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Post by Zula on Jan 17, 2017 15:15:19 GMT
Prologue - II Part 2, Richard.
He sat upon the throne while his servants and subjects looked upon him kneeling and begging for his favor. He decided their fate according to the whims of his mood no matter how they cried or begged, the truth was that he enjoyed being King.
He woke up, screaming and sweating, half naked he sat on the border of the bed, his hands against his face and his elbows over his knees.
He sank deep chunks of air struggling to breathe; meanwhile she swirled in the bed behind him. He just had one of his many nightmares; they stalked him in the night, and the worse was that all specialists had confirmed they were not magical in nature, no one was messing up with him but himself.
‘’ They despise me.’’ He said with his hands towards his face.
‘’Again?’’ A female voice complained from the bed.
‘’Always’’ He attempted to reply, but the swift and familiar pain of a kick over his back threw him out of the bed tumbling and screaming in pain. ‘’You psychotic woman’’ he grumbled while he turned around to see a chair flying in his direction. He focused his mind and saw the chair stood in mid air, completely frozen as if something was holding it in place.
‘’That’s the kind of man that can share a bed with me.’’ She replied standing naked over the bed, her face filled with approval.
‘’Aren’t you overdoing this a bit?’’ He replied while the chair moved in the air assuming its previous position.
‘’Me?’’ She said outraged ‘’I am only trying to catch some sleep while someone keeps waking me up in the middle of night.’’
‘’Fair enough I should not be waking you up in the night.’’
‘’You should not be acting like such a weakling. Worse rulers have been loved by their people, and better rulers were killed by them Richard.’’ She sighed while tried to clear away the drowsiness from her face.
‘’And if it was one of your Atar dammed Mennas nightmare slash fantasies, I swear that I will castrate you.’’ She said yawning.
‘’Excuse me for not enjoying dreaming of being a tyrant.’’ He replied, his voice filled with petty outrage.
‘’You are a Tyrant, wherever you like it or not.’’
‘’I find that insulting, I am not a Tyrant, I am Chairman of a council.’’ He said, the word weighting heavy in his mind and tasting as salt in his mouth. ‘’Yeah, tell me again how you decided to accept the demands of the people out your goodwill and desires to take your subjects opinions into account, and not out of fear to a rebellion after the Proteans left you.’’
‘’That’s one way to put it, yes. But I could have said no, and executed them all.’’
‘’Why you did this or that is beside the point. Richard, seriously I don’t get why you worry that much. Do the people hate you? Maybe? Probably? Why wouldn’t they? But what would they be without you and your followers? Nothing, you are BUILDING this place, it’s your will that made this place what it is today, and what it will be tomorrow.’’ She said jumping down from the bed an sitting besides it. ‘’But who am I to talk? I came here for the gold and the protection from the whisperers, mostly the later.’’
Her words were harsh, she was from the army after all, but at the same time the honesty with which spoke made his back feel lighter.
‘’It reassures me that the point of your speech was to point out your loyalty is guaranteed by gold.’’ He said his voice somber. ‘’I was hoping for something along the lines of, let’s leave this place together and live our lives peacefully away from all this mess.’’
‘’Like if you or I could ever do that Richard. I don’t want to retire, and you couldn’t leave this place even if you tried. Sometimes I wonder what the hell are you doing here. You are fucked up, did you know that?’ She said while moved her legs idly over the edge of the bed. ‘
‘I suppose you do have a point I may be a tyrant but at least when it came to naming I did not name the capital after me.’’
‘’But you did name that city after you undead kobold friend.’’
‘’I did name a city, and maybe a couple of public squares and streets across the nation after my undead kobold friend.’’
‘For Atar’s sake let us get back to bed and sleep.’ She said gesturing towards him to approach her.
He got close to her and embraced her, she was the love of his life. ‘’I love you Iris’’ He tried to say, but only bubbles came out from his mouth.
He opened his eyes to see pieces of wood floating around him, everything dyed with that particular variation of blue only sea water can accomplish. ‘’No.’’ He said as bubbles swarm out of his mouth.
His chest was in pain, he attempted to swim upwards but his left leg was stuck between pieces of a sinking ship. He attempted to teleport out, but he couldn’t speak underwater, he concentrated and tried to teleport silently but it was meaningless, he was exhausted.
He could feel how he sank into the depths of the ocean, how the ship dragged him into the depths.
His fingers clawed away at the wood desperately nails breaking and blood coming out of his finger tips, he could not die, especially not here and not like this.
One final attempt at concentration and suddenly his leg slipped away free. The water no longer weighted him down; he swam as fast as he could as the remains of the ship sank into the depths.
Movement became harder, life began to seep away, just staying awake was hell and he was slowly fading. He wanted to cry, but there was already too much water around, he stretched his arms and pushed upwards with all his energy.
Blighting sunlight, air, wind and the smell of gunpowder and burning wood filled his nostrils.
He looked around but his eyes were blurry with water and salt, he tried to fly away, to teleport but it was as if his power was drained in the struggle to live. Behind the blur that filled his eyes something brown was floating, he latched to it. He thanked the Turnian fleet for its generosity and all went black.
The sound of waves and the force of wind, the distant sound of tropical birds, he had no idea of where he was, but at least he was alive. Sunlight blinded him, a terrible pain forbid him from standing so he turned around and started to throw up. Closing his eyes he focused and chanted while his hands moved doing the instinct movements of a spell, then for a second there was no more heat nor sounds, only a strange force enveloping him in the nothingness until then the sound of waves and the distant sound of tropical birds filled his hears while wind pressed against his wet clothes. He opened his eyes, he had barely moved. It took about five failed attempts for him to realize wherever he was, there was no way he could just teleport out of it.
‘Fuck’ He spoke, his voice broken ‘Fucking gnomes, fucking lizards.’
He stretched his arms over into the sand, his fingers sinking deep into the wet sand and attempted to drag his body out of the water. His face twisted and his throat moved as if he was screaming, but no sound came out of it.
How the fuck did this happened? How could he not see the Turnian’s coming? He should have expected them to intervene, instead he had trusted in their neutrality and previous rivalry with the fucking gnomes. His hand fumbled around his body not finding his shapeshifting emerald nor his dragon scales or all of his gold and dcouments.
Everything seemed to be gone.
‘No, no no, I can’t lose it, I just can’t.’ He fumbled in a whisper desperately twisting in the ground and attempting to stand. He circled around the sand taking out his military jacket. The bloody hands fumbled their way up to his chest touching, looking for something.
And then he found it, he could feel the string that surrounded his neck and grabbing it he took it out, at once he knew all those protection spells were worth it. He kissed it and cried with tears that he thought he had lost. The Amulet of Talistan was safe, nothing else mattered, he put it back into his shirt and once again everything went to black.
As light filled his eyes and the shape of the world formed around him, he could see the distinct trail of a wet man being carried across the beach it was clearly fresh due to the fact he was leaving it himself. Under his armpits he felt the strong pull of someone’s arms, he looked around and he saw a young brown haired man dragging him away from the water.
Shocked he struggled his way out of the man’s arms who was too surprised to keep his hold. He then realized he was not young, he was very young probably not older than sixteen. His clothes were wet and ripped, and as he looked into Richard’s eyes he spoke to him in a language that he did not spoke, but recognized: Turnian.
Richard’s eyes widened as a hand went to his chest, and suddenly he could hear how the man finished his sentence
‘’….lrigh?’’ The young man asked, worry visibly showing in his voice and face.
‘Yes, yes thank you, sorry I was surprised. Didn’t knew there were more survivors.’
‘More? This is all the more you can see Sir, I thought you were a goner for a moment but then I heard you mumble incoherently and decided to drag you away before the tide took you back.’
‘Thank, thank you.’ Richard mumbled nervously
‘Can you walk?’ The young boy asked.
‘No, every time I try to stand up my head spins around like a drunken boar.’
‘It’s probably the salt water; it seems you drank a lot of it.’ The boy said offering Richard his arm for support ‘’Let me help you sir.’’
The two walked away from the beach, until they got into the border of what seemed to be a Jungle, it was then he realized the small warmth he felt creeping down from his left side was not water, but blood.
‘Don’t worry Sir, I know some first aid, so I can patch you up.’
‘Thank you young man?’ Richard said, in his perfect Turnian.
‘No problem Sir, you can call me Bob, it’s easier than my Turnian name. I think you would struggle with it once the magic fades away.’
Richard’s chest locked in pain and fear. Did the boy realize who he was? If there was one thing he did not want to add to his long list of sins was killing a boy intentionally. What could he do? Pretend? No, it would be suspicious, better to acknowledge the fact and see where the situation went.
‘Thank you.’ He said in the weakest tone he could muster
‘I am sorry sir, but it was clear you were not Turnian, you don’t have the skin tone of one, you are a mercenary right?’
‘Yes, Yes I am.’ He replied
‘Where from?’ The boy asked impishly
‘’Talland’’ He replied too tired to lie.
‘’Oh, like Richard the Butcher?’’ The boy asked
‘Yes’ He said ‘Like Richard the Butcher.’ Anyone knew Richard was from Redwind Island, a completely different place than Talland. This boy clearly knew little, if anything from the world north of the teeth, that or he was an idiot. Regardless one of those two facts was probably why he didn’t recognize him and saved his life.
‘So what’s your name?’ Bob asked.
‘Conrad Colorado’ Richard replied as his eyes closed, and fell asleep.
The next day he woke up to find his wounds patched up and the pain alleviated, probably to the work of Bob. Realizing he was awake and the spell had faded he immediately he blocked his mind and self from any kind of scrying or mind reading. He would not take any chances he was in a strange land and people were looking for him, not all of them friends.
The boy was nowhere to be seen so he decided to look around, they were clearly in a jungle, the temperatures were almost tropical and the air was filled with ancient magic. It didn’t take Bob much to notice he was awake, and slowly levitating, he looked amazed at how he floated. He asked him if he could fly, and he told him he could do much more, after all he was the Hero of Talland who had joined the fair troops of New Talland to defend it from the unfathomable tyranny of Richard the Butcher. The boy replied in sounds of awe while he clapped. For moments Richard wondered if the boy was missing a horse or two, since he believed almost anything he had said so far. However for a time he actually believed Camels ruled Keshan from the shadows, so he was no one to judge and meditated on the cultural differences and distance that still persisted.
He tried to teleport until he realized he couldn’t try anymore, night was falling and the kid looked worried he had taken measures to make some sort of camp, but who knew what lurked in the jungle?. Richard decided to impress him, and weaving through Shadows he built a small manor in the jungle. The Kid’s eyes opened as plates as his jaw dropped in amazement, he once again asked if it was real, and Richard replied he was as real as he believed. Pain struck his sides, the spell and the successive failed attempts at teleportation had drained him. They entered the Manor and the unseen servants inside were eager to comply with their wishes: Warm food, warm beds and magical baths. The boy was glad, and his eyes filled with admiration for ‘Conrad Colorado’. He sincerely didn’t care about the charade he was mounting, if the boy wanted to believe he was Conrad Colorado he would give him the pleasure. How long would it last? One day? Two days? It was a matter of time before they found him.
The next day they traveled across the island, exploring it, it didn’t took them long to notice that towards the east in the distance a distant and similar island could be observed, and it took them just two more days to realize that another one was in west approximately on a similar distance. The fact the islands were close, and the three had a prominent mountain at its center made it clear they were in one of Wlef’s teeth, the irony of the situation was not something he felt fond of. But what did it matter? His energies were drained, but at least he could summon out a Manor out of the shades, he couldn’t teleport them out but they were safe. Three days had already passed, it would be just a matter of time for him to be found by his forces. He was right of course; it was just a matter of time. Thing is he had never guessed how much time it was. After the first week he dropped the Mind Blank in hopes they could scry on him, but as another week of Time passed without any kind of news he guessed that the island not only prevented teleporting but also concealed his presence. He tried going with the boy out to the sea between islands to teleport, but whatever was keeping him from leaving was also in the sea. How far would he have to go to teleport out? He just couldn’t keep casting fly spells until he got out of the reach of bloody Wlef’s teeth.
The boy was good company, he kept asking him questions about his adventures and the world of the north, he asked about snow and pine forests, about gnomes and the empire of Atar and he greatly enjoyed the terrible stories he told him about Richard the Butcher. It was a strange situation; Conrad Colorado was a person he had not given much thought in the last years, his figure eclipsed by that of Ahriman himself. Conrad was a mortal reflection of Ahriman’s own story; forced into evilness by destiny, what a poor wretch he was. The mere thought of this only pissed him off more, the gods, they were not a lie, but a sadistic bunch of cosmic jerks.
It was during the second week when he started to teach the boy basic common, starting by the alphabet. The boy was bright, just a normal boy of course, no magic power inherent to him. He had lost his family and so choose to be serving in the navy instead of living in an orphanage. Given Richard’s own experience with orphanages that fact only improved his opinion of Bob. At the start of the third week Bob started asking him about the name plates in the rooms of the magical manor. Who was Brokk? A great gladiator of Talland and personal friend of him long time ago. Who was Dakara? A great paladin with a fantastic booty and a bad attitude. Hechin? A deranged but friendly priest of Solarin, Bob was happy he finally knew about something he spoke off in detail when they mentioned Hechin. Ash? The real emperor of Atar, a quiet man that carved for absolute power in secret. Matthew? A fantastic bard, the best one. TomTom? The greatest hero he ever knew.
But as days passed the names remaining were few. Who was Charlie? A Tengu he replied at the time, not wanting to talk more about the subject. And Mennas? The King of Gnomeland he replied, but Bob didn’t believe him. He could be a famous mercenary but the chances of him knowing the King of Gnomeland were null in his perspective, a King as himself had no time to meet with mercenaries such as him.
Bob was delighted; he loved the tall tales and was glad he was living in a island with a person so famous and beloved in his own country. He admitted that for a moment, at first, he was scared on what kind of person he could be. In a war all people change but it seemed Conrad kept true to himself and the principles of his friends who also seemed to be great and beloved people. Richard smiled, devastated inside.
Weeks turned into months, and he got anxious. What happened? Why did no one came for them? Did the war turned for the worse? Did they already win? Was an Ahriman level crisis going on? Every day he looked into the horizon and threw fireballs at it, in hopes somewhere in the distance a ship saw them and reported it. But nothing, around the half of the third month he was sleeping in his chambers when Bob woke him up with his cries for desperation.
‘’Mister Conrad! Mister Conrad! Wake up!’’ He spoke in broken mixture of common and Turnian.
‘What is going on?’ Richard asked as he woke up.
‘’There is an Orcish ship on the beach.’’
‘’What? Are you sure?’’ He asked immediately standing up.
The boy nodded.
‘Don’t worry I will deal with them.’ Richard replied.
He got dressed; he cleaned his face and left the manor, Bob closely following him behind. They walked for a few minutes until he could see without a doubt a ship of the Wlefian armada, and close to it shouting orders in orcish leaning over a crutch he saw Admiral Killgore. He looked annoyed and worried, but it didn’t took long for one of the crewmen to notice Richard and the boy, and alert him.
Killgore eyes opened wide in surprise
‘’Chieftain, we finally found you!! We knew you were alive.’’
‘’You magnificent bastard, I knew you survived.’’ Richard shouted in his accented orcish. Bob looked at him surprised, and asked him what was the orc saying.
‘’He is glad I am alive, Bob don’t worry these are friends of mine.’’
‘’Friends? Mercenary friends?’’
Richard laughed, ‘No Bob, these are my men.’
‘’A Turnian chieftain? Where did you found the boy?’
‘’This boy saved my life, you shall treat him with outmost respect, he even speaks a little common, I taught him myself.’’
‘’Good boy, brave boy, I salute you.’’ Killgore said in his own broken common.
‘’Thank you.’’ Bob replied.
‘’You saved Chairman Richard, you shall be hero of Xhas’Wlef.’’ Killgore added while he and all the orcs saluted him. For a moment Bob looked at the orcs, then at Richard who was moving his left hand towards his face and then back at the orcs.
‘’Mister Conrad?’’ Bob asked nervously in Turnian. ‘’What is going on?’’
‘I am sorry Bob, that’s not my name. As my bright Admiral just told you. I am Richard Cipher, Chairman of the People’s Republic of Xhas’Wlef.’ Bob jumped back and looked for something to use as a weapon, grabbing a small pebble and brandishing as if it was a bomb.
‘Bob, drop the pebble, you are a Hero to these orcs and the people of Xhas’Wlef. No one here will harm you, I have ordered them to treat you with outmost respect and so they shall.’
‘What are you going to do with me?’ The boy shouted in panic.
‘Whatever you want Bob, do you want to go back to Turnia? Done. Want to be a hero of Xhas’wlef? Done. Do you want a normal life in Xhas’Wlef? Done. Want a normal life anywhere in the world? Done. You have saved my life Bob, you are a Hero.’ Richard said, excitement in his voice as gestures accompanied his words.
‘How can I trust you? Why did you lied?’ Bob asked almost screaming tears falling from his eyes
‘Would you have saved me if I told you who I was? Would you have trusted me? I doubt so. You saved my life, so now let me save yours. We won’t hurt you, think about it, if everything I told you about myself was true, would you be alive now?’
‘But you told me so many terrible stories about Richard!! Were you enjoying telling me your crimes while in disguise?’
‘I admit to the fact I was fooling around, half of the stuff I told you was a lie I just invented cause I loathe myself much more than I loathe my enemies and so it’s almost a hobby of mine to see how much people can hate me. You don’t need to trust me Bob, but come with us we will drop you at the nearest port, or if you want when we get out of reach of this bloody islands I will teleport you back to Turnia with a bag of gold for you to use. Like I told you before, whatever you want I will grant it to you.’
The boy remained silent for a moment looking intently at Richard, and at the orcs who looked as if they were about to burst in laughter. ‘Okay, I will go with you to Xhas’Wlef if you promise you won’t send me to war.’
‘Of course not Bob, you will not participate in this war or any other war unless it is your will. Even your great deed can remain a secret if you want no one to know you saved me. You can live a completely normal life.’
Bob smiled
‘Okay, I will go, I don’t want to fight in the war anymore’ He said
‘Wonderful! I promise you won’t participate on this war or any other war anymore.’
Richard then turned towards his orcs who were not longer on the verge of laughter, they were quiet they expressions somber.
‘Killgore, what’s going on?’
‘Chieftain, there is no more war.’ Killgore said in orcish while he removed his admiral hat ‘We lost.’
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Post by kerrah on Jan 24, 2017 19:49:08 GMT
Chapter 11 Friends and Family“Are we secure?” “Yeah, I think we are. It’s been almost four hours, and no sign of any pursuers.” Grikka was maintaining her musket to pass the time. Knight was pacing around, glancing out through the windows every few seconds. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and he irritably ground his teeth. Every few minutes, he’d dig out the dowsing compass with a scrap of the kobold’s shirt attached to it, and it would keep pointing southeast. The kobold still hadn’t been transferred to Gnomeland. He’d ground his teeth again. He wasn’t the greatest company, but out of her friends he was the one she most liked to fight and hunt with. The first one of them she’d met, not too long after what had happened to her tribe. She sighed a little and put down the gun barrel she’d been polishing. Glancing at a Gnomish mechanical clock on a table at the other end of the safety house, she found that it was getting near to the time. “Let’s go get Skystrider”, she said and started to assemble her weapon again. “You shouldn’t have brought that thing to Tannhäuser”, Knight told her brusquely. “It draws too much attention. They’ll have eye witnesses to try to track you down with..” “I turned invisible a few blocks away from the scene”, she responded in a patient tone while she finished putting the musket together. “No one saw me bring him here.” He let out a skeptical grumble, but didn’t argue any more. She strapped the musket across her back and led him out the room and downstairs. In the big living room they found her mount, chewing on the bones of the duck she’d given to him after coming here. Stepping up to him, she stroked his muzzle and picked up a mug from a table to feed him water. He’d been wounded a little in the fight, but nothing he couldn’t handle. “He’s getting old”, the wizened swordsman behind her said. “It’s been years since you left the highlands. I can tell he’s slowing down.” She gave a sad nod and kissed the animal’s muzzle. “Aren’t we all? But he doesn’t need to last too much longer. Just enough for me to feed The Richard to him. Preferably alive, but at this point I’m not that picky.” She looked down and fingered the faded silk of the scarlet scarf wrapped around her torso. He would see her wearing that, and he would know who it was that killed him. Her only regret was that it wasn’t the original. “Cipher’s just a pale imitation of his gnomish friend”, the human harrumphed, crossing his arms. “That’s all he’ll be remembered as, twenty years from now.” Grikka strapped the reins on Skystrider. “So when are you-” She was interrupted by a subtle swooping sound coupled with a gust of wind. Someone teleporting in. She saw his reflection in a window. “Hello, Rook”, she said calmly. “Are we expected?” “Yes”, he muttered in an already impatient voice. “Are you ready?” Grikka took Skystrider’s reins and hoisted the saddle over her shoulder. Without a verbal answer she stepped up to the sorcerer, followed by Knight. In moments, he teleported all four of them - the mount included - out. They appeared in the moonlit courtyard of a modestly sized countryside mansion. “Ah, this place”, Grikka said before starting to lead toward the stables. “I don’t like coming to the Horn. This place smells like human arrogance.” Neither of the humans with her had anything to say about that. Rook seemed oddly pensive today. Something was clearly wrong. While he had a bitter and prematurely aged face, and had some tendency to sadism, the man was usually much more lively and friendly. In a way, he was Knight’s opposite number, being more talkative and emotional, but today the two seemed well matched behind her. After leaving Skystrider at the tables, they headed to the mansion. “Do you think Queen is telling the truth about this place? That Ahriman used to own it?” She asked. “Who knows? The previous owner’s not around. That’s what matters”, Knight answered in his usual manner. Grikka rolled her eyes. Out of all the things a person could lack, curiosity was the one she never understood. The mansion wasn’t very well maintained, since they couldn’t trust anyone enough to hire servants, and couldn’t really spare the resources for something so menial. Dust and cobwebs were in evidence here and there, but they did pass an Unseen Servant cleaning the stairs on their way up. Whether it was Ahriman or someone else that had lived here, they hadn’t left much evidence of themselves: just the most generic human furnishings and pieces of art. All the heraldry had been chiseled off decades ago. In the study, the three of them found the others waiting already. Queen was behind the desk, as always, hands crossed in a slightly impatient way. King was sitting by a window, looking at the dead garden while toying around with an elven block puzzle with her hands. Bishop was reading a book by a bookcase. “Finally”, Queen said. “Is the kobold dead?” King stood up and let out a laugh. Laughs came easy to her. “Get up, you silly sod. This isn’t a boardroom meeting. No sitting behind a desk, remember?” Queen hesitated briefly before standing up and walking over to the others, followed by a trail of billowing robes. Grikka wondered if those Akeshafian clothes were custom-made by some very trustworthy tailor somewhere, or whether magic was used to make them. Left behind on the desk was a metal chunk in the likeness of a simple head, with small dead eyes and a large gaping mouth. “So?” King said, turning over to the newcomers. Rook sat down in a cherrywood chair and drummed his fingers into the armrest. He was ignored in favour of the other two. “TumTum’s alive”, Grikka said straight out, avoiding looking King in the eye. She felt ashamed, but there was no point in lying or avoiding the topic. “She’s gotten herself friends. Even with Knight there to help me, it was six against us two. And then Javel showed up.” For his part, Knight seemed completely indifferent to their failure, stepping over to inspect a painting on the wall of the room, his back to the rest of the team. Bishop looked at them over her shoulder, her brow wrinkled. “Javel? In Tannhäuser?” “He didn’t recognise me. I don’t think he did, at least”, Knight said, scratching the back of his head. “Seemed more focused on the skink.” “Javel hasn’t left Mennastur. My people would have told me if he had”, Queen said in that self-assured tone. “You must have seen a body double, or something of the sort.” “I think I’d have heard if Javel was in Tannhäuser”, King agreed thoughtfully, though she didn’t seem as assured. “Are you sure he wasn’t paying attention to you? Killing off Javel at this point, with this level of alarm in Gnomeland, might be impossible.” “It was not Javel”, Queen stated, simply. King gave a shrug and twisted the wooden blocks in her hands again a little to try another angle. “Look at what I found in a carpentry store”, she said to Grikka. “Ever tried one of these?” “Can’t say I have”, Grikka said, stepping closer to inspect the toy. Queen sighed. “I’ve never been any good with those things. I have no head for geometry. I get lost in the most simple of mazes. Thankfully I can just fly over most of them.” A small smile played on that sleek, over-long Akeshafian snout. Bishop shut the book she’d been reading and put it back into the shelf while turning around. She was the shortest person in the room, just under Rook. Her raven black hair cascaded past her elven ears. “I haven’t seen you since the last full crew meeting, Pawn. How are you?” They were code names, of course. They had first met each other while clearing a dungeon. Afterwards, when they’d started working on this project, Queen had insisted they only refer to each other by pseudonyms until they were done. It had been hard to keep it straight in the beginning, but by now Grikka thought of them with those titles. She didn’t mind being Pawn. It was close to the Orcish word for hunter. “I’m all right. I’m enjoying all the travel, but this kobold is such a pain in my ass”, she complained and gave a dramatic sigh which amused King quite predictably. “I take it no one believed her in Mennastur?” “No, they didn’t”, Bishop confirmed. “All they got were some fragmented ravings about her being a part in King Mennas’ death. We intended for them to find her body, in order to make everyone suspect Richard, but it seems she’s managed to do that for us on her own.” If Rook had said something like that, he’d have punctuated it with a smirk, but Bishop’s face was neutral. She was obviously still concerned about the kobold at large. “Should we keep going after her? I think we’re running the risk of exposure, especially if Javel’s people are after them now.” Grikka uneasily fingered the hilt of one of her pistols and paced a bit. “That was one of King Mennas’ pet boys hanging with her. The southerner”, Knight grumbled, making a distasteful face. “Ter Kingsgrace?” Queen asked. “Yes, we heard he’s left Gnomeland. So he’s with the kobold? Maybe if we managed to capture them, we could use them as hostages…” King and Queen launched into talks of resources available and the risks involved and all such things. Grikka let them file down the details while she thought about TumTum. She had never wanted to go after The Richard’s family, the same way he’d attacked hers. As far as she knew, this kobold was just a poor slave whom he’d claimed as his own from someone he’d killed. Grikka felt sorry for her, but in the end it didn’t help to weep for one’s prey. Wlef would welcome TumTum in his court, lost as she was. She was his daughter, just as much as Grikka. Finally, the bosses gave their verdict on what was to be done about the kobold, and Grikka nodded solemnly. The topic shifted. “You’ve been to the Empire, haven’t you, Queen?” Bishop asked, gesturing vaguely eastward. “What news from there? How’s our benefactor doing?” “He’s pleased with our progress, and his connections are making things easier for us. New Orsad is a powder keg, and there’s unrest in most of the other cities. The countryside is largely on Reginald’s side, but the urban people don’t like him. The Raven Prince is securing his foothold in Mullhaven and preparing to march for the capital”, Queen exposited in a lecturing tone. “There was a battle in Terevin between some heretic cultists and the local legion garrison. Word has it Reginald’s son died.” “Prince Markos?” Bishop said, quite surprised. “He was a good man. Without him, Reginald’s support among the legions will surely wither away.” King gave a solemn nod, and then turned to Queen. “What about Areth?” The answer she got was a slight scowl and a noncommittal shrug. “What are we going to do about- Rook, what is it?” Grikka hadn’t noticed anything yet, but now every eye turned toward the sorcerer. He was sobbing silently in the armchair, trying to cover it with a hand. He made to stand up, mumbling something, but like a flash King was on him, her hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right. It’s Mennastur, right?” She said, her voice a picture of empathy. Rook swallowed and tried to steady himself, only to shed more tears as he spoke in a wavery voice: “They… I had to stop to talk to some guards on duty when I placed the barrels. I knew I was killing them. I killed them… my… my own countrymen… they never…” King leaned forward and embraced him, pulling his face to her shoulder to comfort him. She whispered in his ear and patted his back, utterly unselfconscious of the situation. Grikka hesitated. She’d had those same conscience problems, and while her years in the savannah had made her hard, it was difficult not to sympathise with Rook. “I know it’s hard”, King said softly, but loudly enough to be heard by all of them. “Everything worth doing is. But we’re here for each other. This is a team effort, and none of us needs to be alone.” Grikka looked around herself. Grumpy Knight, bitter Rook, haughty Bishop, pedantic Queen and nannying King. A strange assortment of people they were, but they were her team. Her friends. Her new tribe. She reached to put her hand on Rook’s shoulder. “King’s right. I think you should take tomorrow off, if the control freaks can fit it in their schedule. I remember from two years ago that there’s a beautiful creek a little bit outside this place. Go fishing, Rook. You’ve earned it.” Bishop voiced her agreement. Even Knight gave a nod, though he’d never gotten along with Rook that well. “It won’t be long”, Queen said to them. “Rook can have his day off, but soon we’ll get to what we’ve been working for, friends. If we can pull this off, all of Sa’vard will thank us for it afterward.”
