to believe that the defenses set by your High Priest are implicated in the problem.”

The Marshal looked puzzled.  “We have magical defenses, of course,” he said, “but nothing that affects time.”

“Can the Priest be trusted?” asked Kormick. 

The Marshal’s look of offended disdain was answer enough, and Nyoko stepped in quickly.  “We do not question his loyalty,” she said. “But given that our Lord Kettenek makes all our magic possible, and even our best scholars cannot hope to understand all of His laws, perhaps something unexpected has occurred—”

With a flash of light followed instantly by a crash of thunder that shook the earth beneath them, the attack began.

It was a strange thing, Nyoko reflected, to find herself under assault, yet wanting to roll her eyes rather than seize her bow. 

“Here we go again,” sighed Kormick.

“TO THE DEFENSES!” roared the Marshal, racing out of the tent.

“We must follow the—” Nyoko began.

“Find the Priest, yes yes,” said Kormick. 

They followed the Marshal out of the tent, then followed the messenger he sent racing across the encampment with orders for High Priest Ozishi. 

After a hard sprint, dodging the chaos as Sovereigns dove for their weapons, they approached a large tent decorated with Kettenite holy symbols.  A guard, her eyes wide, lunged at Kormick and grabbed his arm.  “No heathens permitted!” she yelled.

Nyoko didn’t wait to see how _that_ played out.  She dodged around and ran into the tent. 

Inside was a warm den of seeming safety: candles flickered, illuminating the priest who knelt at the center of a carefully crafted ritual circle, praying.  Nyoko instantly catalogued the symbols and ritual artifacts incorporated into the circle so she could recall them later.  The messenger, beside Nyoko, looked uncertain about interrupting. 

“Father—?” the messenger began, but the priest ignored him.

“Kettenek, Holy Father, Strong Arm, Defender, keep us safe.  Preserve us upon this day—”

The ground beneath the priest simply opened up like a mouth, swallowed him and half of his circle, and closed again.

He was gone, beneath the earth, in one of the gulping holes that had plagued the party the first time they endured this battle.

“Wake up.  Let me see your hands,” Mena barked.  Nyoko blinked.  She was back at their campsite, and Mena was striding up to Kormick, who groggily sat up from his bedroll. 

Mena knelt and looked at his fingers carefully, then at him. 

“All ten,” Kormick said.  “And if a man can’t even cut off his own finger to make a point—”

Mena sighed.  “Just don’t do when it counts, dear.”


----------



## Rughat

One of these days they'll figure out the answer, and Kormick will end up with only 9 fingers.


----------



## babomb

♪Then put your little hand in mine
There ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb,
Babe.
I got you, babe.♪


----------



## ellinor

...and having nine fingers would be inconvenient, to be sure, but I bet in Kormick's mind, getting the nickname "nine fingers" might _almost_ make up for it.  

New update in a moment!


----------



## ellinor

*39x01*

Wind rustled the exact same black, spiky grass.  In exactly the same way.

Tavi yawned as Kormick poked him awake.  _You’d think the wind would get tired of it_, Tavi thought.  But he heard the voice of Mena’s lessons in his head: _ the wind never tires_.

Tavi was frustrated,  He was ready to be done with the time loop and back to the work of the prophecy.  This trip was about Rose, and the time loop was an impediment.  Worse, an impediment they didn’t know how to get out of.  Tavi peeled away his bedroll, stretched, and began his morning forms.

They sent their ordinary morning sending to Aeton, asking him to meet them at the cave they’d found in the previous loop, and received Aeton’s ordinary gratitude for waking him.  _If *I’m* ready to be done with this,_ Tavi thought, _imagine how Aeton feels._

Before setting out for the cave, the party ate breakfast and discussed what they’d learned in the previous loop.  Tavi described the cave with its strange markings, and Nyoko described the Sovereign priest’s ritual circle and prayer.  With some prompting from Twiggy, in fact, she closed her eyes and described it in painfully precise detail.  _When those two get going_, Tavi thought, _life gets awfully detailed_.