“I can’t believe you’d say something like that. I know him! I know he wouldn’t do something like that! He and Mennas adventured together for half a year!” “You left his court over him being an overbearing ass! And don’t pretend he had any love for the King. I can’t believe you’re standing up for him!” TumTum and Terrence kept bickering, but Ulias felt more nervous about what lay ahead. They’d had to flee the scene of their fight, and had thankfully made it a safe distance away before re-emerging from their invisibility. But now they were sticking to the back alleys and other obscure routes. Up ahead, the path was swallowed by a tunnel cutting through a hill. The statue of some long-forgotten governor who’d had the tunnel built was standing next to it, so faded with time and lack of maintenance that it was hard to tell if it was a gnome or a half-elf at first. Ulias felt his stomach tighten as they neared it. A draft was running through the tunnel, and felt like an invisible force pulling him inward. He squeezed his hands into fists and acted as casual as they could, even as they crossed the threshold into the tunnel. No one was paying attention to him. “I had my reasons for leaving, and it seems to me you’ve misunderstood all of them!” The son of Vilias had grown up on a ship, and spent much of his adolescence in the roomy seminary at Senole under the watchful eye of the Lord of Storms. It baffled him how casual everyone else was about what they were doing. As the natural light behind them started to vanish, and the tunnel ahead was nothing but a series of yellow dots in the form of the lanterns which lit the way, the dwarf felt like the stone above them was about to come crashing down any moment. He could not stop picturing the tall buildings he’d seen on top of this hill from earlier. “You haven’t even seen him in, what, eight years? People change. He’s got the motives and the means! I don’t know about opportunity, but who knows what resources he has access to. The Protean, TumTum! It was a Protean that killed Moraqshed!” Ter’s increasingly agitated voice echoed around them. Ulias wanted to tell him to quiet down in case anyone overheard, but he was afraid he’d start hyperventilating if he opened his mouth. “And you think Mennas was any better? Just ask half the people in this city what they think of Gnomeland.” “That’s irrelevant, we’re not talking about my father, we’re talking about yours.” “Wait, what?” Robin’s timid voice somehow seemed to cut through both their bile. They turned to look at him as he cleared his throat. “You’re King Mennas’ son? Wasn’t he a, uh, I mean…” “Adopted”, Ter said tersely. “Like her.” “Terrence of Keshan”, Lenona said in an unimpressed tone, and gave a shrug. “I’ve heard of you.” “Terrence Kingsgrace”, he corrected her, sounding more than a bit haughty in his irritated state. Ulias tried to focus on the lot of them to ignore the rapid beating of his heart and how distant the other end of the tunnel looked. “Well, I’ve never heard of you”, he blurted out in a breathless tone. The dark-skinned human gave him a sideways glance. “You’re from Turnia, that’s a long way away. And why are you even here? Not that I mind having another healer.” He pressed his hand on his side, where a wound had just recently been cured. His own healing skills left something to be desired. “I’m not allowed to say”, Ulias said, stopping to breathe in rapidly before continuing: “It’s between me, the deacon, and the Lord of Storms.” “Well it can’t be anything that important if you’re helping a bunch of chumps like us”, said Pike in an attempt at humour. It got a tense chuckle out of Robin, but everyone else was unaffected. “Well…” Ulias hesitated. He’d almost been fully distracted from his panic, now, but stopping to think was just making his heckles rise up again. So he spoke without thinking: “When TumTum told me she knows who killed the Gnomish king, I thought that if I help bring the information to the officials then they’ll reward me, and having the Gnomish kingdom owe me a favour would be helpful in finding…” He shut his mouth. Everyone was left in a momentary silence which was broken by TumTum bursting into giggles quite unmatching her hardened appearance. “And here I thought you were just helping me out of the goodness of your heart, Uli.” She seemed to find it very humorous. “Please don’t call me Uli. Only my wife calls me Uli”, he protested a bit weakly. They were almost out of the tunnel. “Oh yeah, you’re married. I forgot about that”, she said. He had spent several days with her before they’d managed to get in touch with Ter, and had talked some about who they were. “Wait, doesn’t she even know why you’re here? What about your kids?” “She knows it’s for our god”, he said simply. “Dwarves grow slowly. I can still help raise Tomias and Yumma when I come back, even if it takes a year or two.” “What kind of a name is Yumma?” Lenona asked quite insensitively. Robin yanked on the back of her shirt to pull her out of the conversation. Those two seemed to share a lot of looks with each other, but only few words. They finally emerged back underneath the god’s own sky, and Ulias couldn’t help but look up and take a deep breath. The others looked at him a bit funny, but he didn’t care. He recognised an old watch tower poking above the skyline up ahead. They were only fifteen minutes from their attic apartment. They walked in silence for two blocks after that. They passed by a group of three muls standing in a street corner. Their glares looked threatening, but it was six armed people so they didn’t make a move. “I think we’re in gang territory”, TumTum whispered when they got out of earshot. “All of Tannhäuser is gang territory”, Pike said in a relaxed tone. He was toying with a coin in his hand, looking like he was about to start performing street magic for pennies. “Including the center of town and the governor’s palace. His guards are just another gang, as far as the people here are concerned. Or at least that’s how they put it to me five years ago.” “It’s true”, Robin said, nodding eagerly. “They probably won’t cause trouble unless we look like we’re going to cause a mess. Me and Len had to talk to a gang boss at that warehouse area to make sure the people who own the warehouse weren’t paying extra money for protection.” “He was all bluster, but I could have taken him”, Lenona boasted, cracking her knuckles. Ter gave a sigh that communicated just how little he thought of the chitchat. “Guys… people… we need to choose what to do next. Javel’s people may be coming after us right now. Maybe they’re waiting for us when we get to our place.” They were right outside the apartment building they’d rented the apartment in. “Let’s get in private, and then talk, all right.” Pike gestured at the top floor of the building. “Robin, Lenona? Please join us. For the talk, I mean. We can compare notes, pool up everything we know, and you can go your own way afterward if that’s what your duties to the Silver Protocol require.” The two of them shared another one of those silent looks between themselves, and Robin nodded. “Richard, though…” Ter hesitated as he opened the door. TumTum was pointedly not looking at him. “We need to at least investigate Richard.” “Did someone say my name?” Ulias saw Terrence practically tense up hard enough to pull the door off its hinges. It wasn’t Richard Cipher, of course, but only their landlord. He was a human in his fifties, balding and more than a bit fat. Ter’s reaction made him laugh out loud. “Calm down, man. It’s like you heard a tarrasque roar.” Ter groaned and rolled his eyes while the others filed in past him. “What does a tarrasque roar even sound like?” Pike asked curiously. “Pretty bad, that’s what”, their landlord said in a good-natured way. “Oh, you made new friends? Or found new party members?” He waved his hand at Robin and Lenona. “I don’t have beds for six people up there, so I hope you’re not here to stay.” Pike had recommended this guy to them after they’d arrived in town. Apparently he had stayed here during his previous visit to Tannhäuser. “No, they’re only here to talk. And we may be leaving town tonight”, Terrence said seriously. The landlord scoffed. “Well, I’m keeping the rent for tonight anyway.” He patted the pocket of his old worn down pants, which was bulging from the mass of his coinpurse. “Actually, we might come back”, Pike quickly interjected. “And we might come with little warning and need a place to crash. Is it okay if we reserve the flat for later?” The jovial fat man laughed again. “Yeah, you’re adventurers all right. Sure, I’ve had plenty of tenants who were teleporting in and out of town at a daily pace. It’s eighteen gold marks a night. Reserve as many of ‘em as you want.” After some quick negotiations and talks, Pike paid five days’ rent, and the crew headed upstairs. “Remember, the other gunpowder shipment is still somewhere in Tannhäuser”, he said after they finally entered the crowded loft apartment. “The reason the bad guys didn’t transport it via teleport is because something as powerfully magical as one of those trunks of holding would be detected and investigated by officials. So if they had TumTum smuggle another trunk to this town, they probably haven’t taken it anywhere.” “But it could be anywhere”, Robin said, running his fingers through his hair. “I mean, we could go ask if anyone in that part of town has seen someone take the trunk out of the warehouse…” “Xhas’wlef is first priority”, TumTum interrupted. She saw Ter’s face turn into a triumphant grin and added: “Richard may have leads on the Protean, even though there’s only one of those that’s in his service anymore and it doesn’t match Robin and Lenona’s description at all. This is all sketchy as hell, and I think if Richard isn’t guilty - which he definitely isn’t - then he might be able to help us. Give resources and a safe place from Javel’s goons.” Ulias stroked his beard. “Are you sure about him? I don’t mean to offend, but he has a grisly reputation even in Turnia.” “Of course he has a bad reputation; Turnia’s been at war with Xhas’wlef”, she protested. “He’s innocent, and I’m sure he’ll help us solve this.” “Very well, but we’re going to approach carefully”, Ter said, rolling his shoulders as he sat on the edge of his bed. “Let’s take nothing for granted.” “Speaking of taking things for granted.” Lenona crossed her arms and leaned against the door of the flat. “What about us?” Her eyes flicked at Robin, who stood by the small window on the opposite end of the room. “Your help would be much appreciated”, Pike said without hesitation, and without coming across as desperate. “If your duties to the Silver Protocol won’t let you, then that’s that. But I’m sure you can tell that something is up here. Whoever killed Moraqshed has to be related to this gunpowder shipment.” Robin let out a little hum and tapped his finger on the window’s glass pane. “Uh… what do you think, Lenona?” For some reason he sounded very awkward when he said it. “I’m not technically a member of the Protocol. I’m freelance, but his boss trusts me.” She nodded at her partner as she said it. “Obviously we’ll need to report to her. His boss, that is. I have a suspicion I know what her answer is going to be, though.” “Oh…” Pike said, sounding a tad disappointed. Robin gave a nervous laugh. “Actually Len means the opposite. My boss has a pretty loose view on the Silver Protocol’s mission statement. She had us investigating Moraqshed before any idea of the Protean even appeared. The Wardens aren’t quite an outsider tampering plot, but they’re the next best thing.” Ulias shrugged. “Well, whatever you say. But… what about you, Pike?” “Me?” He blinked his eyes in surprise. “They blew up my school, and my home town was shot to shit. Besides, I’m wanted in Gnomeland. I don’t have anywhere to be.” He cracked a smile, but then straightened his face. “This is big, and it seems the powers that be have other things to be concerned over. I just want to help.” He gave them an earnest, humble look. “You can come”, Ter said neutrally, and made brief eye contact. After breaking it, he sat down and spoke in a commanding tone: “Lenona and Robin, you should find your boss. If at all possible, I want to go to Xhas’wlef tonight. Pike, can you cast a Sending?” “No, not without a scroll”, the gnome responded. “Who do you want to contact?” “I could cast one tomorrow morning”, Ulias offered. “But then I won’t have my most powerful spell for the rest of the day…” The talk about his family had left him slightly distracted. He wondered if he could get time to make a Sending back home at some point. Either to the Deacon to inform of the new situation, or to his family to apologise in case he should die. Probably both, if they ever could get a day off. “Ulias…” TumTum said. “You do realise we’re not going to endear ourselves to Gnomeland down this path. Not unless we actually catch the assassins and turn them in, which doesn’t seem easy considering how badly we got trounced by those two earlier.” She sounded very hesitant to tell him about this. It was clear she thought they needed him. “A part of my vows as a priest is that I live to serve all believers”, he said. The translation from Turnian was a bit sketchy, but it worked. “They don’t specify which God’s believers.” Pike whooped at this and slapped the dwarf in the back jovially. “That’s the spirit! Now just don’t go asking our enemies about their denominations.” The six of them split up to find resources and settle everything. Ulias and Ter went to find a wizard willing to teleport them to New Braveport; TumTum and Pike sought supplies; Lenona and Robin returned to the Silver Protocol to report. When they met back at the apartment, it was several hours past midnight. Robin’s supervisor was out of town to discuss the current crisis with the Protocol’s other leaders, so they had simply left a message to be delivered to her. TumTum was now human-sized like she’d been when Ulias had first met her. When he asked her about it, she just smiled and winked. They decided to sleep in order to be fully alert and have their full choice of spells in Xhas’wlef. They only had four beds, but Lenona and Robin offered to sleep on the floor. He turned into a rat to preserve space, and cuddled up against her for the night. When the lot of them woke up, Ulias caught a glimpse of his tail poking out from Lenona’s cleavage before she hastily sat up and pulled Robin out, clearly hoping no one saw. After breakfast and spell-preparation, they headed for the mage Ter and Ulias had found last night. And so, a couple of hours before noon they found themselves transported outside the gates of New Braveport. The city was a sandy place with houses of clay and wood. Richard Cipher’s administration was in Wavebreak Island offshore, and entry there was prohibited. The city had walls, but there were plenty of huts outside of them. Goblins peered at the foreigners from the shadows, whispering between themselves in Orcish. “Home sweet home”, TumTum said to the others as they arrived at the city gates, where four orcs with muskets stood guard. “Keep your hands and eyes to yourselves, don’t wander off, and don’t badmouth my father.” She winked at Ter after the last point, and then turned to speak Orcish to the guards.
The intricately painted map of the Empire lay on the table, with pieces being placed for legions, rebel groups, neighbouring armies, and unknown factors. General Lefato was quiet and tense, focusing on the task at hand and leaving his Emperor to himself. Never in all his years of rule had Reginald felt as alone as today. Two of his daughters were still around, and would join him shortly in his misery, and he had grandchildren too, but… “General, please… tell our magi to transmit another Sending to Terevin. Tell them… tell them to bring back Markos’ body. No matter the cost. He deserves to be buried like the Emperor he should have been.” Reginald kept his voice as steady as he could. The man bowed and confirmed the order. Filippos, why wouldn’t you accept proper healing? You proud, gallant fool. You had years in you yet…Regret and disappointment. Those would be the legacy of Emperor Akakios I, a man who had once been Reginald. What would he tell Markos’ children? “My liege”, the general said hesitantly, returning to the table. “The envoys out of Eral’tir have arrived and await your summons.” Reginald gave a hesitant nod and leaned back to no longer lean on the edge of the table. “Bring them in.” The elves would not save him. Reginald’s eldest daughter had married a marquis, the cousin of the King of Eral’tir. It was not a close enough relation to count as an alliance between the two of them, and the House of Valaam was not powerful enough to help much in this war. Reginald turned to face the opening doors, leaning on his cane. His body had betrayed him. He’d never been a particularly strong man, but he had been hale and healthy only twenty years ago. Now he looked a full decade older than he ought to. When the doors revealed his daughter Zoe on the other side, he saw her cringe slightly at the sight of him. She was as radiant as ever. Zoe had always had a rotund body and a kind face, but had inherited her grandmother’s sharp tongue. Stepping in, she curtsied elegantly and said: “Father… we heard about Markos before we teleported in. I’m so sorry…” Stepping forward, she made to embrace him. Reginald hesitated, but ended up not stopping her. She felt warm against him, her plush body against his scrawny one. “You have nothing to be sorry for”, he said quietly, and patted her back twice. His face was stone. After the two of them let go and Zoe stepped back, drying her eyes with a handkerchief, the others stepped forward. “House Valaam pledges its protection to you, goodfather”, said Initra Valaam, his daughter’s sister-in-law. She was dressed for battle, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders. Zoe’s eldest son Kenedra was serving as her page, following her quietly as she stepped forward to give a reverent bow. Reginald wet his dry lips, confused. “I humbly thank your brother for his offer of support, but aren’t you in service of the King, Initra?” As he looked at her, he saw the steel pommel of a sword sticking out from underneath her cape. Not the crystal of Excalibur. He hadn’t really expected that the King would allow his dynasty’s royal sword to be wielded in a foreign war, but it was still a small disappointment. She saw his glance and gave a dry chuckle. “King Ayentima has given me leave from my duties as Champion to attend to the honour of my own house. I’m afraid I have to use my own sword, though. Perhaps it is best that Excalibur stay in Eral’tir, considering your other son-in-law.” She placed her hand on the hilt of her blade and stepped to inspect the map of the Empire. “Oh, it’s likely you’re right”, Zoe said, placing her finger on her lips thoughtfully. “Vanath is a flighty one, and that sword was forged to slay his grandfather.” “Bahamut is dead”, a voice called from the doorway. “And he was but a slave in the days of Kraldur’s war against the elves.” Vanath, son of Tiamat, took on the form of a tall man with a fierce face when in mortal company. He strode into the room, his back straight, and gave a formal bow to Reginald. “I am sorry for your loss, Emperor. Markos was a good man.” “He was”, Reginald said simply, and watched Helena enter the room as well. Both his daughters were married to men who would outlive them by centuries. And now his daughter-in-law outlived Markos, too. “Does… does Elise know yet?” He asked no one in particular. “She must”, Helena said sadly. “The word has been around the castle since last evening. I’ll go comfort her after we’re done here.” Sometimes Helena looked so much like her lost mother that it broke her father’s heart. She had Lucina’s quick temper. The fact that he’d married her to a man she hated was just another one of his regrets. The cold gulf between Helena and Vanath was palpable whenever they shared a room. Not for the first time that day, Reginald wished he’d died a year ago, when he fell off that horse. Markos would be emperor, and wouldn’t ever have served in battle as the second in command of a legion. “The Second Legion is sending someone to give us a report”, General Lefato said in a tense voice, obviously uncomfortable to be interrupting a scene like this. “Terevin has calmed down for now. Despite the loss of their general and the provincial proconsul, the rebels have been defeated. We’ll hear more in a minute.” The emperor sighed. He wanted to be anywhere but here, now. He wanted to think of anything but war and death and the suffering of his people. “We must kill this pretender, Garrel, and end the war before it even fully starts. All this unrest is centered around his person”, Vanath said, tapping a finger on the dark raven piece resting in Mullhaven on the map. “It should be the first priority to every Whisperer in the Empire, if it isn’t already.” Zoe shook her head. “He’s grown up around a paranoid sociopath. He likely has every measure imaginable to protect himself. We can’t rely on Whisperers to win this.” “I heard he had a public wedding to the Princess of Utheim”, the man said irritably. “What I wouldn’t give to have been there to scorch him from above.” “Utheim has sworn its support to Garrel’s bid for the throne”, Reginald said quietly. “Melland too, though they are far away from us. Garrel is the Queen’s cousin.” “Speaking of family relations, have you talked to your mother?” Though less waspish than usual in her mourning, Zoe managed to make the question aimed at Vanath a sting. The dragon hesitated visibly before answering: “I’ve asked Tiamat to intervene in our support, but she’s not bound to the same ideals of allegiance as you humans. You were warned of this when our contract was signed.” He glanced toward his wife briefly. Reginald had to suppress a sad sigh. Ten years ago it had seemed a good idea. It had almost seemed that the arctic kingdom of the dragons might become more closely integrated with mortalkind. But such hopes had died, as most hope seemed to. “We might not need the dragons, though they would be welcome”, Dorathion Ash said as he walked into the room, followed by a woman in armour whom Reginald knew well. He almost felt elation at the sight of her. The wizard continued: “You are overestimating the danger. All the legions stand behind us, and the heretic mobs are not organised or armed well enough to pose us a threat.” Though they had initially suffered from some petty rivalries, Reginald had over time come to trust his white-haired cousin, but in this matter he was being foolish. He ignored that, though, and stepped to shake hands with Dian Battleborn. “Friend”, he said in a shaky voice. “I’ve never been more glad to see you.” “May both our gods give you solace in your grief, friend”, she said, a sad smile on her face. The Grandmistress of the Templars of Mektin was a sturdy woman with broad shoulders and a flat homely face. She always wore the insignia of her beloved Brux. Together, the two of them had created sustainable peace between the Empire and Mektin for the first time in six generations. It was so ironic that she was here. “The armies of Mektin stand on your side against the Raven Prince”, she announced. “The Templar order itself will not join in the battlefield, but I know that many of my fellow devotees will take the field as private volunteers. They would rather have your form of Atarism than this violent revolutionary one.” Reginald tried to smile, but couldn’t quite. He got the feeling that she understood how he felt, though. “Ash, you’re overestimating our odds”, Helena said gravely. “We aren’t as well liked as you think…” She sighed. Reginald appreciated that she talked of ‘us’ rather than him, but it was he who no longer held the popularity of the armies as he once had. The emperor cut Dorathion’s protests off by saying: “Until such a time as when the matter of inheritance can be cleared up, the Champion of Atar’s first duty will be to protect my own bodily safety. We can’t afford leadership to be unclear during the attack of a hostile claimant.” The younger man voiced his agreement, but there was a tenseness about him. Had he wanted to win himself glory in the battlefield? There was some kind of a commotion in the hallway. Sounds of… cheering? The doors were opened, and one for one split second Reginald imagined his detestable cousin Garrel enter, only to blink his eyes and instead… Dorathion rushed forward and placed himself between the newcomer and the emperor. Quick divination spells fired off, but the man in the doorway did not care. “Father”, Markos said. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find anyone for a Sending. The enemy spread a lie of my death.” His armour was charred and marked with blood stains, and his face looked a little roughed up, but he was alive. Ash cast one more spell to make sure it was the real deal and not a disguised assassin, and then gave a curt nod, standing aside. Reginald stepped forward. His eyes stung. He was squeezing his fingers around his cane so hard he could feel the grain of the wood. “My son… my sweet son”, he spoke softly before they embraced, not caring of the imperial officials or any of the guards passing by on the other side of the open doorway. Once they were done, Markos looked around to see who else was here. He wasn’t a very tall lad, but had strong arms and a barrel chest. His skin was almost as dark as his grandmother’s had been. Darker than his mother, in fact. His hair was curly and he had dimples when he smiled. Moments ago Reginald had been memorising that face in case they never found a body, so now he could not stop staring. His legs felt even weaker than normal. Markos had to help his father into a chair, and on the way Reginald saw something hanging from the battle-hardened prince’s belt. “Is that the legion’s banner?” “Yes. I’m sorry to tell, but General Leo’s death was no rumour. I had to take control after a rebel crossbowman caught him in the eye.” Markos had been serving under Leo for over five years, and it was obvious from his voice that the loss stung. “I had our men feign retreat in order to lure the mob into a phalanx. They were just rabble and had no discipline, so when the ones at the front of the charge realised what was happening, they got trampled by the ones behind them.” He didn’t sound proud about the retelling, but rather almost traumatised by the fate of his own enemies. “Congratulations for your victory, and your promotion”, Vanath said with a grin. Markos was the only person in Reginald’s family that the dragon was in particularly good terms with. The prince shook his head. “Things are still uneasy, though the worst of the zealots of Terevin have been slain, captured or driven to hiding. They may make another attempt later.” “With Terevin saved, and Markos back among the living, maybe we do have a chance at this”, Zoe said. “If we still had the Pillar of Light, we wouldn’t even need to unbox it for this.” Her joke came with a flat tone, as she was more affected by Markos’ reappearance than she let on. “If only”, Reginald said, and sighed. “It baffles me that I outlived King Mennas.” He thought for a moment and continued: “Lord Ash. You are meeting your old allies tonight, yes? Aside from assuring them that we had nothing to do with Mennas’ death, tell them that I expect all the support they can give against Garrel, since they helped put us in this trouble with their help of the Blackbird twenty years ago.” Dorathion frowned. He spoke in a careful tone: “They will not take obligation well, your grace.” “I don’t care. I want to antagonise them”, Reginald said, scowling at the thought of the lot of them. “If it guilts any of them into actually helping us, all the better.” “Father!” Zoe snapped. “Stop being an old, bitter fool. They already dislike you enough. I’ve heard plenty of rumours from Xhas’wlef that the sorcerer thinks you assassinated Filippos.” Reginald sprang onto his feet and slammed his hand onto the table. Fire coursed through him. “What do they know of Filippos? He was their momentary fancy; a man they pushed into duty he did not want. They only knew him for a month, and in that time they destroyed him. They don’t know a thing about what it is to be Emperor. Those idiots thought they knew what’s best for the Empire, and look at where we are now! Garrel is their doing just as much as he is the Blackbird’s!” A silence fell into the room, broken by Reginald coughing. His back ached as he sat back down. His face felt hot, but he did not regret a word. “Your grace”, Dorathion said in a measured voice. “I will express your sentiment, but I hope you’ll allow me to moderate the tone.” The emperor gave a silent nod. Markos drew attention away from the outburst by dropping himself onto the seat at his father’s right hand. Though fresh out of a battle, his eyes were sharp and he seemed fully attentive. Perhaps eager to distract from his father, he gestured at the map, where carved ivory pieces depicted the placements of the Legions. Each legion had its own heraldric animal to represent it, which their pieces were carved in the likeness of: lion, falcon, ox, greyhound, rooster, gryphon, badger, pegasus, dolphin. Ones painted black with a raven symbol had been procured to represent the enemy. “The Rising Fire will not save us. Let’s focus on winning the war, Father. General, please brief me on our situation. The flow of information to Terevin left much to be desired.” General Lefato cleared his throat and started to summarise: “There are popular risings in support of Garrel all over the country. The one in Terevin seems to have been the largest, but we had a legion garrisoned there. Berethe, Horem and Wanderwest are in anarchy or under enemy control. That’s three out of our seven largest cities.” “There is dissident movement in New Orsad, but it hasn’t exploded yet”, Helena said, tapping her finger on the ivory symbol of the lion which represented the First Legion, right where they were. “Terevin will probably scare them into staying down for now.” “Garrel is still in Mullhaven. He is gathering a host of whores, mercenaries and anarchists to march at us”, Reginald glared at the black piece looming below Kraldur. “Reports say he may already be strong enough to defeat the Seventh Legion, which is marching to secure the border”, General Lefato informed them. “And he’s going to be followed by the armies of Utheim, by all likelihood. Garrel will never negotiate with us”, Markos pondered. “But we need to project strength to scare potential enemies off his cause. I will write a letter to my brother-in-law, the King of Hallyn. He is his father’s son: he’ll join us. The least he can do is keep Melland off our backs. The dragons…” He turned to look to Vanath, who scrunched up his face and gave an embarrassed shrug. “We will make it through this”, Dorathion announced, a smile playing on his lips. “We are family. A house united can weather the assault of the greedy, grasping and deluded. Garrel’s faction is built on empty promises and hateful rhetoric, ours on blood. Atar will grant us triumph, and after we are done the Empire will be stronger for it. Trust my words.” This garnered a cheer from everyone present. For the first time in days, Reginald dared to hope. “However”, the champion continued, his smile vanishing. “After some consideration, I think it is time that I share monumental news. This may be good for us, or it may be bad, depending on how we handle it.” He looked down and reached a hand to touch the raven looming over Mullhaven. “I have reason to believe that it was Garrel or his men who killed King Mennas of Gnomeland. I believe they have the Pillar of Light.”
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Post by Timeon on Jan 27, 2017 2:14:30 GMT
Chapter 12 - The Fire RisesA fire had started somewhere in the Mansion of Kings, Presidents and Lord Protectors. It had gone undetected for too long. Now there was no escaping it. The conflagration had come. One had only to decide whether to master the fire, or to die in it. Within the Empire of Atar, the city of Terevin had nearly been reduced to embers. Theocrats, anarchists and zealots had risen up to die in the name of their Pretender, Garrel the Raven Prince. And die they did, stomped beneath the boots of the Second Legion. And yet, just beyond the Empire's borders, the Raven Prince marshalled his armies in Mullhaven. The shadow Garrel cast over the Empire was all too similar to the one that had been cast by his mentor. It had been twenty years since Garrel had been kidnapped from Melland. The Blackbird was gone, but his mark had been made. The war was yet to truly begin. Turning south, Gnomeland stood as if a world unto itself. It had gone silent, the air sucked from its lungs with the shock of regicide. The King was dead. Opportunists rallied to the perceived carrion, while bureaucrats tightened their grip upon the reins of their power. They had been blinded by the explosion, an explosion which now threatened to end an era. And so they failed to act. In Mennastur, King Marley Merniso plotted his second crown. His crown was the horned metal circlet of Foral'tir, but now he desired to wear the Skull Crown. Standing across from it, Marley spent many hours in silence. He always found himself pondering Bura's eternal skeletal grin. Marley wondered if Bura was privy to a private joke. And he wondered what choice the Skull Crown would make when the time came. Marley the Bastard, or Marley the Great? Soaring westwards, across the Tradesea, Minaerum seethed yet again. The strings so carefully placed by Mennas had suddenly been cut. Minaerum threatened to explode. Its Lord Protector, Eyran Seawind, had secluded himself within the Steel City. Rivals scrambled to replace him. The fragile peace that Mennas had built could too easily be broken with a single stray arrow. No, better behind my walls, Eyran thought. He had been with the Hawksteeth Legion once. Familiarity had put him in Mennas' good graces, and had made Eyran a safe bet as Mennas' puppet. Now, that connection to Mennas had become Eyran's greatest liability. The strings had been cut. The jackals reared their heads, manes bristling. And Eyran hoped that his old friend, Gery Hawksteeth, now Marshal of Foral'tir, would remember him. Further west still, the Serene King, Gazi Hasir, contended with a world that was changing once more. He had escaped a great many fires. This one would require new strategies, new ambitions. Much of Hasir's rakshasa habits had remained with him, and standing upon his palace balcony, subjects below might yet mistake him for a proud feline lord surveying his domain. He was a lord protecting his pride, for inside his palace, his descendants found themselves in cautious exile. Minerva, Mafalga and Miranda, his half-gnomish granddaughters, and their rakshasa brother Merros, all feared returning to Gnomeland in the wake of their father's death. They dared not underestimate Marley Merniso. Finally, in the south, Xhas'wlef stood upon the brink of a new age. An industrial revolution, perhaps. But a different sort of change had come to rest upon its doorstep as well. A long lost daughter had come home, bringing company. The prodigal daughter, TumTum. As she entered into the city with her companions, trained eyes followed. The eyes of the iron state of Richard Cipher. Perhaps the eyes of Richard himself. There was great upheaval and consequence in these mortal kingdoms and domains. And yet, in the northeast of the world, isolated in a great sea, two lone islands hosted a meeting of equal importance - a meeting which connected the destinies of all the troubled lands beyond. Redwind Isle and Redrock Isle lay like orphaned brothers amidst a boiling sea. Redrock Isle was the runt, long ignored. How could it not be ignored, when Redwind Isle was the namesake of Richard Cipher, who had saved the world? Or the original Redwind, who had freed Talland? Redrock Isle was smaller, too. But its residents did not consider it any less important. Upon Redrock Isle's highest hill stood a crumbling fortress which had once been garrisoned with Gnomeland’s unwanted soldiers. Approaching its sagging ramparts partially hidden in fog was a lone hooded figure, a hammer slung across its back. Dakara paused under the arches, noting that the architecture was clearly from the era of King Mafalgo. You could tell from those arcs at the tops of the pillars on either sides of the doorway. She doubted any of the others would appreciate it as much. They would likely hate this place simply for being Gnomish, and yet Richard's palace in Xhas'Wlef had been built by imperialist Gnomes. Oh, he would claim he knew it was a contradiction. The deeper irony would be lost on him. A courtyard yawned before her, dank, overgrown and unwelcoming. Where light would have once streamed down, a pair of giant trees had entwined themselves above. Sitting on the toppled statue of some long forgotten lord, Dakara found the person she expected the least. And recognised the least, at that. "I did not know you would be coming." Dakara huffed, straightening her back. Wiping her brow, she hobbled to sit beside the black-haired young man. Once seated next to him, Dakara spied the grey in his hair and the telltale signs of age around his eyes. But Matthias Swiftstrings was a human. Not a young man anymore, not really. But he still looked like one next to her. "Seventeen years since our last meeting." Matthias placed a pipe into his mouth. He snapped his fingers to light it. He leaned onto her with exaggerated affection. "Miss me?" "I thought to play it safe, and assume you died somewhere in the Far West”, Dakara said with a genuine shrug. Then she stiffened, and Matthias must have felt it since he edged away again. "I always wonder, Matthias. If you had been brave enough to face Taronis with the rest of your friends, would you have learned a sense of duty? Maybe you would have stayed on as one of our ministers, instead of running away when we needed you most." "Let's be honest, Dakara." Matthias took a deep puff. Then he blew smoke too close to her face. "Probably not. No disrespect meant." "Matthias!" a deep voice. A happy one. Brokk walked into the fort, his brow deeply lined with age. He was wearing the Merniso family armour they had taken from Marley's Mansion, though it seemed bigger on his old body now. "Come ‘ere!" Matthias turned towards him, allowing Dakara to catch a proper glimpse of his eyes. They were still white, a gift or curse from the Fae. He seemed to be in the habit of using the brim of his hat to hide them. The bard pondered his chances, then decided to go in for the hug, which he survived. Brokk looked to Dakara, who shook her head. They settled on a solemn nod instead, followed by a handshake which Dakara made sure to not let last too long. It was still slightly longer than she would have liked. Brokk's stint as Lord Protector of Talland some years ago had not made him any less enthusiastic about his friends. It had caused some diplomatic incidents, such as when the ambassador of Haak was literally hugged to death. Dorathion Ash naturally made quite an entrance, teleporting into the heart of the keep. Flakes of bright magic gushed outwards as he stepped into the courtyard. The performance would have been more impressive had Dakara not seen through the illusion magic. Ash dusted off his scarlet robe, white hair worn slightly longer than during his travels with the Rising Fire. For some reason he had returned to using an eyepatch. This one had gold stitched into it. Of all the people in attendance so far, the years seemed to have treated Ash the best. He was not quite middle-aged, looked healthy, and seemed to lack any misgivings about this meeting based on the look on his face. Around his left wrist was a silver marriage chain in the style of those married in the rites of Atar. Eighteen small jewels were attached to it: one for each anniversary spent together with his wife. "The hour is late." he remarked, surveying the room. "Tell me where is Richard, for I much desire to speak with him." Nobody answered, for it was obvious that Richard was not even expected to turn up. To him, they had all betrayed the Revolution in some form. Ash placed his hands behind his back, then seemed to realise that by making such an entrance, the pressure was now on him to continue the conversation. An awkward pause. "Meow." said Ash. "Right?" Matthias coughed on his pipe, chuckling. "When did you get a sense of humour, Ash? Especially self-aware humour." Another wave of magic, and the canopy of leaves above the courtyard parted. Light streamed down, guiding the steps of Hechin, who walked on air down towards them. His world-saving scimitar was still faithfully strapped to his belt. He was not dressed ostentatiously, and aside from magic jewelry and his holy symbol he had little apparrel. He was known to dress more impressively for official appearances before rulers, but it seemed he had kept it simple this time. His face looked somewhat less youthful than it had two decades ago, but compared to everyone else he was untouched by time. When he came to a halt before them, he bowed slightly. "Friends." he said. Then to a corner of the room. "And acquaintances." Out of the gloom stepped the figure who Hechin had identified - an ancient orc. And a familiar one. Arosh, visiting out of retirement. Instead of the intimidating adamantite armour he had once worn, he instead had simple leather clothes, not unlike those of a simple farmer. "I'm here on behalf of Richard Redwind." croaked Arosh, eyes as misty as Matthias' own, though for another reason entirely. The fact that it was TomTom was obvious, and not just because of Arosh. It was also because TomTom had always been the one to refer to Richard as Redwind, rather than Cipher. "Then we are all here." Dakara stated, clasping her hands before her in a gesture of peace. "I have called for this meeting in light of Mennas' Wake." She studied their reactions as she said that, her gaze coming to rest on Arosh. The orc's shrunken face revealed no emotion, however. It was Brokk who showed the most, his brow furrowed as never before. And then, he heaved a mournful sigh, placing a hand over his face. "They tried to kill him during a skiing holiday at Clearclyffe. The first assassination attempt. He had invited me along." Then he groaned through his fingers, his voice accusatory. "He had invited you all along. To reunite the team. And only I accepted. Well, as we went down those slopes with assassins pursuing us on skis it was just like old times. I don't know if I saved his life there, if he even needed me... but maybe if I had been in Mennastur-" "Brokk!" Dakara snapped, almost hoarse herself. "Don't make this harder. If I had been there, I couldn't have... couldn't..." Brokk finally hugged her. She accepted, for a second. "You were the only one to accept his invitation to go skiing. Don't waste your tears on this lot here. Do you know what Mennas said, before he died? Dear friends, I hope you are watching me now. We stood together against Taronis, men and women of all nations. I miss you, Brokk, Richard, Dorathion, Hechin. That is what he said. And then he died." A pregnant pause. Dakara dared any one of them to contest her. She had called this meeting, had brought them together in good faith. And already, without any of them having to say a word, she was doubting the point, and doubting herself. Most of all, her attention was on TomTom, Richard's lackey. If disrespect would come, it would come from him. But after several more moments, the tension evaporated. "I'm sorry." Dakara's shoulders slumped and age almost caught up with her. She stumbled only slightly, and was glad nobody moved to help her. "The King is dead." "A friend is dead." Dorathion stated. "I put on a strong face. Some of us played politics against one another, sometimes together. But against friendship, it was a game." "Yes." Brokk spoke the words slowly, deliberately. "We were friends. All of us. We may not all have travelled together at the same time. But we saved the world. We shared hardship nobody else will ever understand. And hard truths." "Not all of us." Ash intercepted, catching them all by surprise. Dakara cocked her head and narrowed her eyes as Ash gesticulated. "Let's make no mistake. Some of us are bound by friendship. Others, by hate." "Come on." Brokk said, brow furrowing yet further, somehow. "Be reasonable." Ash pointed a long-nailed finger at TomTom. "I never bore ill will towards TomTom. Until now. Until the murder of King Mennas." "Hold now, friend." Arosh's voice turned half-demonic, the being within growling his words. "Remember yourself, Ash. And remember me." "You should have stayed dead, TomTom." Ash said, sparing a look towards Hechin, and then to Dakara, relying on her status as a Paladin for understanding. He had assumed too much in that regard, however. Dakara had lost her faith long ago. Ash forgetting such a crucial detail was almost insulting. Brokk put a hand on Ash's shoulder. "Let's never stop being thankful he found a way to come back. Mennas died with friendship on his lips." TomTom threw his possessed host's head back, and his laugh was guttural. Unnatural. "Mennas this. Mennas that. Fuck Mennas. And passing on a message, from Richard Redwind, excuse me when I say, fuck you all." Dakara could have heard a pin drop. "Wow." Matthias said, standing up. "I regret coming. I actually thought it might have been nice, despite of the circumstances. Now I remember why I always end up leaving." With a single step, Matthias vanished into the Plane of Shadows. "Now look what you've gone and done!" Brokk, ever the calm one, was losing his patience. Dakara braced herself for Hell to break loose, only to note that everyone was expecting her to be the one to unleash it. Noticing that, she chose to remain calm, this once. "I'll forgive you for that, TomTom. Not the bit about fucking the party, or me. The bit about Mennas." "Not my most charming or tactful moment." TomTom admitted, his orcish body scratching its chin awkwardly. "And I suppose it isn't fair. The truth is, Richard considered the lot of you to have betrayed the Revolution the day you reprimanded him for melting that bank guard's face off in Braveport. Not when you joined Mennas. I wouldn't have melted that guard's face myself, but I understood Richard when he did it. I murdered Torweld Weiss and I won that revolution for you lot. Doing that put Ironclad in power in Sesbritch. It put Ironclad at the negotiating table with Leopold Prowess, and with you. I murdered and I killed and I lied and I cheated. And it averted a way more violent civil war." "Your point?" Hechin, speaking up. Angelic in appearance and in mission, but as always, straight to the point. He had never liked TomTom. "My point." TomTom said. "Is that you're all still judging me for coming back as undead. When you should have been judging me long before that. Oh, I know you were, Hechin. But now Ash is insulting me to my face. Insulting Richard. And if I am understanding right, he's accusing us of being involved in Mennas' death." "You're right." Ash said. "I am." Now Dakara felt her temper rising. It was rising at the tiny possibility, however remote, that Ash might be onto something, and that Richard had somehow been involved. "You'd better explain yourself, Ash." Dorathion Ash began to pace. "Bear with me. I know this is complicated business. But these are complicated times. And much is at stake. The world, yet again. Whether that is obvious or not. I'm sorry to report to you all, my friends and foes alike, that the Pillar of Light is what killed King Mennas Merniso." "What?" Dakara barked, reaching for her hammer instinctively, as if Ahriman himself had descended from the skies above. She calmed herself for but a moment. "Richard would normally be the one to blame Ahriman for this." "No, I'm not blaming Ahriman or Taronis." Ash said. "Just the Pillar of Light. The Raven Prince has it, I am afraid. And I have it on good authority that Richard's adoptive daughter, TumTum, confessed playing a part in the King's death. The very least evil I can imagine here is that Richard knew the assassination was going to happen, but played no direct part in it." Dakara found herself following Ash's tale already. Terrence Kingsgrace had succumbed to his emotions and had run off with the kobold girl after freeing a Warden by the handle of Pike. From what Dakara gathered, TumTum had claimed to not have knowingly played a part in Mennas' death. She had been a tool. And Terrence had freed her out of pity and friendship. And Pike the Warden had been a clueless pawn to a rebellion, one meaning to take advantage of the King’s death. A rebellion of Wardens! Had Richard supplied a revolt in an attempt to try and pin the blame on the Colonies, his great enemy? To turn Gnomeland further against a mutual foe? Pike had escaped with TumTum. There was a level of guilt which both TumTum and Pike carried which could not be forgiven. And now Dakara's star pupil, Mennas' adoptive son Terrence, was helping regicidal assassins and revolutionaries. It was entirely possible that Richard and the Raven Prince, Garrel, had set this plan into motion using a series of unknowing puppets to cover their tracks. Mercenaries, friends and halfwits. All part of a bigger picture. "Why would Garrel want Mennas dead?" Dakara began, but then knew the answer before Ash had said it. Dakara glanced toward TomTom, expecting him to butt into the conversation with denials and such. Instead he remained quiet, his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face. "If Garrel and Richard are allied, both of them Atarite heretics, then the only way for their alliance to succeed..." ".. Is for Gnomeland not to intervene in the Imperial Civil War." Ash finished for her. "For Marley Merniso to bicker with Mennas' daughters over the Gnomish throne, keeping Eral'tir, Foral'tir and Purrsia focused away from Richard and Garrel, while blaming the Colonies. This is a play for power by the most obvious manipulators left in this world." "TomTom." Brokk stated, his voice monotone, but his face told all. "TomTom, tell them it isn't so." "It isn't." TomTom replied instantly. "Obviously! Richard is a brilliant man and a hero, a champion of Sa'vard. A man with a vision. Redwind's Heir. Destined! He is all of these things, but one thing he is not is a liar and a cheater. A traitor." Dorathion Ash smirked, putting one foot before the other. "Exactly. Richard has the means, motivation and the resources. But maybe not the manipulative depths. He doesn't have the heart for it. But I'll tell you all who does. TomTom does. And Charlie the Blackbird. Through TomTom, we have Richard. Through Charlie, we get Garrel. And I suspect, my friends, that Charlie is still out there, pulling strings. Just like TomTom." After Garrel had appeared in Mullhaven with his army and killed its ruling council, news had travelled very fast. Garrel hired bards and paid for them to be transported to all the foreign capitals, to sing of his coming and of how he had slain his former mentor Charlie with his own hands. The crime of his kidnapping had not been forgiven, even if it had been justified. "Do you ask for Emperor Reginald's abdication? The abdication of all who served the Godshards?" Garrel had cried to the Atarite heretics of Mullhaven, his own legions scouring the city for dissent. "I implore you to do so! Take back the Empire! It's yours!" Charlie was dead. Or so Garrel would have the world believe. One way or another, Charlie lived on through him. Dakara's hammer was in hand. She was no barbarian, but she might pass for one, as rage became her. "This sounds rather plausible. Wasn't it you, TomTom, who schemed in life to use the Hawksteeth Legion to slaughter the Templar of Mektin? And invite the Empire of Atar to invade Talland afterwards? You were a Whisperer in training, once, planning to betray Talland. Capable of doing anything to anyone, if you think it suits your vision of the greater good." "Yes." Hechin said. "You chose undeath, thinking yourself the only one who could end slavery in Xhas'wlef." "That's exactly what I did." TomTom said. "I ended slavery in Xhas'wlef. And I was going to invite the Empire to Talland only so that they could stop Ahriman. Nobody else would have been powerful enough to try. In fact, I died trying." "Yes." Ash said. "You played tricks in the shadows. All for the greater good. Now you scheme with Charlie Blackbird to bring anarchy and ruin to Gnomeland and the Empire! To end the final form of slavery left in this world. Monarchy as we know it." "Outrageous." TomTom hissed. "At this point, I don't think I'd put anything past you." Hechin said wearily. "Brokk?" TomTom looked to his apparent final ally. But Brokk looked away. "I'm good at pulling strings, as they say. At making things happen. At killing people. Yes." TomTom said. "But I would not waste my time killing Mennas purely because he was a King." When TomTom looked about him, he found himself alone. At last, he looked to Dakara. "I am good at pulling strings, Dakara. But I am not good at standing up to an inquisition." "You died to escape one, if I recall correctly." Ash added helpfully. "You were set to go on trial in Talland after the revolution." "Yeah, thanks a lot for that." TomTom added. "Thanks a lot, all of you. Some friends. I literally died for you." "So did I!" Ash huffed, pointing at the eyepatch. "Many times. But when I die for the last time, I won't become a demon, unlike you. Though I suspect you already are one." "... And the only reason I am still around after completing my mission to end slavery, is because Richard needs me." TomTom continued. "Not as a tool. But as a friend. He named a city after me. An entire city." "Yes, and he hated Mennas so much, he couldn't even show up to this meeting during his wake." Dorathion Ash proclaimed. "One way or another, the charade is over. We will have our vengeance. And you'll go to the afterlife you've been avoiding like the terrified worm you've become." It was then that Dakara received a Sending, directly from Javel. Informing her that TumTum and Terrence Kingsgrace, who they had been spying upon, had just arrived in New Braveport in Xhas'wlef, and were on their way to meet Richard. "I see where this is going. But you know what? You did all betray the Revolution. I am glad he's dead." TomTom clucked a short laugh. "Just wish I could have done it myself." Dakara raised her hammer, roaring in despair. She expected him to vanish, or to block the blow, or for someone to interrupt. He just stood there, his white eyes staring at her. Seconds before the blow landed, the eyes cleared and Dakara sensed a presence escape him. Her hammer crushed the old orc's head in, spraying blood and gore over her face and chest. A single whisper blew the broken leaves about them. "The Fire Rises." TomTom's original voice. "With or without you."