“Could this time loop have been caused by some irregularity in the priest’s prayer?”  Savina asked.  “Like the fact that his ritual discharged early?”

“Word choice can be important,” Twiggy said, “and sometimes getting cut off in the middle of a ritual can have unpredictable results—but this is well beyond ‘unpredictable.’”  

_That’s an understatement._  “There was a lot of Sheh magic in the air,” Tavi pointed out.  “And Sovereign magic as well. Maybe they interacted strangely.  Especially since Sheh magic is a strange combination of divine and arcane.” 

“What would have interacted?”  Savina asked.  “There were bears, and sinkholes, and swarms, and fires, and spores, and vines—”

“But none of those things have to do with time,” Tavi jumped in.

“Wait,” Mena said.  “That’s right.  Sinkholes are earth.  Kettenite.  Bears are earth animals.  Kettenite too.  Vines and spores—plants and pollen—are surely Alirrian.  Swarms are chaotic.  Ehktian. And fires are—” she looked down reflexively at the burn scars on her hands and arms.  “Fires are Ehktian…. The point is, none of them are Sedellan.  And Sedellus is the goddess of change.”

“So there was an absence of change magic?”  Tavi asked.  It was just on the edge of making sense.

“—Yes,” Savina said, as if Tavi’s sentence had resolved the matter.  “All that magic in the air.  The priest saying ‘preserve us upon _this day_.’  And an absence of change magic, as you said.  Together, they meant the priest’s prayer preserved that day.  The same day, preserved over and over again, without change.”  

Twiggy got that far away look she got when she was running equations in her head.

“So what you’re saying is that to stop the time loop, all we have to do is get to the fight and add some change magic,” Kormick said.  “Easy peasy.” 

“Probably best to make sure it’s Sheh magic,” Tavi mused.  “Otherwise it could unbalance things in another direction.”

“Right,” Twiggy said, with a nod.  “Step one, figure out how to do Sheh magic.  Step two, figure out how to do Sheh Sedellan magic.  Step three, do it in the middle of a battle.” She said it as if it were actually possible.  Tavi almost believed it.  

###

Excerpt from the notebook of Jan Kormick:


> Savina said the cave looked exactly as it had when they had arrived the previous day, and the dust covering the wall was back, as if they had never disturbed it.  Just like my notebook page at the campsite.
> 
> Aeton has explained that he tried several times—many years ago—to retrace his steps out of the loop, and had always been pulled back to the same camp and the same pre-dawn kick in the head.  He thinks that once someone is inside the loop, everyone they meet joins the loop and stays inside it no matter where they go.  “So when you met Tomahura, you caught it,” he explained.
> 
> “A contagion.  Like a head cold,” Savina observed.  “But of course not curable with herb tea.”
> 
> That would be too easy.  In any case, if they’re right, I’m just glad we didn’t try to teleport back to civilization.  For the record, this stuff involves exactly the sort of brain gymnastics I wanted to avoid on this trip.
> 
> Twiggy immediately fixated on the map on the cave wall.  I have reproduced it here.
> 
> The map clearly represented our surroundings, although what each symbol means remains somewhat of a mystery, despite the ladies’ musings from yesterday, which they elaborated on today.  We traveled to a location marked by two wavy lines crossed by an upside-down Y and a complex symbol involving an X crossed by a wavy line and two smaller wavy lines below.  It was a fishing hole with a waterfall.  Nearby there were some deer hoofprints, and—perhaps coincidentally—an X crossed by a wavy line, with a little diamond below.  The whole time, Twiggy nattered on at Dame Mena about what the symbols might mean, and how the more places on the map we went, the more we might be able to find out.
> 
> We stopped by the fishing hole for a brief lunch.  The fish were plentiful, and to my surprise (considering that we are still in the Ketkath), actually looked and tasted mostly like trout.  After lunch, we continued on to a place where, in Twiggy’s words, “there were so many symbols we couldn’t resist going there.”  The main symbol was a sort of spiral crossed by a wavy line.




###

It was a large cave mouth.  Mena looked over at Arden, whose lips were pressed tight.  Arden didn’t often show discomfort, but Mena understood.  She’d had her fill of caves for the day.  “I’ll see what’s inside,” Mena offered.  Kormick offered to accompany her.  

“No need to go in just yet,” Twiggy said.  She cast _light_ on a small rock and tossed it inside the cave.  It cast a small pool of light, revealing a GIANT blue snout.  The snout hissed.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a dragon,” Kormick said.

The snout inched forward into the light, followed by a huge head, huge eyes, huge mouth—

“It’s a dragon,” Savina confirmed.  

The dragon’s mouth opened and it ROARED.  “Stay back!”  Savina shouted.  “Its breath will burn!”  The pool of light now illuminated its enormous head.  From its mouth came a blast of icy air.  The grass in front of them crackled, frozen.  “Or—I guess—freeze!”  

Twiggy immediately ignited her flaming sphere, and situated it in front of the cave mouth, blocking part of it.  But it was a big cave mouth, and the dragon was far from trapped.   Already Mena could glimpse it shambling around the flame—unwilling to get too close to the fire, but determined to come after them.  They had mere seconds.  Everyone backed away.  Mena pointed Rose to a hiding place to the side of the cave.  Rose darted out of sight.

Aeton clambered up the rocky hillside beside the cliff until he was at the top of the cave mouth.

“What are you planning to do?”  Tavi yelled up to him.  “Jump on it when it comes out?”

Aeton laughed.  “You got it.  What’s the worst that happens?  It kills us?  At least I haven’t died that way *yet*.”

Mena wasn’t ready to watch her friends die, however temporary Aeton said it would be.  She raised her sword and strode to the front of the group.  

Kormick stepped in front of her.  And—the gall of him—he did it _protectively_.  The look he shot her was downright concerned.  For her welfare.  

The look made her stop, reflexively, despite herself.  She didn’t like stopping.  She didn’t even like the look.  She liked even less that it had made her stop.  _Is this going to be a thing?_ Mena thought.  _I can’t run into a cave to attack a dragon because someone cares about me?_

The dragon’s snout nosed beyond the flames.  Then its eyes.  Then its sinuous neck.  

Kormick glanced again at Mena.  This time she caught his eyes and held them.  He held hers right back.  

Then Kormick grinned. “After you, Dame Mena,” he said.  Readying his warhammers, he stepped aside.


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## Neurotic

Too short! Give us the fight!


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## ellinor

*39x02*

Ice exploded from the cave, straight at Mena.  

She ducked, but a sliver grazed her cheek.  It stung, a sharp cold knife just below her eye.  She blinked it back, and suddenly the dragon was right there, coming at her.   As it emerged from the cave, it spread its wings.  They were enormous.  Mena had never seen an animal so big.  

With a giant _swoosh_ of its wings, the dragon flew upward, barely missing Mena as it went.  She jabbed her sword up, a wild attempt to stab it in the underbelly.  _Dragons have soft underbellies, right?_  It worked—she felt the sword break through the dragon’s leathery flesh, but the dragon jerked upward, sliding itself off the blade. Then it dipped down, raking its talons at Mena.  They tore into her shoulder.  For a moment, everything was pain.  Hot pain, this time.

“You. Don’t hurt her.”  Kormick was right behind Mena.  He reached up and grabbed one of the dragon’s scaly legs, and held on.  

_Like in the Sovereign wrestling match,_ Mena thought, _but with warhammers—_ and as the dragon flew higher, Kormick climbed, like climbing a tree, and reached the base of its wing.  He pounded at one of the joints where its wing connected with its massive, blue-green, lizard-like body.  

“Just like a kneecap!”  Kormick bellowed down.  He swung himself underneath the wing, closer to its joint.  

“Hit it again!”  Mena replied.  Kormick did.