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Post by Sp00ky on Jan 29, 2017 0:08:42 GMT
Interlude ”Remembrance” New Orsad, Empire of Atar
The air was cold but soothing as Dorathion Ash returned from meeting the Rising Fire on Redrock Isle. As the slowly setting sun touched the distant horizon, it bathed the streets and spires of New Orsad in colors both gold and crimson. The markets had long since closed, and would not reopen until the onset of dawn, making it possible to enjoy the view without being reminded of how tense things had actually become. Support to the false emperor Garrel was rampant, and imperial staff and symbols had been assaulted. The First Legion retaliating with public executions had only increased the threat of a riot, but perhaps the news of what had happened in Terevin would make any potential insurgents reconsider the folly of open revolt. Perhaps now the Emperor would at last take the threat posed by Garrel seriously. His inaction would have been amusing, had it not cast the nation into a crisis which now threatened the integrity of the state itself. Events were not unfolding as Ash had hoped, which was why he needed time to think.
Atop the bulwarks of the new Imperial Palace, Ash was able to observe New Orsad in its entirety. Though construction efforts were still ongoing in many parts of the city, and would likely remain so for several years yet, the united efforts of magi, legionnaires and ordinary citizens had turned a glorified camp into a symbol hope. It was a massive and expensive undertaking, in which he had often been actively and financially involved It was a token not lost in the minds of the citizenry, which was exactly what Ash wanted. He had been standing there for hours now, embracing every detail, sound and smell. This was where he went when in need of clarity, something the events of the last two weeks had made frustratingly urgent.
“Do you like what you see, beloved?” a honeyed voice abruptly asked him, as a pair of tender arms made their way around his waist. “Do you feel the glory of what you have wrought?”.
“I would” he replied as he slowly turned to face his visitor “was I not burdened by worry and tidings of doom”. The face of Sophia, his devoted spouse, seemed to glow in the light of the sunset. She was beautiful. When asked what it was that had first endeared her to him, Ash was never able to provide a definitive answer. During their first years it was clearly the political advantages, as her father had sound connections within Imperial society. These days however, it was her ability to calm him down and soothe his nerves. Though she had thus far been unable to grant him children, forcing him to look elsewhere for that blessing, there was little doubt that his devotion to her was as firm as it had been when their union had first been made. “Everything seems so, meaningless now”.
“Don’t say that” she protested with firmness “I know that Filippos’ death grieves you still, but there was nothing you could have done to foresee that” as she spoke she held him ever tighter, before reaching for his chin and stroking it gently “Besides, with you being Champion, Reginald would never dare to move against you directly”.
“Not directly perhaps” Ash replied “But one thing has become clear; his memory is not as short as I had once suspected”
“What do you mean?” She asked inquisitively, her tone now strained by apparent unease “What happened?”
"Reginald went into a rage before I met the Rising Fire, cursing them for pushing for the election of Filippos." Ash stiffened under her touch as he spoke, anger flaring. "I could feel the implication, the message directed my way. Convince your friends to stop Garrel, for it was your doing above all. He has not forgiven it."
"And what did you tell the Rising Fire?" Sophia asked, placing a delicate hand to her mouth.
"The truth, my dearest" Ash said, taking her hands in his. "That Garrel has the Pillar of Light. And that Xhas'wlef aided Garrel in the murder of Mennas. And I am afraid that Garrel did not just find the Pillar. It must have been given to him.”
Nothing in the world could have taken Sophia's attention away from him in that moment.
"By who?"
"Well, let us just say that the Silver Protocol is investigating that as we speak.""
“But..” Sophia's eyes betrayed terror "How could you know this?"
"My personal inquisitor." Dorathion said softly. "She has someone in Garrel's inner circle."
“But what will you do?”
"My duty to God, as his Champion. Just as I saved this world in the past, so too will I save this Empire now” Sophia was about to speak once more, but found herself silenced by a gentle kiss upon the forehead. As the sun finally vanished, the two made their way towards their living quarters. On this day at least, they would speak no further of fear and doom.
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Post by Zula on Feb 4, 2017 13:39:31 GMT
Prologue - II Part 3, Richard.
Decrees, missives and other documents littered the top of his desk all lit by the yellow fire of an oil lamp. From his study within the palace of government, surrounded by his libraries, the man behind the desk decided to work extra hours. The light of the moon shone through the painted glass windows, shining upon the map of Xhas’Wlef on his wall.
Then he heard the crackling sound of thunder in the distance.
Surprised, but never startled by that familiar sound, he turned around towards the windows. The night was supposed to be clear, wasn’t it? As he walked towards the window he not only heard it again, but saw how, near the harbor, a single bolt of lightning vanished in the air. An amusing sight, he thought, and turned around towards his desk.
But as he sat, he heard the thunder again and again within a matter of seconds, every time louder than before.
He then realized the decrees, missives and documents that littered his desk were no longer illuminated by the orange light of oil.
The windows broke inwards and glass flew everywhere.
In nothing but a second he found himself holding a bolt of lightning at bay with his bare hands.
A familiar feeling.
Around him, the sheer pressure of the lightning was wrecking his office, but that could not distract him from the fact something unnatural was moving the lighting forward. He concentrated and slapped it, throwing an increasingly humanoid shape towards the walls of his study.
There retching against the wall he saw a familiar figure: Richard Cipher.
The Chairman of the People’s Republic of Xhasl’Wlef looked haggard and pale, his face marked with scars which were still a raw pink, not having healed fully. He was dressed in a dirty set of clothes that looked like those of a sailor. After he finished throwing up, and looked his foreign minister straight into his eyes.
“You!” His voice almost turning the word into an animalistic hiss.
Richard stared at Prime Minister Zanathan, the man he’d left his charge during his absence. But from his tone, one might have thought it was Ahriman himself whom he’d found in this office.
“Mister Chairman, glad to see you are alive, and mostly well.” The mongrel replied as he dusted glass away from his cloak, trying to keep his voice calm. Despite his best attempts his brown skin had turned a little pale, and his homely face was taut.
“How much did they pay you? How much did they give you?” The Chairman screamed, saliva still falling from his mouth, barely managing to stand.
Zanathan looked at him, his gaze unshakable and tilted his head to the side inquisitively
“I don’t know what you are talking about Mister Chairman, I think it would be well for you to calm down and lis-”
Suddenly Zanathan’s felt a force throw him against the wall
“Tell me who bought your loyalty, and I may spare your life”, Richard said, his mind concentrated on keeping the Minister under his hold.
“What the fuck are you talking about Mister Chairman?”
“The war, the peace you brought upon us. Who made you sign it?”
“The peace? Is this about the treaty?”
“HOW DARE YOU? How dare you call this a peace? Our only port down south, sold out, like all their inhabitants to that deranged council of Wardens. How, how could you?” Richard said tightening his hold over the minister’s throat “Did you sell me out, just like you sold out the notables from New Mafalgonia?” He rolled his eyes at the word ‘notables’. Before the coming of Arosh, the halfbreed had effectively been a mob enforcer. “Wh-?”
“Enough.” Zanathan replied.
“You are in no position to say that!” Richard bellowed, but as he blinked for a second he saw Zanathan was no longer in front of him.
“With all due respect Mister Chairman, I think you need to calm the fuck down.” Zanathan’s familiar voice spoke out behind him as the familiar feeling of an elbow hitting him in the neck dropped Richard into the ground.
“Yes I sold out, every single one of them. Fat gnomish bastards, they deserved what Arosh gave them and worse. I sold them to the Revolution, the Revolution you inspired and now lead. And which I saved from falling apart like a house of cards.”
In the distance the sound of guards moving around the hallway became increasingly near. He would have to finish this situation before they arrived, otherwise things could get complicated.
“Saved? Ha ha ha”, Richard laughed from the floor, as he attempted to stand up with no success.
“Yes, Saved. Do you even have the faintest idea of what happened after you left the stage?” He replied, slightly irritated.
“Half the fleet sunk, me with it, and you decided to sell everything, thinking me dead.”
“Dead? We thought you were erased from the face of earth. We tried everything to find you. We spent months looking for you; what was left off our fleet had barely avoided sinking. We were in such a position I had to sink a Turnian scout ship outside of the harbor just to prove the point that advancing towards the capital was a bad idea.”
“Good job. I should give you a medal”, Richard said, rolling around as blood trickled from his mouth. He could feel old wounds opening up.
“Then, when no one could find you, the priests of Wlef began to say you were erased. A whole regiment was slaughtered by nomads while going south to reinforce the war effort, Tun’kashal captured and General Iris Rathuon murdered by Whisperers.”
“Wait, what?”
“We cut our losses Mister Chairman, it was either a fruitless and increasingly difficult war effort with the looming threat of a civil war with foreign intervention or a bitter peace so we could lick our wounds.” He explained carefully in an attempt to calm him down.
“Iris is dead?”
“I just told you so, murdered by Whisperers. But that's besides the point, you see.”
“Besides the point?” He spoke interrupting him as he stood up, pain searing through his sides. “Let me see if I got this right: a foreign power aligned with Gnomeland assassinated one of our generals, while a bunch of nomadic savages attacked our army in the middle of a war against a land which clearly Gnomeland has a stake in, and which by no coincidence is also a nation known to be pro Gnomeland.”
“How are you standing? I hit your neck and cast a holding spell on you.” Zanathan asked, his expression surprised.
“I got more important stuff to do than argue with you. I must go save our Court Wizard and slay Reginald.”
“Are you insane?” Zanathan said, grabbing Richard by his ragged clothes “You will doom it all, you can’t just go and start two wars at the same time, for gods’ sake Richard you are not an adventurer, you are a ruler. I forbid you from going.”
“Tell me now, when the guards come through the door? Who would they obey? Their Chairman? Or one known ex Gnomish collaborator?”
“How can you continue to believe I am against you? Do you think the nomads or Wlefists hold any love for me? For the council? For them we are YOUR pawns, pawns of a foreigner with delusions of grandeur. A Tyrant.”
“Yes, a Tyrant. That’s what people call me, what people see in me. But Tyrant or not I shaped Xhas’Wlef into what it is now.”
“If you go now you will prove them all right, you are doing this for amusement not for your ideals. You will be one Dictator more, another stub of history.”
The doors smashed open and armed guards poured into the room, their faces distraught and surprised.
“Minister, and Chairman? What is going on?” A guard asked.
“I have just returned and was debating with the Vice Chairman Zanathan about how to proceed with the peace signing.”
“Vice Chairman?” A chorus of voices including Zanathan asked.
“We will discuss the details later, now I must leave.”
“What about the lighting strike?” Someone asked.
“Bah, tell them it was Wlef it's the first thing they will think anyways.”
He heard words on his way out, but he did not care. He walked through the dark hallways of the Palace, until standing on top of a decorative table a familiar feline figure stood.
“I am proud of you, you could have killed the man and started a gigantic war. But you didn’t”, said Aedelfelt, floating towards Richard’s shoulder.
“Thank you, remind me of how much my life sucks.”
“What now?.”
“Now, I will go see TumTum so I remember what’s at stake if I go on a rampage.”
“Making me prouder every second.”
“And then…”
“Then?”
“‘I am going to wait.”
“Wait? For what?”
“For my dish to get cold.”
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Post by kerrah on Feb 13, 2017 19:58:47 GMT
Chapter 13 Gods and KingsTerrence Kingsgrace could not help but hold his breath every few seconds. He had expected many things from the capital of Xhas'wlef, but the one thing which had not crossed his mind was the smell. The party huddled together, Pike's illusion magic making them look like a gaggle of races that would blend right into the area. TumTum had been turned into a goblin, and Pike into a kobold. Terrence himself had become a tengu. Most of New Braveport was wooden buildings with stone foundations, though mud huts became increasingly common in the outer parts of town. According to TumTum, the slums of the city had fourteen years ago shown signs or growing layers and sub-floors like in Mafalgonia, but Richard had done a forced census of all who lived there and enforced strict construction codes to avoid a sub-city from being born. The measures had been wildly succesful. While someone coming from a marble Elven city might think this place was just the same as the likewise exotic Tannhäuser, it was fairly obvious that New Braveport didn’t have the trouble with gangs. The broad streets of the city were wide open and you could drive two horse carriages through them side-by-side. Even thick crowds moved through them at a fairly good pace, and the soldiers would demolish any booths that extended too far from the buildings. Every here and there, banners hung above the streets with pictures painted of Richard, TomTom or members of the People’s Council. "First thing comes first. We need to find someplace to sleep", TumTum advised as they weaved through the crowd. Pike was in the rear of the troupe, the only other party member with reliable experience of Xhas'wlef. There was a look of utter disgust on his kobold face that Terrence was sure he shared. If tengu faces could show disgust, that was; he had not met many in Gnomeland. There were a few in the mountains around Mennastur, part of a treaty Mennas had signed with Sable to get help against the Clockwork Army. "I hope you've got someplace in mind to stay at. Other than your father's citadel", Terrence stated, nearly bumping into a hobgoblin. "No worries." TumTum shot him a peevish look. "Like I said, we're not just going to walk in there." In case he actually did murder my father, Terrence thought. The possibility had created a painful divide between him and TumTum. Though estranged, TumTum somehow still felt some loyalty to her father. Unfortunate, but understandable. "Hey!" Pike shouted and darted to the side. He grabbed a gnoll by the wrist. "Thief!" The hyena-headed beast cackled and tried to make a break for it, but Pike planted his fist in its stomach. The gnoll doubled back, dropping a coin purse. Terrence realised that it was his own. He was one of the only party members with any money on him, which everyone expected him to contribute for the greater good. Pike handed it back to him as the gnoll scampered off. "Got to keep your eyes open. Soon you'll learn who and what to look out for." They passed a company of orcs wearing the military uniform of the state, holding halberds as they cleared a path through the street. In a Xhas’wlefian twist on military fashion, the soldiers had the skulls of some kind of bird hanging from their polearms in the place of banners to mark their regiment. TumTum pulled her friends aside as the orcs passed, surrounding a hobgoblin dressed in ceremonial garb. "A member of the council", She hissed to them. "Don't want to give them any excuse to chop of our heads off." "The Mystic Council has been replaced by the People's Council”, Pike scoffed. Soon, they reached what seemed to be a market district. Tengu merchants from Sable squawked their wares, lifting some of the finest goods in sight for all to see. An ogre babbled in Orcish while pointing at a series of trinkets. A gnome with a pig's nose, some mongrel creature, danced in the street while juggling balls. Sometimes children would throw stones at him, and he would squeak in fake terror, eliciting laughter, coins and racial slurs. "Degenerate." Pike hissed. "This is what my people here are reduced to." "Not all of them!" TumTum gestured, rounding on him. "Besides, I know how kobolds tend to be seen in Gnomeland. As entertainers, jesters or as the butts of jokes. Or as fetish objects." "Fetish objects?" Ulias' eyes went wide. "Some people have a thing for kobolds." TumTum said with a shrug. Feeling the need to change the topic, Terrence bumped into her to push her out of the way of some oncoming bugbears. "Watch out, those might be pickpockets too", he whispered hastily. The first place TumTum took them to was ramshackle and the common room had more livestock than people inside it. Goblins ran amongst the feet of the animals and two orcs were dealing in illegal mushrooms at the back corner. Terrence put his foot down and demanded something better. "The only person who could sleep in there is the rat man”, he spat, realising he was going to have to apologise to Robin once he calmed down, and not caring. "Watch it." Lenona's fists were bunched. "That's my fiancé." "That's not my fault." Terrence said. "Come on, Ter." TumTum had her hands on her hips. "This isn’t how I remember you acting." "Well, the TumTum I remember wouldn't get my father killed by importing gunpowder to Gnomeland for her tyrant father”, Terrence said through gritted teeth, though he would have shouted it had they not been close to cityfolk. They were still drawing attention. "Enough." Pike's voice was sharp, devoid of emotion. "We're all going to die if we keep acting the way we've been acting. For better or worse, this is a team now. Follow me. I saw a place that suits our needs." Ulias was the first to follow, then Lenona and Robin. Terrence and TumTum were left staring at one another. "TumTum, I-" "Save it." She marched off. The inn they settled for was run by a catfolk. Pike admitted it was what tipped him off that the place might be cleaner, and he was right. Once settled in and given food, the party assembled in their shared room. Ter found himself given the cold shoulder by just about everybody, save for Pike. By all rights, Pike the Warden, participant in the Serral revolt, should have been his most bitter foe in the room, instead of his sympathiser. As he grouched, he saw that they were starting to look for Pike's little nods of approval going about whatever it was they were doing. "Give me a light”, Lenona asked of Pike, who complied with a glowing white ball floating above his palm. "Can't see what I'm doing." Sitting on the side of an awful-smelling bed, Terrence wondered what Dakara was thinking now. She would be disappointed in him, no doubt. He had shamed her by bending the Law. Nothing had turned out the way he had planned. There would have been a legal precedent for the break-out as he had imagined it, but then Ulias had knocked the jailor unconscious. Now Terrence had gotten himself mixed up with deplorables. A wererat and a barbarian from Talland, working for the Silver Protocol. A dwarf from Turnia who was afraid of tight spaces. A Gnome from Xhas'wlef who had been arrested for links to the revolt in Serral. And of course, the real reason he was here - TumTum. Every one of them had come to this godforsaken city for different reasons. And Terrence was not yet sure what those reasons really were, or if he could trust any of them. But one thing was certain. Terrence was on the trail of his father's murderer. And he was now able to do what Dakara could not. Dakara's hands were tied; Terrence was free. He could be her sword in the darkness, sacrificing himself so that others would not have to. "What are you smiling about?" Lenona's voice rose at his side. Terrence dropped out of his daydreaming to behold the blonde madwoman before him. "Listen, Lenona”, he began. "I didn't mean to-" "Tell it to Robin." Lenona shook her head and gave her back to Terrence. "I don't care. Not interested in trouble”, Robin said, lying down on his bed with an exhausted look on his face. "Besides, I am actually a rat man. Nothing I haven't heard before. Anyway, listen: We've all gotten off to an uneasy start. People trying to kill us. We're on the trail of murders and assassinations. Some stress is to be expected." "Right. And so it is”, TumTum joined them. "But now we come to it. I've been thinking, and I am really quite aware that you might be right. That my father has some part in this, and that Magelle Moraqshed's death was an attempt to get the Colonies angry at Gnomeland. It's possible. But Robin saw an Akeshafian. As far as I know, Richard doesn't employ many Akeshafians…” “It could be a disguise”, Ter pointed out. “Any number of us could have used Pike’s magic to look like Akeshafians today on the streets of the city.” “But…” Robin hesitated, chewing on his lip, before continuing: “If we’d looked like Akeshafians, that would just draw attention to us, right? Why would anyone disguise themselves as an Akeshafian, if they were trying to be secretive?” TumTum shook her head. “Who knows. But that's beside the point. I just want you all to know I'm not confused about why I'm here. People are trying to kill us. It could be my father behind this, it could be Javel or Marley Merniso, it could be damn well anybody. Could be Ahriman, for all I care. But what I know is that I'm not safe until the truth is out there, for all to see. So don't second guess me." "Wouldn't dream of it”, Pike said with a wink. "So, here's the only sane thing to do. We set up a meeting with Richard. Just TumTum and one other person, so we don't lose everything if it's a trap. The two people we send can't know where the others are, in case they get interrogated. We hire a street urchin to deliver the message. Agreed?" Terrence tried to think of an excuse not to, but found himself voicing consent with the others. Once the matter was settled, he figured it was about time they address the real elephant in the room. "Lenona, Robin, have your superiors contacted you yet?" Lenona crossed her arms as she considered her reply to Terrence. "Yes, but we have been intentionally vague. We don't want to get you in trouble. Or for bureaucracy to ruin our investigation, either." "You should have mentioned that immediately." Terrence steepled his fingers and leaned forward on the bed. "And as you've all probably guessed, it won't be long before the Gnomish police come for us. Gnomeland's been under a lot of strain since King Mennas died, and they're stretched thin, but I have no doubt they've been spying on us this entire time." "And why wouldn't you mention that?" Lenona took a dangerous step towards him. "Because you surely guessed already." Terrence looked up at the ceiling as it was spying on him personally. "Everything we've done has assumed as much. They could be listening in on us right now. But I hope they are, because that might be the reason we're still alive. They'd have figured out by now we aren't the real assassins. Just misfits, in the wrong place at the wrong time. And if you follow the puppet's strings, you get to the puppeteer. They're probably hoping we'll find the killer, or that the killer will find us." Robin paled a little. “This is crazy. How did we get tangled up in all of this?” Lenona glanced toward him, but then spoke to the rest of them: “Some of us should gather everything we can about Akeshafians while we’re here. I guess if everything here falls through, we should go after that lead, right? Unless we want to return to Tannhäuser and interview random people to try to find out if they saw where those two assassins fled to after they saw a fake Javel.” “Don’t wander out alone without someone who speaks Orcish”, Pike interjected, stepping amongst them. “I think Ulias can cast Tongues, but aside from that it leaves me and TumTum as the guides of choice.” The kobold agreed with that. “You can make do with Common in most parts of town, but there’s plenty of people who take it as an offence to hear that tongue. And don’t start trashtalking Richard in public.” Her tone was deadly serious, and her eyes seemed to flutter over to Terrence for a moment as she said it. He rolled his eyes. “Yes yes, I won’t insult their god-king. I’m not stupid, sis.” “Just making sure”, she said in a conciliatory tone. “Now let’s do this carefully and precisely, everyone. We’ve got all the time in the world.”