The dragon folded its wing and swiped at Kormick, dipping toward the ground in the process.  Mena could see talons on the back of its wing, scratching Kormick, tearing at his cloak.  Kormick dropped to the ground, safe for a moment.    

The dragon roared.  ROARED.  It might have been the loudest sound Mena had ever heard.  Mena reached up to cover her ears, reflexively.  Her ears rang.  She couldn’t concentrate on anything.  

She shook her head, trying to clear the ringing sound, and took stock of what was happening around her.  Everyone, it seemed, was stunned just as she was, shaking their heads and rubbing their ears.   

Everyone except for Aeton, that is.  Aeton was flying.  No, not flying, jumping—leaping, from the top of the cave onto the dragon’s back.  It was a mighty leap, and he landed on the dragon’s neck and grabbed its wing, pulling back.  But the dragon jerked its wing back and Aeton fell to the ground with a thump.  He looked up at Mena, shrugged painfully, and groaned “Nice try?”  Mena nodded in support, but she could tell it had been a tough fall.

She stepped forward to help him up, but had to step back as the dragon reared back again and let loose a blast of icy breath.  More ice knives.  Freezing air and ice crystals ripped the skin of her neck and arms. It was so cold it almost felt hot, so cold she could barely think.  It had hit Aeton and Twiggy, too.

Mena tried to run to them, but she couldn’t.  She couldn’t even move her legs.  They were cold, she realized.  Even colder than the rest of her.  She looked down, and saw ice, wrapped around her feet and legs, holding her to the spot.  Where was Tavi?  Where was _everyone?_

Mena chipped at the ice with her sword, and it loosened.  She pulled one foot free, and flexed it.  It was stiff from the cold, and even just flexing it was painful.  But she felt the warmth of Savina’s healing—Savina must have been behind her—and flexing became easier.  Her other leg was still caught, but now there was hope.  She set to work at the ice.

Mena twisted around in time to see Tavi, stabbing upward between the dragon’s wing and scales.  The dragon flapped its wings, but Tavi ducked.  “That’s it, Tavi!”  Mena yelled, and continued chipping away.  Tavi stabbed upward again, and connected again.  From behind him, Twiggy cast, and the dragon reeled for a moment, pawing at some imaginary enemy.   A flurry of arrows came from behind a scrubby bush—Nyoko’s, although Mena couldn’t see her.  Some of them glanced off, but a few connected, lodging in the dragon’s scales.  The dragon was having trouble staying up, and although it flapped its wings, it dipped low enough for Arden to swing underneath the beast and wedge her dagger between two scales.  Perhaps it was Mena’s imagination, but the dragon almost flinched.  It listed to one side, and touched down to the ground, favoring its injured wing. It had taken everything they had, but they had forced the dragon to the ground.  Maybe they were finally doing some damage.  Mena wanted—needed—to be back in the action.  _Chip.  Chip.  Chip._

Arden’s distraction gave Kormick the chance to clamber forward under the dragon’s wing, straight toward that same wing joint—

Mena tugged against the ice and with a _crack_ her foot came free at last.  She ran forward, every other step a stabbing pain—and ducked beneath the wing—and there was Kormick.  She stabbed upward and pierced the dragon’s hide where its leg met its body.  Kormick swung his hammer at the joint, and it buckled.  “Again!”  Mena said, and twisted her sword deeper.  Kormick complied, and Mena heard a solid crack.  _That wing won’t work the same anymore_ she thought. 

“We should do this more often,” Kormick grinned.