As Hechin was putting on his ceremonial garb, he couldn’t help but think back to Redrock Isle, and the meeting with his former allies. Words had been said that shouldn’t have. And Dakara… he couldn’t remember when he’d last seen her lose control like that. The poor, mentally challenged orc she’d slain… it was lucky for her soul that Hechin had thought fast enough to breathe life back into him before it was too late. Brokk had taken Arosh with him to Talland, to live the rest of his life in an old folk’s home. Sometimes he wondered if losing her religion had been bad for her. True, the god she had once dedicated herself to had been little better than a scam, but truth had the capacity to hurt just as much as it did to heal. As far as Hechin knew, none of his allies had ever found a way to bypass Zinine’s suppression of the truth, and he knew he wasn’t the only one who’d tried. Hechin’s personal quarters in the Silver Protocol’s private demiplane were not too fancy, but they were large out of necessity. The clothes he’d just put on were those normally reserved for solemn Solarinite rites: nothing too expensive, but impressive and impractical for everyday use. His dark fingers pulled on the silver chain across the chest of his raiments, and his brow furrowed. Could it really be that Richard and TomTom had done all of this? Twenty years ago, after the death of Taronis and Wlef, things had looked like they might work out after all. Maybe it was only through sheer luck that it had taken two whole decades until the peace unraveled. Had he and the others condemned the world to another war with their reluctance to take a stern hand and sort everything out back then? Despite everything, Richard’s involvement seemed unlikely. This sort of subterfuge simply didn’t fit his character. If he believed killing Mennas was justified, he would feel no shame for it and would be loud and proud about the act. TomTom, on the other hand, might actually be responsible. The undead kobold had been known to act behind the others’ backs to do what he thought they were too ‘soft’ to accomplish. Hechin took his inability to find and save Prince Garrel as one of his greatest personal failings, and Garrel’s reappearance onto the world scene was not any help for that. He wondered if Charlie was truly dead. If he was, then no punishment Hell could give him would be bad enough for what he’d done to this poor, lost child. Looking out the window, Hechin watched the garden being taken care of by initiates. It was considered a good way to teach them humility, diligence and care to make them tend to plants before anything else. It also looked nice and provided their kitchens with some produce. The priest wished he could be down there instructing them. But instead, he had the Council to convene with. Turning around, he left the room. The door behind him let out a soft hissing sound after closing, when all the protective enhancements activated, up to and including the air draining out of the space, creating a vaccuum. Hechin passed a few members of the order on the corridors. He recognised most, but a few were strangers. The Protocol had grown past his ability to manage everything and know everyone only a few years into its existence. The council chamber was a great oval-shaped room with a fresco in the ceiling depicting a group of people from all walks of life standing shoulder-to-shoulder against assailing evil outsiders. Originally a Protean had been painted among the villains, but the artist had been told to remove it for fairness’ sake. Now, many were like to think that the gesture toward the spirits of chaos had been too generous. Mahogany chairs lined the sides of the room. At the far end from the entrance was a podium for officiating the meetings, but most of the time it went unused. Hechin had never wanted the organisation to be based around his whims, so the councilors all sat on equal ground during their meetings, him included. He was the last to arrive. Twelve other councilors were spread around the room, each with the silver chain incorporated into their outfit to mark their rank. Two thirds were ones chosen during the founding of the order, while the rest had risen through the ranks naturally. However, a stranger stood amongst them. Ironically, despite the Silver Protocol’s thesis, outsiders were not rare in this demiplane. This one was an angel, though he had quite an unusual look for one. Standing eight feet tall, he had the likeness of one borne from Nirvana, with a goat’s head and birdlike talons and wings. He had an unpleasant face, with squinty eyes that studied Hechin as he entered the room. “Good evening”, Hechin said a little wearily. “No one told me we were seeing a guest.” “I only just arrived, and I shan’t take much of your time”, the angel spoke in turn, wings folding behind him like a cloak as he bowed a little. His voice reverbated through the chamber like it was coming from some deep abyss. “I am Hiram. The High Heavens have elected me to serve as an emissary and messenger in these troubled times. I thought it smart to make the Silver Protocol my first destination…” Despite his apparent politeness, the outsider couldn’t keep a certain amount of derision out of his voice when naming the order. “All planar beings who respect the self-determination of the material plane are welcome here, Hiram”, Hechin spoke by rote. “What message do Heaven, Nirvana and Elysium have, then?” ‘The High Heavens’ was a grandiose term which the good planes used to denote cooperation amongst themselves. Even archons and azatas could get along when the stakes were high enough. The angel looked around the room. He had clearly been conversing with the other councilors before Hechin’s arrival, but none of them seemed keen to step in on this discussion. Stroking his beard, the outsider said: “The High Heavens elected to step back after the incident with Taronis, since many mortals seemed to have lost trust in us. We have kept interaction to a minimum. It seems even the Gods shared this view, as you’ve no doubt noticed. The Material Plane stands more… self-determined than ever before.” “I appreciate your respect for mortals”, Hechin said quietly, in a respectful tone, though he suspected this visitor was being anything but respectful. Hiram gave a slight chuckle and continued: “The consequences of our non-interaction now bear fruit. I have been sent to advise, and to try to help the mortal nations avoid this wreck to which they have steered themselves.” Hechin expected him to continue, but that seemed to be it. One of the councilors let out a slight laugh which was stifled when the angel turned to look that way. “Well”, the cleric spoke carefully. “As long as all you do it advise, and you do not force anyone to follow what you say, you are free to travel the Material Plane as far as I’m concerned. Do you have any advice to give to us?” “For a start”, the angel said, “you should check on your pride, Servant of Solarin. The High Heavens are called so for a reason. This council of yours reeks of mortal hubris. You have set yourself in an external plane from where you judge those who you see as lessers. It is remarkable that I have to point the hypocrisy out to you. At least my kind has some credence to holding ourselves superior to mortalkind.” It all had come out as a single statement, completely moderated in tone and clearly with forethought. It wasn’t a tirade or rant borne of momentary emotion. Hechin was left quite unready to respond. “I shall be gone, now. But do know, all of you, that your rules are only mortal constructs, and are as immaterial as the laws which once governed Thanessa”, Hiram said and turned his back on them to step out of the chamber, brushing past Hechin. “What is this supposed to be? You came here just to insult us?” Cried the outraged voice of a councilor at the back of the room. “You asked for advice, and this is all you shall receive of me”, the outsider said. Once he passed the threshold out of the chamber, he vanished into thin air. Teleporting out of a conversation was a faux pas, but perhaps the concept of manners had been forgotten in Nirvana in the last twenty years. The council reacted with anger and outrage, and it took several minutes to calm everything down. Someone suggested that the movements of this angel be tracked, but Hechin had to hesitantly veto that motion. No matter how rude he was, he was doing nothing wrong or breaking their rules, as things were now. “I get the feeling that anyone he talks to is just going to be that much less well disposed toward outsiders”, he mused as he tiredly walked to his chair, sitting down. The others took seats as well, some having stood out during the exchange with the angel. “Well”, piped out Imelina Worthswind, a halfling out of Eral’tir, rubbing her hands together a little awkwardly since the tension in the room was still quite high. She’d been one of the best positive surprises in the first recruiting period for the Protocol, and was in charge of training initiates right now. “Shall we go through the motions, or get right down to it?” “I think we can skip them tonight”, Hechin said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s been a long day, and this won’t be easy, I think.” Outside the windows, the eternal grey twilight of this demiplane was visible, but back on Sa’vard it was almost midnight. He saw Sother give him an analytical look. The bronze dragon had been his partner-in-crime when they’d first set out to protect the material plane from outsider meddling, but the years had turned him distant. His spy network now ranged from the lands of the giants southwest of Keshan all the way to Endland, and it seemed he was always busy managing them. He procured much useful information, of course, but he’d never been able to find Charlie, Garrel or Areth, son of Bahamut. Hechin suspected that Sother took that even more personally than he himself. “I believe that in the lack of any other direly pressing issues, we shall delay discussion of the planar vampire in the Tempest Isles and the incident with the Jyoti ambassador for tomorrow, and focus entirely on the ongoing series of events”, the dragon spoke in a smooth voice with a slight Keshani accent. He was in his preferred human form, with deep coppery skin and eyes like two pieces of flint. “Mennas’ Wake”, Hechin said distantly, still distracted by Hiram’s words. Brokk had coined that term, hadn’t he? No, it was Dakara. Surprising either way, as neither of them had much of a way with words. An aristocratic laugh erupted across the hall Olinda Kaseridien, who couldn’t be less an elf if she tried, often seemed to find cause for mirth. “Yes, but King Mennas’ passing leaves more than just a wake. Tidal waves would be more accurate, I believe. The Far West ought to be seeing revolutions by now.” “I dearly hope they don’t.” Hechin adjusted his sitting posture slightly, trying to avoid slouching. “Any news on that ground?” He had left to meet the Rising Fire only a few hours ago, but who knows what had taken place while he was in the red islands. His eyes were drawn to Tollan, who was from Gnomeland, but he only gave a shrug. Instead Sother had to pick the slack: “The captives who fled from Mafalgonia are still missing. Nothing new on the investigation on the destruction of the collegium. I have a word from Purrsia that Gazi Hasir may be making an appearance in Gnomeland tomorrow alongside his daughter and grandchildren, so that ought to hike up tensions.” “Also”, said Beatrice Brent, a Tallish woman who had only been in the council for four or so years. “As you may have heard, I’ve been looking into the whereabouts and death of one Magelle Moraqshed, former first-class Warden. Well, it seems Remmeld is not satisfied with the Minaerite investigation into her death. They’ve launched their navy into the seas, though for what purpose, they haven’t said yet.” “That has nothing to do with King Mennas”, Sother said curtly, giving her a cold look. She gave him a flat look and shrugged. “Doesn’t it, though?” Before they could start going at it, Hechin cleared his throat. “All right, well, what I’ve learned in Redrock definitely does have to do with Mennas.” He went on to tell them about Ash’s accusations, TomTom’s behavior, and the conclusions the others had arrived to. He wished he could keep this private, but it was too important to just treat as the Rising Fire’s internal business. “Magelle Moraqshed was killed by a Protean pretending to be an elf. Another tie to Richard Cipher, and this TomTom figure”, pointed out the dwarf Gommon the Grand after the recap ended, fingering his moustaches thoughtfully. Olinda tapped her finger onto the armrest of her chair. “They have proven ties to the man who raised Prince Garrel. Did Dorathion Ash name his sources for the accusation that Garrel has the Pillar?” “Sort of”, Hechin said a little hesitantly. “I asked him about it before he left back into the Empire, and he said he has someone working undercover for Garrel.” “We’d need to know the information source to trust on it”, Sother pondered. “Ash probably won’t share it with us. His first loyalty is with the empire, these days, so he won’t do anything that might endanger his spy”, Hechin admitted and gave a shrug. “Either way, I’ll try to get someone close to Garrel to find out what’s going on”, Sother said. “If he does have the Pillar, the implications will be great. I’ll also try to find out whether Charlie is dead.” A civil war in the Empire was not in the Silver Protocol’s mandate to get involved in, but the Pillar of Light was a Godshard-related artefact, so if it was still around, they had every reason to try to seize it. Charlie was an alchemic lich, or something of the sort, so finding and judging him was certainly in their jurisdiction. A voice even deeper than Sother’s drew the attention of everyone in the chamber. Nunhol of Tunshek was one of the only giants who was a member of the Protocol, and had proven himself more than worthy of his quite remarkable rise into the council. He rarely spoke, but when he did all listened. “Whatever the case… we can’t keep cutting Xhas’wlef slack any more”, the blue-skinned giant rumbled from atop his custom chair which alone weighed more than Hechin’s whole body. The announcement left a tense silence behind. Since Gazi Hasir’s redemption in Purrsia, Xhas’wlef had become the new ‘special case’ in terms of outsider relations. A handful of Proteans still worked for Richard’s government, and thus had power over mortal lives. And TomTom… he was little different from Bura, and the question of whether the Silver Protocol should address him had always hung over this chamber. It was time to answer the question. Hechin opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off by Gommon, who said: “We certainly don’t have enough evidence to just attack Richard’s government over any supposed relation to King Mennas’ death, but we could give all outsiders and undead in Xhas’wlef an official eviction from the material plane, and then try to fleece anything about the Pillar of Light or Charlie Blackbird out of them in the process.” This seemed a popular proposition, to Hechin’s dismay. “Kill two birds with one stone, as it were”, a Hallynite councilor mused. A few people were clearly against it, but the general feeling seemed in favour of the idea. “No”, Hechin interjected. “This situation is too precarious, and Xhas’wlef is a tinderbox already. The nomad tribes rebelled against Richard eight years ago, and he’s keeping down other dissidents at a monthly basis. If we up and demand him to hand TomTom over, the only way to make him comply is to overthrow him and take over the country for ourselves. The suffering caused by a civil war would be much greater than the injustice of TomTom’s continued presence on the material plane.” This was the exact same reason why Gazi Hasir had been allowed to rule for so many years, despite being a Rakshasa. Individual good outsiders had attacked him, but never a concentrated effort, because most of them cared for the people of Purrsia too much. “I agree”, Beatrice Brent said with a nod. “We can’t make a knee-jerk reaction and go ruin someone’s country over suspicions and minor infractions.” Even the more hot-headed of her peers seemed to agree with this. Sother ground his teeth a little and wrapped his councilor’s chain around his finger, and then spoke: “The civil war is not necessary. Unlike Gazi Hasir, Richard does not rule alone.”
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Post by kerrah on Feb 21, 2017 19:22:15 GMT
Chapter 14 - Embers in Ashes“Okay, guys”, TumTum whispered as she peered around the corner to the plaza. “Stay frosty and remember the plan. I’m going in.” There were a bunch of figures mulling about it, any of whom might be one of her adoptive father’s people. She had only barely met the ghost kobold he called his best friend in her youth, but he had always scared her. Every condemned criminal whom he puppeted had this tense look on their face, like they were about to vomit. And the first time she’d seen his true form, it had given her nightmares. She shivered at the memory, and hoped it wasn’t him who was here to make contact with them. “Good luck”, Pike said to her and gave her the thumbs up. She felt a tiny squirming inside her coat, and patted her chest. Stepping past the corner, TumTum started into the crowd, still disguised as a goblin. A lone goblin was the easiest thing to ignore in New Braveport. The only reason they weren’t employed as spies and messengers all the time was that they weren’t very reliable, often having the attention-span of a puppy and the loyalty of an imp. She moved between the legs of taller people, deftly avoiding bumping into anyone. They had sent word to Richard to meet in a public place. In the middle of the square stood a tall statue which had once been of a hobgoblin mystic, but now depicted Admiral Kilgore. The meeting with Richard had been arranged at its base, but TumTum spied the mongrel Gnome they had seen juggling the other day, huddled next to the granite pedestal. A couple of orcs were taking turns kicking it. She was thankful Pike was staying back at the alleyway to observe things, and grew even more so when a handful of town watchmen stomped towards the scene, a dangling skull marking their origin. At their head, what seemed to be a half-elf barked in Orcish for the thugs to cease their attack. As TumTum anxiously waited for the scene to end, one of the thugs stabbed the prone Gnome and smacked his head into the half-elf captain’s face. The crowds mulling around all moved away from the violence like a flock of birds from a hawk, creating an opening for the fight which only lasted seconds. Four bodies littered the cobblestones. The half-elf was dead, his two guards cursing to themselves before they shouted at a nearby shopkeeper, demanding he provide assistance with the bodies. The disguised kobold slipped next to the base of the statue and took a chance to hide underneath the hem of Kilgore's stone coat. Now she could spot anyone coming. After making sure no one was looking at her, TumTum glanced back the way she’d come to see if Pike was still in position. He was waiting on top of some crates at the mouth of the alley. Only, when she looked that way she saw him talking with someone. He wasn’t even looking her way! He was supposed to be watching her back. Scowling silently, TumTum continued her vigil, scanning the crowd for anyone suspicious. But every time she glanced back to Pike, he was still talking to the guy in the coat. Some minutes passed by, and finally she’d had enough. There was no sign of anyone coming to the statue. Slipping out from her hiding place, she zigzagged through the crowd back the way she’d come. A minotaur almost tripped on her but she ignored his protestations, dashing toward the alleyway. “This isn’t the time to catch up with old friends”, she hissed the moment she came in hearing distance of Pike, only to recognise the man he was talking to as her father. “There you are”, Richard said to her, looking tense. “I was getting to know your friend. I was hoping to learn a bit about my daughter's friends. See if you're hanging around trustworthy company, you know.” She had last met her adoptive father nine years ago. Their time apart hadn’t been kind to him. His scars from the war had faded away, but his hairline was receding and there was noticeable gray around his temples. His face was subtly lined, and he seemed to have lost a lot of weight. The real reason she hadn’t recognised him until now, wasn’t any of that or the rather ratty street clothes he was wearing, though, but his posture. It was different from the way he’d always stood, straight and proud. Now he was slouching and there was a strange look in his eyes. No one else seemed to recognise him, either. TumTum frowned and looked around. “How long have you been following us? Why did you leave me waiting at the statue?” She knew why he’d done it, though. To disarm her and take control of the meeting. She felt a squirming inside her pocket, but it went unnoticed, thankfully. “I don’t have time for your games and disguises. You should have just walked up to the gates of the palace and asked to meet me.”, Richard said tiredly, glancing toward Pike who sat awkwardly on the crates as they talked. “Years ago." “I couldn't have come straight to the palace. It’s not safe”, TumTum hissed, leaning closer to him and ushering them deeper into the alley. “We’re being hunted. And I think you might be in danger.” “I have been in danger for the last twenty-one years”, Richard said, unimpressed. “Is this because of your smuggling? Your friend says he’s not a criminal.” He did walk into the alley, but his body language reflected the same amount of indifference toward her warnings as his tone. Pike jumped off the boxes and followed them. “This is about Mennas’ death”, she whispered. Richard reached a hand to rub over his eyes. “Ugh… this is why you come home? I’ve been trying to find out who did it. Trying to find out what happened to the damn Pillar of Light… if Reginald still had it, he’d have used it on Garrel by now.” TumTum tried to share a look with Pike, but he was looking at Richard. This wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. “A lot of people think it was you who did it”, she said carefully, turning back to study his face. The dictator of Xhas’wlef just sighed and studied her face for a little bit. “You’ve grown up so much. I think you’re comparatively my age by now”, he said, sounding sad. “You’ll die of old age before me. The day I realised that was one of the saddest-” “Shut up”, she snapped at him angrily. “I’m not here for a family gathering. Did you do it?” “No”, he answered. Then he looked about them, squinting. “Come to the palace. We’ve talked too much in public already.” He stepped forward to grab the two of them for a teleport, which TumTum hesitantly allowed him to do. Pike gave a casual shrug and took Richard’s hand, which made the human flinch in turn, probably expecting an incoming stab. They appeared right outside the back entrance of the old Gnomish palace. Two soldiers on duty saluted Richard as he strode to move past them. Even on the move, he slouched. It looked strange. TumTum stared at his back, thinking back to when they had last seen each other… The coast of Xhas’wlef was sinking behind her. It was a world of politics, rules and other people's problems. She tapped her side, feeling her coin bag for its last silvers. Richard would probably not notice the money she had borrowed for the boat, or for the crates of exotic Xhas’wlefian wares. She knew they'd fetch a tidy profit in Haak. A way to start her own legitimate criminal lifestyle. She’d stop by the Silver City on the way, of course. She’d always wanted to see the Silver City.
Turning her head back, TumTum breathed in the salty breeze and let out a happy click of her jaws.
“What are you doing?” A familiar voice said right beside her.
In her startelement she almost fell off the vessel, and had to hasten to grab the rudder to avoid going off course. It looked like Richard had found out she was missing in the middle of his shave.
“I’m moving out. We’re done”, she said to him, looking forward to the horizon.
“Why?” He asked, sounding completely baffled. He walked over to a crate of peppers and inspected the label. “These are only to be sold by state run merchant-”
TumTum threw one of her boots at him. It caught him in the back of the head and bounced into the sea. She felt even more angry at him for the loss of the footwear. “Get away from my ship!” She cried.
“Why?” He asked again, rubbing the back of his head. He wasn’t getting angry at her. That just increased her ire. She wanted him to shout and rage, but he just stood there, looking disappointed and hurt
“Because I know, all right? I found out about you and Olivier. About why he gave you to me.” She shook her head, trying to mask the tears.
Richard frowned, but he still didn’t sound angry. “No one knows about that except me and-”
“Don’t you worry about who I’ve talked to! Just get out, and never come back. I’m a grown woman, and unless you want to put shackles on me like on a piece of livestock, then get the hell away from me!” She realised she hadn’t been holding onto the rudder for a while now, but she didn’t care.
"But I care about you. In the Last Battle, you were one of the only things keeping me sane. Making sure I chose the right thing in this damned world, after all the betrayals-"
"It's always about you." TumTum could not have clenched her fists any tighter. "About your revolution. Don't tell me you gave me everything. You gave me a nanny and you kept me in a cage. A cage of stone! Stuck in your palace like a toy, doomed to stay there the rest of my life."
"TumTum, I-"
"If you care so much about ending slavery, then just let me go."