“Maybe not this, exactly,” Mena replied, as she retrieved her sword from the dragon’s hindquarter.  She braced herself against Kormick for another upward stab.  It connected.  _But we do make a good team._

Above her head, the dragon’s muscles tensed.  It was trying to take off again.  Its bad wing folded under, and Mena slashed at its membrane.  She cut clear through, separating wing from bone.  It bled, black ichorous blood.  Tavi extended his flaming sword like a torch, and the membrane began to burn.  _Now it *really* won’t work the same._

The dragon used its other wing to rise from the ground.  It was off-kilter, erratic, and no less frightening for that.  As it rose higher and higher, it spewed icy breath down toward the ground.  Shards tore at Mena again, but Twiggy, Aeton, and Kormick got the worst of it.  Kormick fell forward and ice piled atop him, holding him to the ground as it had done to Mena.  Mena immediately began chipping at the ice, and freed one of Kormick’s hands.  He immediately set about at the rest of the ice with the sharp end of a warhammer.  “Go get ‘im,” he said, as he picked away.

“Over here!”  Mena heard Savina yell.  The dragon heard it too, and whipped around to face Savina.  It was high above their heads now, and poised to dive for another attack of talons and ice.


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## Neurotic

AAaargh! More!

Good work!


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## ellinor

*39x03*

Mena struggled to free herself as the dragon lurched right for Savina.   

Mena was frightened on the girl's behalf--but Savina looked more determined than scared.  She held her holy symbol out in front of her like a weapon, and narrowed her eyes.  “Down,” she commanded.  Blue light radiated from the holy symbol toward the dragon.  

The dragon stopped beating its wing and tumbled to earth with a shuddering thud.  It roared—still loud, but no longer painfully so—and whipped its head down as if to attack Savina.  It caught its neck in its torn and smoldering wing, and yowled in pain from the depths of its throat.  Twiggy was still caught in the ice, but it didn’t stop her from casting, and the beast became even more tangled in itself.  It fell to its side, exposing its belly.  

_It's vulnerable now,_ Mena thought  _Finally._  Nyoko sunk two arrows in its underside and Arden did the same with a dagger.  Twiggy let out a burst of fire, searing the wounds. But somehow the dragon righted itself and charged at Kormick, who was just freeing his last foot from the ice.  

“Look out!”  Mena yelled, but it was too late; the dragon closed its teeth around Kormick’s shoulder, pulled him from the ice, and lifted him from the ground.  With his free hand, Kormick slammed a warhammer at the creature’s jaw.  And slammed again.

“Don’t stop!”  Mena cried out.  

“Yes ma’am!”  Kormick replied, and pounded again.  The dragon dipped its head and let go, dropping Kormick a few feet to the ground.   Kormick clambered to his feet and away from its head, wiping icy dirt from his cloak.  

Blood streamed from the dragon’s eye and jaw.  It lifted itself from the ground again, weak and wobbly but, Mena had no doubt, still dangerous.  Twiggy, still caught in the ice, cast _magic missile_, but that did little harm, and soon the dragon was too high up for any of them to reach it.  

“I’ve got this,” Tavi announced, and he teleported to the top of the cliff and threw his sword.  It lodged in the back of the dragon’s neck and exploded into flame.  

As the sword re-formed in Tavi’s hand, the dragon plummeted to the ground, burnt, bloody, and at long last, dead.

***

Inside the cave, Mena and Twiggy checked the walls for more writing.  There was none.   The cave held only a few animal carcasses and staggering amount of what Mena assumed was dragon dung.  Savina poked a stick at a pile. “I thought dragons were supposed to have hordes of treasure.”

“They’re supposed to be wise, too,” Kormick called in from outside, “but we just beat one to death with hammers and fire.”

They returned outside, where Tavi had built a fire and was roasting hunks of dragon meat.  “How often do you get to eat dragon meat?” he asked Aeton.  

“Haven’t yet,” Aeton replied.  

“Maybe there’s a reason it’s not a delicacy,” Rose said, waving away the smoke.  “It smells terrible.”

“Or maybe,” Tavi smiled, “it’s just that they’re rare and hard to kill.  And we get to say we’ve killed one.”

“How Ehktian of you,” said Rose. 

“If we weren’t so far off the map, I’d say we should put a big red Ehktian X on this spot,” Tavi said.