With a sob, Richard popped out just as she was about to throw her other shoe at him. She tossed it overboard and let out a high-pitched scream of frustration.The memory made her tail curl up. She wondered how Richard felt about it. She wondered how she herself felt about it. This was not how she had imagined their reunion. He probably imagined it would be different, too. He led them through the halls of another age, which she had once known so well. The palace had fallen on even harder times since she had left, it seemed. A lot of the furniture was missing, a lot of the tapestries torn or replaced by more amateur works. She had never appreciated those sort of things as a child, but had learned a thing or two as a smuggler. The palace had been full of antiques - it had once had a life of its own. Much like Richard, the palace seemed to be slouching, now. She wondered if Xhas’wlef was going through a rough patch, economically, or if Richard had gotten rid of everything in fear that any grandeur would make him into Mennas. Richard took them to a room right by the entrance and cast what was probably Mage's Private Sanctum. From a huge portrait of the Last Battle hanging on the wall, TumTum remembered playing Hide and Seek here. Richard took off his breezy cotton coat, throwing it on a dusty armchair, and instead pulled on one of his typical crimson officer's jackets. The shadows under his eyes seemed deeper in the blackness of the palace. "Would you like a seat?" Richard said, as he leaned on the conference table. He was studying her intensely. "We're fine." TumTum stated, looking about her wearily. “What’s that source of magic in your pocket? I hope it’s not a weapon”, he said, cocking his head slightly, an eyebrow raised. “None of your business”, TumTum shot back. She’d forgotten about that already. She felt like keeping it a secret just out of stubborn desire to have something over Richard. “Keep your secrets”, he muttered with a shrug. “Atar knows how many you have by now. Though if it’s the Pillar, then show it to me now.” She rolled her eyes as they left the room. “I don’t have the Pillar of Light on me. Do you really think I would have it?” He just shrugged his shoulders and allowed himself a small smile. "Anything is possible when you're a bunch of adventurers. I remember when we were considering breaking into Heaven to read the text on a Cornerstone..." Pike was sticking by them silently. He seemed a bit stiff, probably nervous around the man he blamed for making him flee Xhas'wlef as a refugee when he was still a child. TumTum was glad he wasn’t trying to insert himself into the conversation. Richard's temper was infamous for a reason. “Please spare us”, she said politely, cutting him off. There was a pause. “I didn’t kill Mennas." Richard said deliberately, leaning over the table. "But I wish I had. Still, the fact that someone else did it means there’s someone very dangerous at large. The only question is, is it a friend or a foe?” “Richard”, TumTum said, deliberately referring to him by his first name. “Even if you did it, I just want to clear my name. Somebody tried to kill us in Minaerum. It won't be the last time.” Richard's paternal instincts still existed, it seemed, because there was sudden fire in his eyes. "The real assassins, then? You'll have to tell me everything. I will send TomTom, Thulie and the entire Kobold General Bureau!" “I just need proof that you didn’t kill Mennas, and that’ll absolve me”, she groused in frustration. “If it helps at all, I’ll vouch that he didn't do it”, a pleasant male voice said and a black cat jumped through a window, landing on the table. TumTum couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Aedelfelt, despite the circumstances. "My conscience." Richard hummed, stroking the Agathion, who had learned to accept the cat aspect of its appearance. He made a few affectionate sounds as he scratched Aedelfelt, though the cat's expression betrayed wisdom and seriousness. Aedelfelt raised a paw in the air, like a sage making a proclamation. "Look at this affection. Richard is bitter, damaged and resentful. He always swore to get revenge on Mennas someday. He probably convinced himself he'd do it. But you know what? I bet that if it came down to it, he wouldn't have been able to go through with it. He is angry because he is hurt, TumTum. Because his heart is so big." Richard's brows knotted and he stopped petting Aedelfelt. "I have a reputation I worked extremely hard for." Somehow, TumTum could not believe what she was seeing. It was not that she had never seen Richard affectionate, of course. But it felt like she had somehow forgotten it, and was being reminded of it. A stab of guilt hit her, and that led to a feeling of damaged pride. She did not want to feel guilty. "This is all besides the point." "Indeed," Aedelfelt pointed his paw at Pike. "Richard, release him." “What?” TumTum asked, more than a bit confused. The gnome remained standing still, his face still neutral. “Release? You- oh no, you didn’t!” Richard cringed slightly, and all of a sudden Pike gasped out loud and fell on his knees. He’d been under a domination spell this whole time, and she hadn’t noticed anything! Balling her hands into fists she turned to Richard, only to be intercepted by Aedelfelt: “Please excuse him. You would frankly be surprised by the amount of assassination attempts since you left.” The cat glanced toward a stone chunk in the likeness of a buzzard’s head in the corner of the room. TumTum opened her mouth to give them both an earful, but this time it was Pike who interrupted. “It’s… I understand. You’ve had a tough time with gnomes. I’m sure you’re very apologetic, so we can just move on and talk about the current batch of assassinations.” It was easy to tell he was just being diplomatic, but TumTum hesitantly stood down. “Yes, well”, Richard said and stopped to consider what they’d established. “I can’t prove I didn’t do it, so the only way to clear both our names is to catch the one who did it. I haven’t been able to find much, since the Gnomes have the crime scene closed down so tight. What do you know?” He sounded surprisingly cooperative. In fact, a sort of life was coming back to him as he talked. TumTum realised that he was turning back into an adventurer, the worries of rulership slipping out of his mind for now. She hesitated, wondering where to start. “Well, it wasn’t the Pillar that-” She was cut off when Richard tensed up and lifted a hand. He was receiving a Sending. “I have to go. The Council has convened without telling me”, he said, and all of the sudden the years were weighing down on him again. “Aedelfelt, stay here and keep an eye on the two of them.” He didn’t wait for anyone to speak, and simply turned and left. TumTum felt like stopping him, but where he seemed to have turned older and more weary, she on the other hand felt like a little girl again in that moment, watching her father figure leave her to attend business. “So… who’s your friend?” Aedelfelt asked to break a tense silence. “I’m Pike”, the gnome said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “And I’m in way over my head right now.” The cat let out a series of sounds which resembled laughter, and then clarified: “I mean the third guy.” TumTum gave him a sheepish smile. “Oh yeah, I forgot that you can detect Good at will.” She stuck her hand into her pocket and extracted Robin out, carefully lowering him onto the floor. He didn’t seem to like the look of Aedelfelt’s purple feline eyes on him, so he turned into human form. "Speaking of which. You don't seem to have been too Good lately, TumTum”, the agathion mused. Then, looking at Robin: “Oh, a shapeshifter. I figured it would be a fellow familiar.” “Hey”, Robin said more than a bit awkwardly scratching his head as he stood up. “Uh, I’m Robin. Sorry for intruding.” “Speaking of intrusions”, TumTum stepped over to the fireplace at the end of the room and said: “Fifteen red rocks dance often.” Nothing happened, so she turned around to face the baffled faces of her allies and the Outsider’s amused expression. “He’s changed the passwords, then. Let us into the tunnels, Aedelfelt. I want to know what’s happening with Richard and the council.” The feline walked across the table and jumped onto the backrest of Richard’s armchair. “Why? Just because you want to defy him?” “Because I want to know why he looks like he’s dying bit by bit”, the kobold said dryly, crossing her arms. “Come on. The council chambers are two floors above us, we can take a single ladder to spy on them.” Aedelfelt considered her plea for a bit before jumping onto her shoulder and speaking: “Sixteen red rocks dance often.” At the side of the fireplace, a pathway opened between the huge stone bricks. Robin and Pike looked uncertain about this, but once they saw TumTum slip into the secret passageway Robin reverted into a rat and Pike picked him up to follow her. The ladder hidden inside the wall was muffled with padding around the metal bars, but TumTum regardless tried to avoid scraping her claws against it. She couldn’t see too well in the lack of light, but her muscle memory led the way. Aedelfelt dragged behind and guided Pike along in a whispery tone. At the top of the ladder was a landing and a narrow space between two rooms. A bunch of small holes were hidden between the brickwork of the walls of the council chamber. Other passageways led elsewhere in the palace. TumTum heard a faint voice say “All in favour?” She stuck her eye against one of the holes, straining to hear. Richard had made it up before her. He stood in the middle of the Hall of the People, shafts of light falling down around him. Long ago, the Gnomish Viceroys had thrown debauched parties here. Now austerity reigned, and so did Richard. He stood tall now, looking like the man TumTum had known, straight backed and even arrogant. He was staring at the seven members of the Council sitting behind their large crescent-shaped table. Most of their backs were turned to TumTum, but she recognised half of them in their assorted military and official garb. Then she noticed something highly unusual. On the far side of Richard stood a tall red-haired woman in armour with two similarly dressed companions. They looked like they could be paladins. They definitely didn’t look Xhas’wlefian. The council rarely received foreign dignitaries in TumTum’s experience. Richard pretended not to notice them. Two dozen palace guards were lined along the sides of the hall. She’s arrived to find all seven councilors holding their hands up in silence. “The Council of the People of Xhas’wlef has voted unanimously”, spoke the steady, confident voice of Zanathan from his high-backed chair as everyone lowered their hand. “Commissar TomTom is to be relinquished to the Silver Protocol for investigation under suspicion of gross crimes of planar misconduct and political assassination. Effective immediately." TumTum inhaled sharply as she took in what she’d just heard. The others were catching up behind her, but she ignored them, not wanting to miss anything. She quickly moved a few peepholes to the left so she could see the speaker’s face. It looked stern but stoic."Zanathan?" Richard asked in a moment of rare surprise. He looked across the faces of the councillors, one after the other. Perhaps still hoping he could find some loyalty. "Based on what evidence? Does Hechin know about this?" The red-headed woman said nothing. Zanathan gestured in the air, as if addressing a crowd. "Hechin knows. This order comes after a discussion at the top circles of the Protocol. Hechin voted against this, but when he was outvoted he deferred to the majority.” Her eyes flickered to the Council to highlight the comparison to Richard himself. “I’m sorry, Cipher. It's time to accept that Outsiders don't make good citizens. You can't control them. They've betrayed you. Xhas'wlef will never be a nation while it is ruled by TomTom from the shadows." Richard kept looking between the two of them, some concern of his face. TumTum guessed that he was thinking about the few Proteans left living in Xhas’wlef, and wondering what was going to happen to them. "TomTom doesn't-" "You named a city after him!" shrieked Slaen, his grey skin hanging loose around his crooked frame. Along with Kilgore, TumTum remembered him because he was one of the original pirates to seize Xhas'wlef with Arosh. "We know TomTom. We know what he is like. Richard, along with his Proteans he is under suspicion of stealing the Pillar of Light!" Richard opened his mouth wide, fist clenched, but no sound came out. He shut his eyes in frustration, his face turning red. TumTum knew what this was - there was something he had learned, beyond the Valley of the Damned, something he could not put into words. His Councillors called it stress from the war, damaging his ability to speak. TumTum knew it was more. Whatever Richard wanted to say, nothing came out. "The truth." Zanathan said. "Is that the Silver Protocol have uncovered an Outsider conspiracy. You, of all people, shouldn't take that lightly." “I won’t let you do this”, Richard finally said, his temper flaring up as his voice rose. “He is a citizen of Xhas’wlef, and I won’t let a bunch of foreigners playing at being world police arrest him without any kind of evidence except hearsay.” He gave the three people to his left an outraged look. They seemed unaffected. Admiral Kilgore shook his head. He sounded ashamed when he spoke. “Richard, you can’t say that the kobold didn’t have ties to Charlie Blackbird. How do we know he hasn’t kept them up in the last twenty years? Half of the time even you don’t know where he is. Which body he’s possessing.” The old orc’s voice betrayed his disgust to that final detail. TumTum watched her father’s shaking with rage. She could not imagine the betrayal he must feel. Kilgore had been his staunchest supporter in the Council during the hard times after the war. “This goes against everything… against every ideal of the revolution, and of Xhas’wlef. You want to let these… these Wardens just take one of us!" "We aren't Wardens." the red-headed woman said, failing to affect any offense in her tone. "We are the Silver Protocol, sworn to protect the world against Outsider influence.” “And your personal hatred for me is completely beside the point”, Richard mocked her. She gave a shrug. “Me? I voted against this, in the council. I was chosen to run the operation since I have no bias against you.” Brushing her ponytail off her shoulder, she changed her tone to a more businesslike one: “If TomTom is innocent, he’s got nothing to fear, but our investigation has led us to uncover the dark connection between your TomTom and the Atarite heretics, this so-called Raven Prince. Outsiders scheme from the shadows, but us mortals are their pawns. And TomTom and whatever else he is working with, they have chosen the Atarite heresy as their vessel." Richard fell silent, clearly surprised at the turn the accusations had taken. "What does TomTom have to do with the heresy?" The red-headed woman smiled, such was her confidence in her story. "Surely you know he founded the heresy with Altos? We know this because the headmistress of the Whisperers of the Empire, Laura Linnas, was the one who trained TomTom in Talland. She discovered his meddling. TomTom created Charlie, in a way. It is only natural to find that TomTom is using the heresy to achieve his goals. He would know it as well as anyone. Need we remind you of the connection between Atarism and the Godshards, and the Pillar of Light? We can't take any risks." Richard shook his head, and TumTum was sure she glimpsed a flicker of fire at his fingertips. "Zanathan! If you want to investigate TomTom, then perform an investigation internally, in Xhas’wlef! No foreigner has the right to-” “Richard”, Zanathan’s voice cracked like a whip, full of danger. "You yourself are an Altosian. You can't see the strings that TomTom has placed around you." "Who told you that I-" Richard shook his head, at a loss for words. "My faith. If you know, it means you've spied on my most secret prayers. It means you've been planning to betray me for far longer, Zanathan. This whole thing is just an excuse." "Richard, be reasonable." Zanathan cooed, raising his palms. "Betrayal!" Richard's voice rose dangerously. "I built this place!" Zanathan looked at the Councillors about him. “The constitution we wrote together states that if the Council votes unanimously, they can overrule the Chairman. I want your signature on this ruling.” He reached his hand to a notary who handed him a roll of parchment. He set it on the table before himself. “The law is the law, Richard. You can’t pick and choose. I know our constitution back and forth, and it’s within the power of the Council to surrender an individual citizen to an investigation if they find the reasoning sufficient. We voted. It is already done.” The chairman stared down at that paper. He said nothing. Some of the councilors shared concerned looks with one another. Richard didn’t move an inch. “You’re not going to command the palace guard to arrest us, Richard”, Zanathan said sternly. From the perimeter of the hall, the thin line of soldiers stood silently at attention, halberds in hand. “Most of them might pick you over us, sure. And if there was a civil war, you could well win. But you and I both know that if Xhas’wlef has a civil war, its neighbours are going to cut it to bits and all our work will be undone. I know you won't start a war over this.” He sounded utterly, completely confident in what he was saying, and many of his colleagues seemed emboldened. “You’re right”, Richard said slowly. “I’m not going to start a war over this.” He ground his jaw and looked up. “But I’m not going to sign that order. I quit.” His face was white as chalk. A thunderous moment of silence passed. “Your resignation is accepted”, grumbled a bugbear general TumTum didn’t recognise. Zanathan nodded, clearly pleased. "Good. It is about time we modernised this state." Richard gave a dry, almost desperate laugh, and turned his back to them. “Your rule is preferable to civil war, but I can’t say I have high hopes. Goodbye.” For all the world, he sounded downright relieved. He wasn’t invigorated like he had been for a few moments back there when discussing the investigation into Mennas’ death, but some tension actually drained out of his shoulders. “I’m taking my friend with me on my way out.” “No you’re not”, the red-haired woman in armour said, stepping forward to intercept Richard before he reached the closed doors. The sorcerer looked at her, clearly surprised by her audacity. “This council has no authority over me any more, and frankly your wretched organisation has even less. I am taking TomTom with me. Once he finds out what counts for sufficient reason to condemn a man to an inquisition in Xhas’wlef now, he’ll renounce his citizenship and put himself out of your jurisdiction.” The woman put her hand on her sword and opened her mouth to say something. Richard acted first. He swung his hand through the air and shouted a word of power, blue energy swirling around his fingers before condensing around her body, as if to constrict and restrain her. She seemed unaffected. Slowly, she drew her sword, her two companions wheeling to flank Richard. “If that’s all done with”, she said and took a step toward him, like nothing had happened. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Don’t become the new Conrad Colorado.” TumTum instantly knew that was the absolute worst thing to say. Richard’s eyes bulged out and a ball of white hot fire appeared on his palm as he took a step toward her.. "No!" Kilgore shouted. He stood up from his seat and stepped around the table, tearing away his ceremonial cloak and revealing leather armour and muscle beneath. "Richard! Please just hand him over! He’s already dead but you don’t need to be!" "I will not betray my revolution." Richard growled past gritted teeth. One of the Silver Protocol agents had inched behind him, but before she could move, Kilgore roared, a hand-axe appearing in his hand. Rushing the elf from the side, he buried the blade of the weapon in her. "You said he wouldn’t be hurt!" Kilgore bellowed angrily. “Guards! Protect-” His order was interrupted when the red-haired woman pulled out a pistol and shot him in the face, firing past Richard, furious over the death of her subordinate. At the sight of this, some of the palace guards rushed forward to restrain her, while others mulled about in confusion or even tried to hold back their vengeful comrades. Richard was casting defensive spells on himself. “Stop it you fools!” Zanathan shouted in a Clarion Call, bursting to his feet. The guards halted what had almost turned into a skirmish, though a handful were forming up around the two remaining Silver Protocol members. “Richard, just get out of here! No one will stop you, no one will follow you.” His voice and mannerisms betrayed anger for the first time. “We can’t afford fighting here, in the halls of the palace! You and I both know we can’t-” Richard swung his hand, snapping his fingers and causing a thunderclap which interrupted the mongrel’s words. “Fuck you. I’m not going to order anyone to fight you, but I won't order anyone to be loyal to you, either. And that doesn’t mean I won’t use force to save my friend. Anyone who tries to stop me from doing that can answer for themselves.” His eyes flicked to the front door of the hall. He couldn’t teleport out of this place due to the enchantments protecting the palace. The red-headed woman and her remaining companion had placed themselves between Richard and the door. She lifted up her sword. Arriving like a blur, a green shape knocked her to the ground and drove back her companion. TumTum had spent enough time in Xhas'wlef to recognise a Protean. ”Thulie!" Richard cried. "Let's get out of here, chief! TomTom won't last much longer! We'll come back for these bastards!" "Forget them! Get me to TomTom!" TumTum fell away from the peephole as a flash of light bounded through the chamber. Her friends grabbed her as she fell back. Aedelfelt floated before her. "Quick. We need to get to Richard and TomTom. Before it is too late." “Where is he?” Pike asked as they rushed toward the ladder. “In the basement”, TumTum spoke hastily. And so they went down.
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Post by kerrah on May 3, 2018 21:13:14 GMT
Chapter 15 - Downfall“RICHARD!” TumTum yelled out loud from inside the walls as she followed Aedelfelt. The sounds of his fight with that red-haired bitch were loud, and powered over the occasional skirmish between various other factions. There we no chance he could hear her over all this noise. He seemed to be heading downward like the rest of them were. Hopefully he was going toward TomTom’s office, and not to that room where he’d left his guests. As the kobold was led to another ladder, she started downward and looked to her pocket, where Robin was hidden. “You’d better send a message to the others! Tell them things went tits up, and they need to prepare a retrieval!” “Son of a bitch!” Ter grumbled angrily, gnashing his teeth. His hands trembled, and Lenona hadn’t heard him so openly angry about anything since yesterday. “I can’t believe they failed! I wasn’t asking for anything complicated, but it seems people can’t even follow the most simple instructions.“ Ulias frowned, taken aback by the paladin’s wroth. “I’m sure he did the best he could. You can’t expect perfection out of-” “Do you see this? Are you even seeing what this is? This is what betrayal looks like!” Kingsgrace shot a glare at the dwarf, stood up and slammed his fork onto the table, next to the clay plate before him. The table creaked dangerously from the force of the blow. He muttered a short curse in his native Keshanite tongue. Lenona sighed and crossed her arms. “You’re overreacting.” She found herself idly wondering which one of them would come out on top in a fight. On purely martial grounds she was better, but he had all those tricks of his... “Overreacting?” Ter’s voice sounded befuddled, utterly disbelieving of her calm. He gestured at the plate before him. “I asked for a coastlands quiche, and this is what I get? This may be my one chance to visit Xhas’wlef in my life, and the cooks here can’t even get the ingredients right? Does it take a foreigner to tell them how to make their own food?” He shot a glance down at the insufficient dish before him, almost snarling in disgust. “They couldn’t find sweet peppers and quail? Seriously? Who even puts cucumber in something like this?” Lenona sighed. When Ter had said he was going to get something important he had been looking for in this town, she’d thought of magic or weapons. But instead, this. In a way, she was glad for the distraction; it had been a while since Robin had sent her anything. She suspected that Terrence was trying to distract himself from the worry over their allies being at the mercy of Richard Cipher, too. “Can you at least bitch about it more quietly?” She asked and looked out the window. “I might miss something from Robin.” Bugging him for a status report wouldn’t be any good, so she waited for him to get to her first. If they were lucky, Cipher would simply produce proof of his innocence, and maybe tell them what he knew about King Mennas’ death. And while he was at it, he could hand them magic items and a cadre of bodyguards to watch their backs from now on. But such fancies seemed as unlikely as anything else. She was just shaking her head when a voice appeared, insistent and sharp. Lenona! Trouble!Her face tightened. That sounded bad. What is it? What’s happened?We made it in, and Richard was explaining things to us, but then the council called us and we snuck inside the walls and… it’s Beatrice! Beatrice is here, Len! Here to depose Richard!“Oh shit”, Lenona said out loud before she had time to restrain herself. When Robin had tried to find his boss in the Silver Protocol back at Tannhäuser, she’d been gone on business. Apparently this was it. Ter and Ulias had turned to look toward the swordswoman. She quickly explained: “It’s Robin. Something’s happened. Just a second…” Is there fighting? Is anyone hurt? Where are you?Richard is fighting Beatrice. I think they’re both alive. We’re inside the secret pathways, in the walls. No one’s seen me, TumTum or Pike. We’re looking for TomTom!No, you need to get out of there. The Protocol must have decided to turn against Richard. If Beatrice sees you with him, or helping TomTom, there’s no telling what she’ll do!“What’s happened? Is it a trap? Did Richard attack them?” Ter asked, sounding grave. Lenona gave a distracted wave of her hand. “No. There’s a coup. Richard’s being deposed.” She didn’t mention Beatrice. That was irrelevant for now. For the others. Ter spoke simultaneously to Robin’s next message. While the fact that one was sound and the other was a projected thought made it easier to keep them separate, she still had to closed her eyes to focus. “Shut up”, he said aloud, placing her hand on her temple. It was a meaningless gesture, except for reminding those around her that she was occupied in another conversation. “He’s… they’re in the basement. There’s a bunker”, she relayed Robin. “It’s teleport-proofed, so they can’t escape. They’re besieged.” Ter moved toward the doorway. “It’s time to get going”, he said, his sour disposition transitioning to determination. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, but whatever it is, we can’t do it from here.” Lenona grabbed a mouthful of his barely-touched quiche on her way out. It was going to be a hard day. “They’re on their way here”, Robin announced. He’d turned back into his human form after they had reached the bunker. Whatever they’re supposed to do, Pike thought, but left it unsaid. Instead, he just nodded at the young man. In the corner of the room, Richard Cipher was having a hushed conversation with his cat, who floated around him, hissing at him. Based on TumTum’s reaction, the feline Outsider did not get out of sorts often, and was quite upset. TumTum was staring at those two, and then occasionally looking toward the blind gnome sitting not far from them. That was the infamous TomTom. Pike could hardly believe it. The kobold had a particular vindictive streak, that much was agreed upon even by the staunchest apologists of the Cipher Junta, so Pike had to keep reminding himself that the harmless looking gnome held within him a very dangerous occupant - one who had been a nightmare for his people before they fled Xhas'Wlef. The young illusionist felt quite out of place here. Pike and Robin had little to do with any of this. They had just been backup for TumTum, but now they were stuck in the midst of things. He considered telling the kobold that they should just walk out, but he could tell she didn’t want to leave her adoptive father behind, no matter how strained their relations. Scooching closer to Robin, Pike tugged on the druid’s shirt for attention, and muttered in a low voice: “If it comes to a fight, just stay out of it. And try to keep our friend out too if possible.” The human chewed on his lip, but gave a nod. Pike ran through illusions in his mind. If he’d been given more time to prepare, he could possibly have covered their escape from the palace by making it look like they were holding up here, while in truth, running another way. Unfortunately Richard had gotten here first, and the doors were locked as soon as the rest of them had entered. The bunker's doors were sealed shut with a dozen locks and bars, each with an enchantment stronger than the last. And yet, when the people outside brought another barrage against them, the doors looked like they bulged inwards just a tiny bit. The thirteenth lock had popped open minutes ago; for that one, the chancellor apparently knew a counterspell. “They will get in eventually”, a squeaky voice said behind Pike as he looked at the doors. He was startled, and span around. The possessed gnome had moved right behind Pike without making a sound. “If not through the door, they’ll carve their way through the very walls. They’re enchanted too, so it’s not easy, but they can do it with enough patience.” “We don’t need to worry about that. By then we’ll have starved to death”, remarked the last person in the room. He looked human enough, except with a head somewhat reminiscent of a crocodile. It was the protean, Thulie. Another infamous figure among the people Pike had grown up with. This was like a rogue’s gallery of boogiemen from his childhood. “Well, I mean, these guys will have.” Pike harrumphed and tried to think of escape again. He could make an illusion of some really dangerous creature, but he got the feeling that the people beyond the doors would be more skeptical of that than the two attackers in Tannhäuser had been of a fake Javel. The best case scenario was that they’d think it was summoned, in which case they’d try to banish it, which would reveal the ruse. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you”, the ghost said to TumTum, who glanced at its gnomish shell with a slightly disgusted look on her face. “Why are you wearing him?” She asked. Pike felt his face tense up, and she must have seen it in the corner of her vision since she cringed a little during TomTom’s answer. The undead spymaster ran the wrinkled hands down the front of his shirt. “Turnus was a Warden. I figure he should be good for something at some point of his existence.” It was exactly the sort of thing Pike would have expected. Some of the Kasels were family friends to his parents, and the granddaughter of this poor possessed man was one of the leading figures of his community. It was at times like these that he appreciated being able to stay calm under pressure. He had come to the source of all his grief and troubles. Taking a slight breath, he took a step backward and ran his fingers through his hair. He had to figure this out. Everyone was counting on him! “TomTom”, a soft voice said behind Pike's back. “You need to turn yourself in.” The room went quiet. Even Richard and Aedelfelt’s hushed argument died. All eyes turned on TumTum. “Hmm? I thought you were here to rescue me…” Turnus’ Kasel’s stolen voice mused. Milky white eyes blinked in confusion, and amusement. It was almost as if being disappointed made TomTom contented, perhaps for proving him right about the world. “I’ll rescue what’s rescuable”, the smuggler responded, crossing her arms. “Unless our friends on the outside somehow manage to lure the whole palace off our backs, the only ways out are either surrender or a full-on fight.” "No, no, no!" Richard shouted whilst smacking his fist onto a table. Then he stepped forward, his face trembling, massaging his temple with one hand. “I will not let them take-” “Hear me out!” TumTum cut him off, her voice sharp. “The Silver Protocol messed up this mission of theirs badly, but it’s too late to turn around and just tell them to fuck off, obviously. I think we established up there that you’re not going to fight the Council, da-... Richard. There’s not going to be a civil war, right?” She looked up into his eyes, and the red-haired man looked for all the world like he hadn’t yet made up his mind. He took a breath and started again: “I will not let them take-” “They won’t be taking anyone if TomTom surrenders”, she cut him off again. They said that if they get him, you get to go. I doubt they’re going to change that, considering how much destruction you’ll cause if they try to take you on. And besides, you haven’t killed anyone. Yet.” “He won’t surrender, though”, Richard said blankly, like he had read Pike’s mind. “There isn’t a… I mean, there’s no way we can talk this out…” It sounded like he was trying to reason himself into fighting the Council after all. TomTom drummed his gnomish fingers on a tabletop. “Don’t I get a word in this?” He asked, voice silky and curious. "The Silver Protocol believes that we killed King Mennas Merniso, does it not?" Pike looked from Richard, to the crocodile-headed Thulie, and back to the possessed gnome Warden who TomTom inhabited. These people were monsters. Given the gunpowder revolt in Serral, Pike had first blamed the Wardens for the death of King Mennas. The murdered Warden, Magelle Moraqshed, found in Tannhäuser, had ruined that theory, however. What if TomTom really had killed King Mennas? What if he had assassinated the Warden, Magelle Moraqshed? Seeing as he was wearing Turnus Kassel's skin, he seemed to have enough hatred... What if it really was him, trying to spark a war between Gnomeland and the Colonies, so Xhas'Wlef could seize the day? Could the mercenaries they fought in Tannhäuser have been sent there or have been manipulated by TomTom? "Yes, the Silver Protocol thinks you did it." TumTum affirmed, feeling singled out by the question. The possessed gnome hobbled in a circle, studying each one of them. "Do you know why the Silver Protocol came? For me? Because one of my dearest friends, Dorathion Ash, talked filth behind my back, and then accused me and turned against me. I had to flee from the Rising Fire, after our first reunion in many years. My own friends!" "They betrayed the revolution." Richard rasped, shadows under his eyes. "And they put Mennas on the throne." In gnomish form, TomTom waved a handy whimsically through the air, as if lecturing. "I sacrificed everything - including my very soul - to end slavery in Xhas'Wlef. And the thanks I get is to be trapped down here. Tonight, Richard, Thulie and Aedelfelt, you proved you were the only real friends I ever had. I was a cleaner in a brothel. I was lucky that I spent a few short months fighting for something meaningful, and then I was murdered for it. But even down here, I regret nothing." "TomTom." Richard said, falling to one knee beside the gnome. As he did so, the phantasmal outline of a kobold materialised around the body of Turnus Kassel, and Pike could see TomTom for what he was, for the first time. A memory of a kobold betrayed, trapped in a mad world. "TomTom, I thought I lost you, but I found you again. Don't leave again." The two embraced, TomTom putting little arms around Richard's neck. Then he stepped back, and looked solemnly towards the doors, as one of the locks exploded and skidded towards their feet. "Richard, do you remember when I assassinated Torweld Weiss in Sesbritch?" Richard smiled and a distant look came into his eyes. "Of course... it allowed the Ironclad - George Joffee - to take over, and negotiate peace with the Rising Fire." "Do you remember what was one of the conditions of that peace?" TomTom asked, tilting his head. His milky eyes were wide open. Richard seemed to understand, and inclined his head. "That you would turn yourself in after the Revolution, to face justice for the assassination of Torweld Weiss." "That's right." TomTom said. "But I was murdered. Now I am back, and I have a second chance to do things right. And today, Richard, by resigning as Chairman of Xhas'Wlef, it seems to me that the Revolution is well and truly over. It is time for us to face reality. I cannot go on existing without a cause, Richard. Not with all my friends and the whole world thinking that everything I sacrificed was for a lie. I want them to understand. I did everything, in the end, for you. For the Rising Fire. For justice! And so I will face justice... to clear your name. Thank you for everything." "You can't be serious. This can be a new beginning-" Richard began, but TomTom embraced him again, and then kissed his cheek. "I will clear your name, and maybe that way, the Revolution can continue. If they think you killed Mennas, or had a part in it, Richard, they will never stop hunting you. And slavery will thrive, across the world. The Fire will never Rise again. It's up to you now. This is my own personal wish. Do not stop me." "TomTom." Richard reached out a trembling hand. "Not again. Don't go." But TomTom was walking towards the giant doors of the bunker. As another barrage hit them, and another lock broke, TomTom looked back one last time. "The Fire Rises." Then he opened the doors. “It looks like most of the guards are inside. The gates look almost abandoned”, Lenona mumbled, eyeing the entrance to the palace, failing to stay discreet. Ulias sighed. He had a thoroughly bad feeling about this. “This is broad daylight. You can’t seriously be considering this”, he pleaded with the other two. Ter Kingsgrace stroked his chin. “We don’t have to kill anyone. We just need to make them call for backup, and maybe it’ll give a window for our folks to break away from the bunker.” He didn’t sound very convinced by his own plan. They were in an alleyway right in front of the palace. Lenona tensed up. “Wait, don’t”, she said stiffly, her eyes moving back and forth a tiny bit as they seemed to when she communicated with her fiancé. “They’re out”, she said suddenly. Ter let out a confused grunt. “Holy hells, the kobold surrendered.” “TumTum?” Ter asked, sounding concerned. “No, TomTom”, Lenona corrected. She sounded as surprised as the paladin looked. Ulias frowned. He didn’t have as much of a context for all these people as the others did, since he wasn’t from around here, but he guessed that this undead kobold who had literally cheated death wasn’t the first person to give themselves in. “Where are they?” He asked, focusing on the here and now. Five minutes later the two groups met at one of the side entrances of the palace. A group of soldiers were escorting TumTum’s people out. Ulias recognised Richard Cipher from some of the statues in the city, which matched his likeness surprisingly well. He was stiff-backed and looked forward without seeming to see anything, his eyes wet and red. The others were behind him. Among them was also a protean who was flaunting his nature. Ter’s jaw tightened at the sight of the dictator, but he kept his peace and instead told TumTum: “We need to go before they change their minds.” The soldiers stopped at the gate and watched their former dictator go. One of them, a female hobgoblin, looked like she wanted to leave with him. Robin climbed out of Pike's pocket, having assumed his rat form. He threw himself in the air, transformed back into a human, and scampered onto his feet. “Back to- to our headquarters”, he mumbled. He looked very eager to be gone from here. “Come”, Richard said without looking at anyone as he walked through them toward a plaza up ahead. He kept walking. He had a bundle under his arm, from which he retrieved a small pendant, tossing it over his shoulder blindly. Lenona caught it. “Those are anti-scrying trinkets. Everyone take one”, TumTum instructed as her father kept tossing them out. “Everyone shielded?” Richard asked, stopping once he was far enough from the guards to not be overheard. He stuffed the bundle in his pocket and finally turned around. “We’re going.” “Where?” The protean asked, sounding very curious. “One of your hidey-holes?” Suddenly a slight smile appeared on that stony face. It looked downright alien. “Screw my hidey-holes. One friend is locked up for the time being. But I’m going to free another”, he announced. Grikka tapped her foot on the ground, chewing on a chicken bone as she waited. They had waited for too long already. “He’s not coming”, Bishop said. “He still might”, the orc insisted. “He’s not.” “Queen said he would!” Grikka span around and kicked a chair hard enough to break one of its legs. “This is his safe house! He doesn’t know anyone knows about this place! He was supposed to come here, not expecting an ambush. Queen promised! Flach thuk!” She spat onto a painting on the wall after cursing in Orcish. It depicted an island. Probably Redrock. Bishop sighed and crossed her arms. “Queen’s well connected, but there’s limits. It’s been two hours since he was deposed; he’s not coming here. You’ll get your revenge eventually. We all know how much this means to you....” “I don’t need your sympathy”, Grikka said and turned her back to the window. “Look at this place!” She gestured at the rather lavish secret hideout. “Even without the enchantments, this place is probably worth more than all my tribe’s possessions. This man does not care about anyone but himself.” Bishop tossed her hair slightly and wandered through the room. “Let’s get going. Ranting isn’t going to get anything done. You’ll get Richard another day. He’s on the run, now. Queen is going to track him down eventually. If necessary, we’ll get the whole six man crew together. He’s too big of a wild card to not account for eventually.” She casually cast a mending spell on the chair, to cover up their having been there. Grikka cursed some more, but finally gave up and returned to the cleric. “Let’s go.” She silently hoped that next time she’d be paired with Knight. He didn’t blab on and on. “At the very least”, Bishop said while preparing a spell to take them out, “they got the dead kobold.” Grikka shrugged and glanced out the window. “If the Richard didn’t show up here, I bet he’s out there, killing someone in revenge for what he’s lost. There’s no room for love in that man’s heart.” Bishop scoffed at the phrasing, and cast them off.
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Post by Timeon on May 21, 2018 21:23:21 GMT
Chapter 16 - Many MeetingsTHE ARID PENINSULAThe first thing to hit TumTum was a hot and dry wind. She raised her hand to cover her eyes, dust twirling through her fingers and into her eyes. Once she adjusted to the sudden glaring light and atmosphere, she realised that she was near the edge of a cliff, overlooking a vast golden plain below. It stretched almost as far as the eye could see, but in the distance, she spied what seemed to be a cut in the land. Upon closer examination, it turned out to be a great river. Hearing the sound of scuffling and coughing, she turned around and saw the rest of her companions adjusting themselves and their equipment. The only person standing as rigid as stone, staring across the wastes, was Richard Cipher himself. Mere hours ago he had been the Chairman of Xhas'Wlef. Now he was her father, and one of the saviours of the world, but nothing more than that. Still, she knew him well enough to see that there was no defeat in his hard eyes. He looked more determined than she had ever seen him before, if anything. By his side, another memory from her childhood, Thulie the Protean, stood in the form of a crocodile on two legs, perpetually grinning. TomTom's absence was impossible to miss. The Silver Protocol had him, though she could still hardly believe that he had just given himself up. Richard caught her staring and broke his concentration. "So what are we to do with the lot of you?" he asked, folding his arms behind his back and pacing around the odd company of misfits. "You came to Xhas'Wlef to find out if I killed Mennas. You will know soon enough that I did not, once they interrogate TomTom. So it is your turn to answer questions. Who are you really?" Nobody dared to answer first, so Richard took the initiative and planted his feet in front of the nearest member of the company - Ulias, the dwarf from Turnia. He was using his turquoise cloak to shield himself from the winds. As a sea-faring dwarf, he was not used to these arid heights. Ulias met Richard's gaze, and inclined his head and bowed. "I am a humble priest from Turnia, Lord Cipher." "Not Lord. Chairman." Richard corrected, then caught himself. "Just Richard, now. How did you end up following my daughter around?" TumTum placed herself between Ulias and Richard, and put her hands on her hips. The permanent Enlarge Person spell she had bought now allowed her to meet Richard face to face. "Ulias saved my life in Gnomeland. I was smuggling a gunpowder shipment, before the person who hired me tried to have me killed." "That's right." Ulias interjected. "I am on a quest to recover a holy relic for my nation. My path took me to TumTum. The omens tell me that this quest will lead me to that which I seek. Destiny has spoken." Richard nodded his head, satisfied, and seemed to let his guard down slightly - but only for a moment. He sidestepped TumTum and walked towards Ter Kingsgrace. "A Turnian dwarf. And now a human, and a Keshanite. From which part of Keshan are you from?" Richard asked. Ter Kingsgrace was visibly tense, his eyes narrowed. TumTum could tell that he probably still suspected Richard for murdering Mennas. The young Lawyer Paladin put a hand on the hilt of his sword and placed one foot in front of the other. "My name is Terrence Kingsgrace, a commander of the Lawyer Paladins of Mennastur, right hand of the Hammer of Justice, loyal servant to the true King of Gnomeland, Mennas Merniso. Son to a murdered father. Exiled from my home. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next." Richard clapped slowly. "I remember you as a little boy. I was there, you know. When Mennas adopted you, in Illidar. So that answers my question. You are from Illidar." "I am from Gnomeland." Terrence's fists tightened. "He rescued me from the secret police. From Javel." TumTum cut in once again, before Richard could do anything rash. "I was taken captive, and he broke me out of prison with the help of Ulias. That is why he is in exile. I owe him." Richard gestured in the air, dismissively. "You always used to play together as kids." He passed Ter and moved on to the Gnome, Pike. Pike was looking particularly nervous. Richard did not fail to notice Pike's body language, and bent down, his hands on his knees, as if he was talking to a child. "And you are?" "My name is Pike, for short." the Gnome splurted out, the wind blowing sweat off of his face. "I'm from Serral, in Gnomeland..." "Interesting." Richard placed a finger on his chin. "They call Serral the Monster City. What is a Gnome doing in the Monster City of Gnomeland?" Pike's attitude changed in a split second. The diminutive man's face twisted into a snarl, and suddenly he was shouting. "Because of you! My entire family, my people, were exiled from Xhas'Wlef! And Mennas took us in!" Richard jumped back, as if a snake had bitten him. "So it is as I thought. You are not from Serral at all, you are a refugee from Xhas'Wlef." Pike spat at his feet. "Dictator. Tyrant!" To TumTum's surprise, Richard did not get angry. His face remained calm. Instead, Richard spared another glance at the wasteland on the horizon. "I did everything that was necessary to secure lasting peace. That has included stepping down as Chairman. And keeping the peace has included letting my own best friend, perhaps my only true friend, hand himself over for an unfair trial in the Silver Protocol. I never forced anyone into exile, Pike. Your people chose to leave. It was nothing personal." Richard moved on at last to Robin the wererat, and to Lenona Tullen. "Your names?" " Robin." the wererat said. "But we have met before." The woman nodded. "So have we." Richard cocked his head. "Shame. I do not remember either of you." "I am one of the only survivors of Orsad." Robin declared, and bowed his head. "When Ahriman attacked Orsad to steal the Godshard from Empress Agatha III, I managed to hide myself from the monsters. You rescued me, Richard. The Rising Fire saved me and sent me to Talland. It was in Talland that I met Lenona." It was Lenona Tullen's turn to speak. "Yes, I met Robin in Talland, many years ago." she said. Her face was a mix of fear and awe. "So where did we meet?" Richard asked. "I was a child then..." Lenona began, then turned away, red in the face. TumTum found Lenona's reaction unusual, and surprising. It was like she was trying to hide something. Something she was ashamed of? "Tell me." Richard stated, though it was more of a command. "I was a child in Underfall. There was a feast, and the Rising Fire were guests of honour. The Rising Fire had come to the city, to claim it for the revolution. Brokk gave me a figurine. My uncle was..." "Your uncle... your uncle was?" Richard pressed her on, growing impatient. "The alchemist." Lenona said through gritted teeth. " Lennard Tullen. Of Tullen Alchemics." She needed say nothing more. All the connections snapped in Richard's mind. A ball of fire formed in his palm. Lenona reacted with surprising speed, drawing her sword from across her back. The rest of her companions moved as well, Pike drawing a knife from his sleeve, and Terrence drawing his scimitar. Robin put himself between them instead. "Please, Mister Richard, sir. She has spent her life trying to get away from that. Trying to make up for it." "Your uncle killed TomTom." Richard breathed. "And now your party comes to my palace, and again, I lose TomTom." "One of the reasons I came to Xhas'Wlef..." Lenona began, a tear running down her face. "Was to apologise." The fire blinked out from Richard's palm. TumTum took the chance to give her father a kick in the shin, and he growled. "Enough!" TumTum shouted, and everyone fell silent and looked to her. "If you didn't kill Mennas, dad, you had better help us figure out who did." Richard waved his arm, and a hut materialised out of thin air. "Get comfortable. I will be back in a few minutes. I have a few things to take care of." "Where are you going?" TumTum grabbed his wrist. "To visit Steward and withdraw my shares from Lohengrin. The largest corporation in the Tradesea." - When they were all assembled around a fireplace in the magical hut, they all had a chance to piece together their parts of the bigger picture. TumTum had been paid to smuggle gunpowder from Minaerum into Gnomeland. Her employer had tried to kill her, but Ulias saved her. Shortly after, the Wardens had attempted a rebellion in Serral, leading to Pike's arrest, while Mennas was killed by the Pillar of Light. Ulias and Terrence Kingsgrace had broken TumTum and Pike out of prison. Meanwhile, Lenona and Robin were sent to Minaerum, to investigate the assassination of a Warden. So, all of them met in Minaerum, thanks to the gunpowder and thanks to the assassinated Warden. All the connections had pointed to Richard and TomTom, and it seemed like the Silver Protocol had come to the same conclusion. Which had left them here. "So if it was not you, father, who could it be?" TumTum asked. Yet it was the turn of Thulie the Protean to speak, as he picked his teeth. "Richard did not do it. I can tell you that much. But the Silver Protocol got involved because of Outsiders. And they think that Garrel the Raven Prince was somehow involved, too. Outsiders could be trying to engulf Sa Vard in chaos. Some kind of revenge fantasy. If everyone is fighting each other, it makes it pretty easy for the forces of Evil to do whatever they need to do." "The only real lead we have is the Pillar of Light." TumTum stated. "And by all accounts, Garrel the Raven Prince has it..." Robin added. "And Garrel is in Mullhaven, preparing to invade the Empire. It is probably the perfect opportunity, now that the world is in chaos. Still, we should not exclude any suspects. Not from Marley Merniso the Bastard to Garrel, to TomTom himself." "The question is." TumTum raised a finger into the air, looking from face to face. "Can we stick together until we get to the bottom of this?" Ulias was the first to smack a fist into the palm of his hand. "Aye, destiny has brought me here. And it will bring me to my relic." "I am with you." Terrence looked to an imaginary vista, like a posing hero. "I will avenge my father. And redeem myself so I can escape this exile." "I owe Mennas everything. My people owe him everything, for taking us in when this monster burned down our homes." Pike gestured a thumb at Richard. "Plus, I really do not have anywhere else to go. I'm in." Then, as TumTum looked to Robin and Lenona, it hit her for the first time that they were employed by the Silver Protocol. Distracted by all recent events, and by their own failure to bring it up, it occurred to TumTum that she might not be able to trust them after all. Plus, if Richard found out that the Silver Protocol was in his midst, he just might kill them, whatever their backgrounds. What if they were spies, and had helped Beatrice Brent in Xhas'Wlef? Anything was possible. But Lenona and Robin shared a glance, then nodded their agreement. "We will go with you." Lenona decided. "Our job was to investigate a murdered Warden, and I have a feeling that chasing Mennas' killer will get us the answers we need." At last, TumTum turned to Richard. "Dad?" Richard looked vulnerable for the first time, his eyes wide. "Surrounded by people who hate me. But nothing new there. I will consider doing it, but only for you, my daughter. But I have a few things I need to do first. If we clear them up... I might consider it. Just in case it is the Div behind it all." "Where he goes, I go." Thulie had his legs crossed, and was floating in the corner, smoking a pipe that he had conjured out of nowhere. Though only words had been exchanged, TumTum felt the invisible chains of understanding pass between all in the room. A new party had been formed, with a shared purpose. At least for the time being. She did not trust Lenona or Robin, but nor did she trust her father, anyway. For now, the best thing to do was keep potential enemies close. "So it's done." she said. Then remembering the condition placed upon their mission, she looked to Richard again. "What is it you need to do, before we go looking for the Pillar of Light?" "I need to rescue an old friend." Richard clenched a fist in the air, a distant expression passing across his face. "Many years ago, Xhas'Wlef went to war with the Gnomish colonies at Lorotuan. They lie just south of our position, across Humbaba's Wasteland. We lost that war, because there were rules to follow, and foreign eyes on us. Greedy for our lands. But they took a captive, once the war was over. My own apprentice, Tun'Khashal. Bob. He has been locked away all these years. Well, I am no longer Chairman of Xhas'Wlef." "What do you really mean by that, that you're no longer Chairman?" Pike challenged him. Richard snapped his fingers once again, and a ball of fire grew in the air before them, ever so slowly. "It means that I can do whatever I like. That nobody, and nothing, can stand in my way." The fireball kept growing, until TumTum squeaked and jumped back, and her companions did the same. "Richard!" Seemingly at the last minute, the fireball vanished. Richard turned on his heel, arms folded behind his back once again, cloak swaying before him. And he walked out of the door, revealing the wastelands beyond. "Come." he said. "We are going to break the board."
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Post by Timeon on May 23, 2018 22:23:21 GMT
Chapter 17 - Ten Years A SlaveThey had come to it at last. Rising above the desert sands like a fragment of obsidian, the infamous fortress of Tomtomgrad marked the frontier between the Gnomish Colonies and Xhas'Wlef. The Gnomish and Turnian armies had broken past the Xhas'Wlefian border, and had pushed back the tribesmen to this very fortress, the lynchpin of Richard's power in the South. If it fell, the war was won.
Fireballs rained down from the parapets of Tomtomgrad’s citadel, and wherever they landed scorched bodies and glassed sand were left behind. One fireball suddenly sped towards Ulias, who was just pulling his sword free from a dead orc. Jumping sideways into a trench, Ulias felt the air behind him sigh and groan before burning. Pressure followed, and pushed him deep into the dirt, along with an incredibly loud blast. When Ulias managed to push himself up again, he found no trace of the Gnomish soldiers he had been fighting beside. All that was left was ash.
Looking across the plain, he could revise how the battle was progressing. The Gnomish and Turnian army had broken down the last line of barricades, and the tribesmen of Xhas'Wlef were fleeing towards the walls of Tomtomgrad. Seeing the standard of his Turnian commander at the barricade, Ulias wiped his eyes and staggered towards it. A company of dwarves and men were getting back into formation around the standard, forming a circle of shields. They parted to let Ulias through. Injured Turnian soldiers had been lined up in the middle, by the standard. Familiar faces and old friends greeted him with pats on the back, and he was hurried to the injured soldiers.
It was among the wounded that he found him. Laranas lay there, almost peaceful, eyes wide and unseeing. Ulias placed his hands on the body, desperately trying to pump Healing magic into it. But it was futile. He hung his head, beginning to feel faint. Somebody grabbed his arm and dragged him to his feet. One of his commanders, a veteran of the Clockwork Battle of Gnomeland. A harder man than he had ever known.
"Too late." Commander Reyne stated as fact.
“He was my brother”, Ulias said, desperate, somehow wishing that the commander would take pity on him, and change his mind. That if only Reyne said so, it wouldn’t be too late anymore.
“Too late”, the officer repeated. Then he looked to the fortress. "But not in vain. It can still mean something."
The commander waved an axe in the air, and the soldiers formed up. Ulias could imagine what the man was thinking. That had Richard Cipher been leading the defense, that they would all be dead already. Instead, Richard had gone missing during the biggest naval battle in the war with the Turnian and Gnomish navies, where Ulias himself had served and nearly died. The fortress of Tomtomgrad had monsters and men alike to protect it, but TomTom himself was an assassin, not a general. Only Tun'Khashal, Richard's own apprentice, stood between them and victory, commanding from the heart of the fortress.
"Today, this war ends." the commander stated, and strapped on his helmet. Raising a whale ivory horn to his mouth, the Turnian call echoed across the plain, carried to each ear by magics as old as the seafaring nation itself. The Gnomish and Turnian armies made their final push.
By morning, the War of the God's Teeth was over, but the commander himself had lost his life capturing Tun'Khashal, thereby ending the war. Back home, he received a posthumous triumph. Ulias’ brother was buried on the battlefield.