“A big red Ekhtian X,” Twiggy mused.  “Maybe that’s what the symbol on the map was.”  She pulled out the map she’d copied from the Sheh cave wall.  “There are a bunch of these symbols around the cave.  They’re all a bunch of Xs, really.  An X with slanty lines around it, and a little X with a line above it.  Maybe that symbol means ‘danger.’”

“Hm,” Mena said.  “It’s a more complicated symbol than the others.  But the concept of danger is more complicated than, say, the concept of 'stream' or 'waterfall.'”

“The stream and waterfall both had wavy line symbols,” Savina commented, “and the wavy line reminds me a tiny bit of an Alirrian holy symbol.  So maybe the wavy line means water.”

“The Sheh cave also had wavy lines,” Nyoko observed.  “And there was no water there.”

“That cave was a shelter,” said Savina.  “A place of safety.  And the pond had wavy lines, too, but little ones.  Shelter and water are both Alirrian.  Maybe the wavy lines all denote something Alirrian.” 

“Why not a big set of wavy lines for the pond, then?”  Nyoko asked.

“Maybe the symbol wasn’t just about the pond,” Arden said.  “The pond had fish, too.”

“They were delicious,” Kormick observed.

“They were,” Twiggy continued.  “And if you want to make a useful map, you don’t need to tell people where to find a pond.  You need to tell them where to find food.  So this X with a wavy line must mean ‘animal.’  The map shows the fish—water animals—and over here, where we found the hoofprints, deer.  Earth animals.”

“So the diamond is Kettenite,” Nyoko said.  “Fitting.”

“And the swirl must be Sedellan,” said Mena, stabbing at the roasting dragon meat.  “All those Ehktian Xs surrounding a swirl.  Danger: there be dragons.”

“So there must be a difference between the big symbols and the small ones,” Twiggy said, taking off her glasses to squint at her notes.

“Parts of speech,” Kormick said.  “The big ones are nouns.  The little ones are adjectives.  You basically already said it yourself.”  Everyone turned to stare at him.  He shrugged.   “What, you’re surprised I know basic grammar?”

“Of course not,” Mena said.  It made her wonder all the more about what Kormick was always writing in his little notebook. _Maybe he’s secretly a poet,_ she thought, and chuckled inwardly.

Tavi handed around hunks of charred meat.  Rose took a bite, chewed, and gagged.  In fact that was more or less everyone’s reaction.  Even Aeton lost enthusiasm as he chewed.  Arden was the only one who swallowed hers, and Mena suspected that was only to keep Tavi company.

“So what have we learned?”  Rose asked.  “Dragon tastes terrible after all.”

“Or maybe we just didn’t have the right spices,” Tavi mused.

“Or maybe that we shouldn’t let Tavi prepare the food,” Twiggy smiled.  “At least we’ve made some good progress on the language.”

Kormick shook his head.  “But what good is a language, without any verbs?”


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## StevenAC

I'm loving the slow piecing together of the language -- another really elegant construction from Fajitas, which is also presenting an interesting challenge as I'm assembling the next chapter of the collected Story Hour... 

I'm guessing that the 'triple wavy line' glyph, which appears three times on the map, is actually a composite symbol.  Like the 'animal' symbol (a wavy line combined with the Ehktian X) and the symbol that seems to indicate the dragon (a wavy line combined with the Sedellan spiral -- the whole thing meaning 'hazard', perhaps?), this one is a wavy line combined (or in this case, surmounted) with the _two_ wavy lines that signify Alirria.  If I'm right, this symbol would signify a whole new class of map feature ('plant', perhaps?), that can be modified by adjectives just as the others can (two of the three on the map are Alirrian, the other one is Kettenite).

That only leaves one anomalous symbol -- the small Sedellan spiral at the lower right that has the horizontal line below the spiral rather than above.  I've no idea what this could mean, but I'm sure the party won't be able to resist going over there for much longer...


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## Neurotic

Erm, more [MENTION=14561]ellinor[/MENTION]? Please?


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