- ThemeUlias looked down on the field outside the colony, trying to remember where the mass graves had been. The outer colony had been abandoned. Everyone had drawn inside the citadel before the fighting had begun, and everything else had been burned down. It was among the ashes that Laranas found his final resting place, among countless allies and foes. Strangely, Tomtomgrad today resembled the way it had been then. Once more the town was abandoned and burned down, and instead an encampment stood atop the ruins, just out of fireball range from the black walls. As they surveyed the sight, Ulias felt very conscious of the presence of Richard the Tyrant not three paces from him. Fate was indeed peculiar, but it was not Ulias' place to question it. Ulias knew the shape of destiny. War drove some men mad. It allowed others to learn, and to redeem themselves. Ulias always intended to belong to the latter camp. To forgive, and to forget. Yet in such company, some part of him struggled to resist, and to feel otherwise. Had he truly forgiven? To come all this way, only to have the goal of helping Richard to free Tun'Khashal, who might have well played a part in his brother's death. As the most silent of the company, none looked to Ulias with any suspicion. What were clerics for, if not just to heal and stay quiet? Ulias almost smiled. As the guy at the back of the group, the most silent, it was quite easy for him to also be the most observant. Two members of their company worked for the Silver Protocol. Either the others had forgotten it, or they were too terrified to bring it up in front of Richard. What if they had played a part in TomTom's capture in Xhasl'Wlef? And there was the Keshanite who Mennas had adopted, and then the Gnomish Warden... they all had a reason to hold a grudge. For now, they held together. For now. They still needed the help of Sa Vard's most powerful sorcerer. Shaking his head and muttering a disgruntled prayer under his breath, Ulias again studied the fortress, all that remained of Tomtomgrad. It looked much like it had many years ago, though new spires rose above the parapets, each with a bright flag denoting its ownership by some joint company or commission. In the colonies, law belonged to those strong - or rich - enough the seize it, and those companies had been smart enough to build their headquarters inside the citadel, while everything outside had been plundered by the invading army. The walls themselves had the flags of half a dozen security companies which were paid to guard the city. Yet, the strange part was of course the encampment outside, with soldiers moving this way and that. As the company of misfits once again adjusted to their surroundings after their Teleport, Terrence Kingsgrace was the first to point out something unusual. "The camp..." he said, pointing at the standard in the middle of it. "That is the banner of Gnomeland. And beside it... Minaerum." "And that one." TumTum pointed out at yet another close to it, among the soldiers facing the keep. "That is the flag of Foral'tir. Of King Marley." "Here to avenge his dad by destroying the Wardens, perhaps? Because it looks like we are interrupting a siege." Aedelfelt said, from atop Richard's shoulder. "Never a dull moment. This takes me back to Rising Fire era... a lot of excitement in one day." Richard Cipher barely paid any attention to the rest of them. He glanced over his shoulder only once, and then began to walk towards Tomtomgrad. His adoptive daughter was the first to start running after him, asking him what he was doing, but he did not respond. With a sigh, Ulias heaved himself after them, and the rest of the party followed. Richard kept going in a straight line, to the edge of the Gnome camp. "Halt in the name of King Marley of Foral'tir and Gnomeland!" The soldiers who challenged them there were ignored, and Richard began to walk through their camp. A few tried firing arrows, but they were suddenly deflected by an invisible barrier. Most soldiers simply stared, caught in the middle of their morning affairs, and unsure of what exactly was happening. Almost before the camp had a chance to react, Richard and the party were already through to the other side, before the very gates of Tomtomgrad itself. His voice boosted by Clarion Call, Richard called up to the fortress garrison. From down below, Ulias could barely make out the helmeted heads of soldiers on the parapets. "Open this gate." Richard's voice boomed. "In whose name do you speak?" Somebody above answered almost as loudly. "I speak in my name alone. Richard Cipher. I am giving you sixty seconds to open this gate, before I break it down." A moment of silence descended upon the fortress and the plains around them, until Richard began to count, the numbers echoing throughout the wastes. Ulias looked to his companions, whose faces betrayed fear, horror and confusion. The numbers dragged on, one by one, and with each number Richard counted, the tension in Ulias only increased, until he was almost shivering. Behind them, the denizens of the besieging camp were forming up into battle lines, but had for now given up on attacking Richard. "Ten..." ... "Nine..." Then a groan, and Ulias dared to hope. The gates of Tomtomgrad began to swing open. Before they had even reached their limits, Richard Cipher was already walking through into the fortress. The courtyard was packed with soldiers, most of whom were Gnomes, though some of the colony’s original denizens were mixed in., They were arrayed in defensive squares under the shadows of the walls. Each square had a caster, ready to counterspell any fireballs thrown their way, and the banner of a militia company. Richard’s people had originally built this citadel purely for defence, but the gnomes clearly considered their position more secure, so many of the military stockades and warehouses at the sides of the great courtyard had been converted into shops and offices. In the corner of the plaza, however, there was one giant group of figures who did not appear to be soldiers. Their chains betrayed the truth of the matter. They were slaves, probably gathered in one place so they could not try to open the gates to the invading army. Ulias did not even have a chance to anticipate a bad feeling, before Richard's attention fell from the soldiers to the slaves. "Disgusting animals”, he mouthed, but he was not talking about the slaves. In his amplified voice, Richard called across the square. "I am here for Tun'Khashal. Bring him to me immediately... and break the chains of these slaves. They are all leaving with me." After a moment, the ranks parted, and what may have been the fort's commander stepped forward, dressed in rich silks of yellow and red. He was an elf, his face tattooed and pierced. Even without such, he would have looked ugly, features twisted and thick. "Welcome, Redwind!" the elf called in a light and almost soothing voice, despite his gruesome appearance, and spread his arms wide. "It has been a long time since Tomtomgrad has seen your face! Or myself, for that matter. I fought alongside you in-" "Don't make me count." Richard said, once - short and simple. Ulias found that the elf was studying him now, assessing the threat, before moving his attention to the rest of the company. "Are you here to lift the siege, Richard?" The elf said, perhaps trying to distract them. "Marley Merniso thinks that we murdered his father. Did you do it? If so, kindly let them know..." "One." Richard began to count. This time, it looked like it would only be to three. The elf glanced nervously at the soldiers around him. "Come now, Richard. Surely you do not think that we did it?" "Two." Richard counted, and Ulias was sure he could feel the very air around the sorcerer begin to heat up. The elf raised his hands into the air. "Alright, alright. You shall have them." Richard seemed to relax, slightly. That was the opening the elf was waiting for. A hand crossbow suddenly appeared in his grip, and he fired. Before Ulias could blink, a crackling bolt smashed into Richard's shoulder, and the sorcerer jerked back, as it cut through whatever protection he had. But he did not fall. "Three." Richard said. The very ground sighed, before everything turned red. It was far beyond anything that Ulias had ever witnessed or felt in the war. He was thrown off his feet, and the last thing he managed to see was a wave - not of fire - but of bodies hitting the ground. Everything turned white. Ulias forgot where he was for a moment, until his head began to clear. Rolling to his side, he looked past Richard's boot. The elf was on one knee, but the soldiers around him were gone. "I... missed..." Then Richard extended his hand. "Scorching Ray." A red line twirled from Richard's palm, and smacked into the elf's face, crumpling him into a heap of flesh and embers. Then Richard kept walking, up towards the keep's gates. People were screaming, running this way and that. With another deafening noise and a white flash, lightning turned the gates to splinters. Then Richard vanished inside. Ulias and the companions got back on their feet. Ulias realised he was squeezing his hands to fists so hard he was drawing blood, and it took him seconds to stop doing it. Every second this resembled the day years ago, more and more. Except this time, he was on the wrong side of history. He rushed to one of the nearest fallen soldiers, Healing magic at his fingertips, expecting to find a dead body once more. Falling to his knees, he cradled the head of a Gnome, only to find him bruised, but very much alive. It was the same for the rest of the garrison, with the exception of the elf. Richard had just knocked them out. TumTum, he then noticed, was busy with the slaves. Thulie the Protean followed to help her, and then the others. As they rushed to the side of the plaza, though, an errant soldier who had avoided the attack stepped forward, brandishing a short musket, his eyes full of desperation. He was standing in a doorway near where the slaves were gathered. Through the open doors, Ulias saw a glimpse of huddling masses within. Civilians, hiding in the citadel from the siege. “Don’t take another step forward!” The man warned. He looked to be half a gnome and half something else. His hands shook as he pointed the deadly weapon at TumTum. “Get the hell out of here! I swear I’ll shoot!” He did not once look at the slaves, and didn’t even seem aware of their presence. “Go inside!” Ulias cried urgently. “We mean no harm to your people. We are only here for these-” He didn’t have time to finish. While the militiaman glanced at him, Thulie rushed forward, arms literally stretching to grab the firearm, pulling it away before he headbutted the youth in the face, sending him reeling back. The dwarf hesitated, and took a moment to run over to slam the doors of the hall closed, avoiding meeting the eyes of the people inside, who huddled away from the daylight. Behind him, he heard a sound of metal on stone. Chains clattered to the ground, first one by one, and then in scores, as the slaves helped each other come loose. The soldiers on the walls, meanwhile, were shouting in alarm, but were left leaderless and without direction. For now, they were safely ignored. TumTum rallied the slaves and led them up towards the front of the keep, out of range of crossbow bolts from the walls. Moments later, Richard stepped out of the keep, cradling a dirty and naked man in his arms, his red hair knotted and long from neglect. Ulias had no trouble recognising Tun'Khashal. He had seen him kneel in defeat, and offer his hands to be shackled. Had those wrists been free a day since then? Richard placed the man on the cobbles at his feet, and then stared defiantly across the plaza. When he looked to the slaves, shock registered on his face, and Ulias soon found out why. It was TumTum who pointed it out. "They were citizens of Tomtomgrad, father”, she said, looking lost. Most of the slaves were indeed orcs, hobgoblins, goblins and other such, though at the back a few gnomes huddled, trying to avoid the fearsome sorcerer’s attention. "So. This is the freedom of New Talland. How many years has it been..." Richard raised his hands, palms upwards, as if they were dirty, as if sand or blood were running through his fingers. "How long did we abandon you to this fate?" Richard fell to one knee beside the comatose Tun'Khashal, and placed his face in his hands. He had not wept when TomTom was taken, but he heaved and sobbed now. To see his citizens with scars on their wrists and feet from being chained, with marks on their backs from whippings... Even the children. "I am sorry..." Richard managed, his voice carrying across the plaza. "Sorry for leaving you.” To Ulias' own surprise, the slaves walked up the stairs, but not in anger. They placed their hands on him, and on one another. One of them placed a cloak around Tun'Khashal. "Chairman!" they cried. "Redwind! Redwind! The fire is rising!" Prologue - II Part 3, Richard.After the War of the God's Teeth, Richard makes his way back home... to find a peace deal signed in his absence.Suddenly Zanathan felt a force throw him against the wall “Tell me who bought your loyalty, and I may spare your life”, Richard said, his mind concentrated on keeping the Minister under his hold. “What the fuck are you talking about Mister Chairman?” “The war, the peace you brought upon us. Who made you sign it?” “The peace? Is this about the treaty?” “HOW DARE YOU? How dare you call this a peace? Our only port down south, sold out, like all the inhabitants, to that deranged council of Wardens. How, how could you?” Richard said tightening his hold over the minister’s throat “Did you sell me out, just like you sold out the notables from New Mafalgonia?” He rolled his eyes at the word ‘notables’. Before the coming of Arosh, the halfbreed had effectively been a mob enforcer. “Wh-?” “Enough.” Zanathan replied. After some time, Richard stood up, pulling Tun'khashal to his feet as well. The apprentice had woken up, and was looking about him, confused. When the dust settled, Ulias noticed that the rest of the garrison was gathering in the square below, weapons in hand. Richard looked over the heads of the slaves, and addressed the soldiers. "Throw down your weapons. Or die." It took less time than Ulias would have imagined. Seeing their fallen companions, the soldiers discarded their arms. Richard pointed at the fortress gates, and then twisted his hand in the air. The doors swung open. "Get out." he commanded. Most of the soldiers were mercenaries, with a smattering of militiamen among them. The mercenaries knew better than to resist, and yielded with grace. The militias seemed to consider fighting once more, but upon seeing their allies leave, they too began to march outside. Once they were gone, Richard led the companions up to the fortress walls. Looking down from Tomtomgrad, Ulias could see King Marley's encampment below, and the Colonial defenders being arrested by his soldiers. Richard waited, and neither Ulias nor his companions dared to interrupt. The camp below stirred, and the soldiers parted. Carried on a chair by four elves, a Gnome wearing a horned crown was brought before Tomtomgrad. King Marley the Bastard. Another elf stood by his side, carrying the personal flag of the Kingdom of Foral'tir - three pyramids, a serpent and the horned crown of the elven desert kings of old, superimposed over an orange sun."Chairman Redwind!" The bastard son of Mennas called from below. "It seems you have done our work for us! So you are here to help us avenge my father, against the Warden filth?" Kingship over an elven nobility had rubbed off on the half-gnome. While his companions did not sweat in the desert heat out of their natural elven grace, he clearly had an enchantment to replicate this effect. Behind his chair followed a pet to befit his station. A tamed chimera, obediently trailing the procession, its collar adorned with emeralds. "I am only here to free a friend." Richard called back, disgust visible at the edge of his mouth. "Take your army and go home. You will find no justice here." King Marley squinted up at them and then lowered his head for a moment. "You!" he practically barked the word, before taking a sip from a goblet and passing it back to a servant. "My brother!" Ulias saw Terrence Kingsgrace stiffen up, and place his hand on the hilt of his sword. "You honour me, King Marley." Terrence responded, not sounding honoured at all. "What are you doing here, brother?" Marley called back, whimsically. "With our father's enemies by your side? You freed Richard's daughter from Gnomeland's dungeons, denying us a chance to learn the truth.” His eyes briefly flittered onto TumTum. “If not for Dakara, you would be dead by now, Kingsgrace." His pet seemed to sense his changing mood, as the chimera’s reptilian head hissed. The animal tensed slightly, but none of the elves standing within arm’s reach of it seemed to be concerned, trusting in the beast’s training. "Richard is not guilty." Terrence Kingsgrace replied, sternly, straightening as he said so. "The real killer is still out there. Your Grace." The title was an afterthought, and he made no haste to add it. King Marley Merniso shared an amused glance with his elven viziers, and then massaged his jaw, as if he had been slapped. His other hand idly reached down from the chair, and the beast behind him thrust its three heads against his fingers, each of them eager to be petted. "Terrence, my dear brother. I see you are also keeping company with the Warden who you also freed from our dungeons. One of those who plotted the gunpowder revolt in Serral!" Pike shrunk back, surprised to have been noticed. Terrence paid him no heed, and leaned over the wall. "Your Grace, this is not what it seems. If you were to see the pile of bodies inside, you would see we are no friends to the Wardens... least of all Richard." King Marley leaned to his advisors and whispered. When he returned to gaze upon them, he barked a single laugh, which resounded off the fortress walls. "If the Wardens did not kill our father, and if it was not Richard, then, pray tell, who was it, dear brother?" Terrence Kingsgrace was about to speak once again, but TumTum placed her hand on his wrist. "Don't”, she warned. "He's just baiting us. I wager he is not even here because he really suspected the Wardens..." A look of recognition hit Ter. "Of course. Marley is just here to prove himself. Prove himself worthy of the Crown." "And he sees you as his competition." TumTum said, but she need not have emphasized that point. Terrence Kingsgrace turned back to the army from Foral'tir below. "Your Grace. All we know, what little we know, is no doubt familiar to you as well. We went to Xhas'Wlef for answers, and found none. And there are no answers to find here." "So be it, brother." Marley said, stepping down from his throne. Behind him, all three of the chimera’s heads growled, eyeing the people who were the source of their master’s ire. "You leave me with no choice. You are an exile and a traitor, and now you withhold the truth about our father's death from me. I challenge you! Face me before these gates, for the world to see. Refuse, and my army shall attack, and drag the lot of you to Mennastur in cages!" An outraged hubbub erupted in their little company. TumTum glanced for support from her father. "And why shouldn't I just kill the lot of you?" Richard was leaning against the wall, Tun'Khashal by his side. "Because you're clearly not the type, despite everything." King Marley waved behind him, reminding them that the garrison was being tied up and led to the back of the Gnomish camp. "Despite your reputation, there must be some Good in you. Or you would still be Chairman." "Let me do it. Let me face him." Terrence growled, gathering all eyes onto himself. He had to practically restrain himself, his composure snapped. "If it was not the Wardens, if it was not Richard... it has to be him. With or without Garrel, or Outsiders. It has to be. Otherwise-" "If I win, I take you prisoner, and interrogate you." Marley cried, cutting him short. "If I win... you are mine." Terrence smacked a fist onto the walls. "You submit to my scrutiny, as a Lawyer Paladin, and lift this exile." Marley Merniso smiled, and drew his sword. "Blood and light, brother!"
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Post by kerrah on Jun 25, 2018 13:07:11 GMT
Chapter 18 Two Kings
“This is crazy. What the hell are you looking to accomplish?”
Terrence did not answer. He was going through his armour, checking every bit to make sure they were secure.
In the cosmic order, Law had a bad rep. Most of his current companions seemed to be inclined to Chaos. Including TumTum, unfortunately. The dwarf, Ulias, seemed a reliable type, as stereotypes of his kind indicated, but other than that they were all some variety of ne’er-do-well. He had expected them all to fawn over Richard Cipher like a litter of lost puppies since Ter had been left as the only one vocally opposing him before now. Apparently many of them held issues about the man that had so often seemed as some sort of a messiah for the chaotic types…
The lawyer shook his head and tried to not think of the red-haired tyrant standing nearby. He had to focus on the task at hand.
Marley.
He didn’t truly know if the bastard could have killed his - their - father. The whole circumstance seemed a dizzying maze of misdirections and subterfuge, cronies and catspaws, murders and skullduggery. But who had more to gain from Mennas’ death than his potential heirs? Mennas had made Gnomeland an elective monarchy, to grant its citizens a say over their own rulership and ensure the King had a mandate, but he had been particularly quiet about who he himself thought should succeed him.
Ter briefly recalled Mennas’ words about the ancient Crown of Keshan. Someday, mayhaps you shall wear it for me. He had done his best to try to forget, but the statement would not leave him. What had it meant?
So far, there was no sign of Mennas’ heirs being attacked, and some of the actions by this orcess seemed unrelated, but who knew. The first king of the renewed kingdom had had many secrets. Too many, perhaps.
King Marley Merniso was being suited up by a small cadre of elven squires, on their knees next to their dimunitive ruler. Even the process of being dressed was somehow made into a spectacle by the ceremonies which Foral’tir had inherited. Each of the boys had their own tasks, and each saw to it with lowered eyes, their slender fingers putting the elaborate suit of armour together from pieces like it was a practised dance. A bard in bright purple garments sat not far away, providing music.
The king himself stood still, a practised smile frozen on his face and a cup of some bevarage in his extended hand. There was no telling what went on behind those dark brown eyes. Body guards stood close at hand, and other courtiers buzzed about the place, occasionally offering an encouraging comment to their monarch, who accepted them graciously, though likely not hearing a word.
All Ter had was five people. Seven if you counted Richard and Thulie, which he didn’t. TumTum had agreed to help him wear his full armour, which he usually didn’t since it took such along time to put on. The others mostly stood around, trying to hide their discomfort with what was happening, and with the scorching heat raining down from above in a golden downpour.
The one who had finally broken their peace had been Pike. What was Ter looking to accomplish, he’d asked.
Ter thought that was obvious. Not only did he want to prove himself, and put a potential enemy in his place. What’s more, if Marley was really behind this all, then Ter would beat that confession out of him.
“Just sit and watch”, he answered simply.
With his gear in order, he stepped forward. He could feel TumTum’s judging eyes on his back, but tried to ignore them. He had to focus on the fight ahead.
Marley, too, stepped forward. The music ceased. One of the squires had set a silken cape across one of his shoulders. As he came into the ring that a wizard had drawn on the ground, he dramatically swung his hand across, tearing the cape off and tossing it out the ring, sending it billowing into the sand. As he did, the gnome’s body started to grow, an enlargement spell taking effect to bring him to an equal height with his opponent. He still had the proportions of a gnome, which gave him a strange, uncanny look, much different from when Tumtum did the same.
“More theatrics?” Ter asked, unimpressed.
“People are watching”, the King responded. “Might as well put on a show.” He gave a wink and a smirk.
A courtier stepped forward. She was a priestess of Muhar, and had offered to officiate the duel. Since there were no truly neutral parties present, Ter had agreed to let her. She stood at the edge of the ring and said a short prayer, beseeching her God to judge the battle fairly, and guide the hand of the righteous party.
After she finished, she cleared her throat. “No magic or supernatural powers, except what has been consented to before the battle. No magic items. No hidden weapons. No help from third parties. No enchantments. Leaving the ring counts as defeat. Tapping out counts as defeat. Blade on one’s neck counts as defeat. Losing consciousness counts as defeat. You are not to try to kill one another, but your survival can not be guaranteed, since you are using true weapons. Unless I judge a clear killing intent, your guilt in one another’s possible death will thus be cleared. Have you both heard and understood the rules?”
Ter hastened to nod. It just about matched what he’d expected. She asked: “Terrence Kingsgrace, do you consent to your opponent dueling under the effect of an Enlarge Person spell?”
He paused briefly. It would hardly be paladinlike to deny it. It didn’t grant any sort of advantage, but instead brought them to the same level. Most dueling practise was performed with opponents of the same rough size as yourself, and he got the idea that Marley practised with his elven lackeys while enlarged like this. “Yes”, he said simply.
The cleric proceeded to cast a dispel on each of them, purposefully avoiding the enlarge spell, and then detected for magic. She was suitably satisfied with the results.
Ter raised his shield and readied his sword. His legs went to a loose stance, ready and adaptive. His opponent looked slightly more stiff, a smaller round shield at his forearm rather than Ter’s big square one. Their swords were both short, optimal for shielded combat like this. Marley’s was straight, Ter’s curved. Bodily, the former Keshanite only had a few inches of height advantage; Mennas’ bastard was tall for a gnome, but he had not grown past Ter even with the spell.
They approached each other slowly, starting to circle. Ter had had to borrow a helmet to protect his head, but thankfully it fit him well. Marley’s head was encased in an ornate visage of a gryphon’s.
Just when Ter was about to make his first, exploratory swipe to test the other’s reflexes, Marley spoke out loud. For the audience. “Now’s your last chance, brother. Confess your crimes, and denounce your claim on the throne. I may let you off easy.”
“Shut up”, the paladin responded.
He proceeded to go at him. Instead of a single strike to test reflexes, it was a series of swipes. He kept his legs active, circling around while staying a healthy distance from the border of the ring, and enjoyed the clear, strong sounds of steel on steel as Marley met each blow.
Ter expected a counter, but instead the King jumped back, and raised his voice again. “You jumped at the chance to fight me, brother. Why, I wonder? Hoping to take a rival out of the game?” There was a cruel sting to the words.
Ter moved closer and tried for the helmet, hoping to perhaps cut off one of the gryphon’s ears. When Marley ducked, the paladin saw his opening and suddenly rammed forward, shield on shield. He could knock the other out of the ring and win immediately.
Ducking had weakened Marley’s footing, but not sufficiently. He met the ramming, held his ground for a split second, and then slipped off. He tried to slice at Ter’s legs as he went, but the adoptive brother’s greaves protected him.
Ter placed himself further from the edge, eyes on Marley as he tightened the straps on his shield briefly. The King started taunting him again. “Why the silence, brother? I thought you lawyers were trained for speech-”
He was cut off when Ter suddenly kicked dust his way. The ground wasn’t sandy enough to really send anything high enough to hit his eyes, but it did make him flinch, and he barely raised his shield in time to protect himself from the following sword blow.
“Shut up”, Ter grunted as he caught a riposte with his own shield. Wooden chips were sent flying from the big barrier, shaved off by the blade.
This time Marley did stay quiet. He continued the assault, trying to wedge his own shield behind Ter’s to pull it to the side and stab him. It was an unexpectedly aggressive move, and showed why they were using short swords rather than long ones. Ter parried the blow partially, but the screeching sound of the blade scratching across the belly of his armour was grating, like a signal of his near-defeat. Just a little lower, and it might have reached a gap in the suit.
Marley smirked inside his helmet. His mouth was not visible, but Ter could tell from his eyes. “Brother, give-”
Ter didn’t give him time to gloat or taunt. He went for another shield rush, and this time angled the shield in a way to block off Marley’s whole sword arm, using the breadth of his shield to prevent it from reaching him, while Marley’s own smaller buckler couldn’t match the feat. Ter managed two clumsy stabs at the King’s side before his opponent disengaged.
“If you don’t stop talking”, Ter announced while they were catching their breaths and moving away from the edge again. “I am going to hammer that helmet shut to quiet you.”
Marley sounded like he was going to say something, but decided against it.
They dueled for an indeterminate amount of time, exchanging blows. Ter’s wooden shield was giving off chips, and the sun began to peek through it at a point, but he could tell that Marley’s was bent at one edge. Each had scratches on their armour. The spectators looked on and occasionally gasped or gave a slight cheer when one or the other made gains, but mostly the scene was silent aside form the sounds they made.
Things took a sudden step forward when Ter managed a hard blow on Marley’s gauntlet during one of their bouts. The king half-dropped his sword, and Ter took the chance to slam his shield into him and go for a raging stab into his waist, trying to find a gap.
To his triumph, he heard a sharp yell from his opponent, and felt the blade slide into a crevice, but at the same time he found their legs getting tangled up. Things happened much too fast as both men were sent tumbling onto the ground, their armours clanging into each other. Ter’s helmet slammed into a rock on the ground and his vision blurred from the blow.
As he was scrambling back to his feet, hoping he was still inside the ring, a blow hit his leg from behind, and he could almost feel the tendons of the back of his knee snap loose. Now it was his turn to shout in pain. A mild cheer echoed around him, and TumTum yelled something in alarm.
He managed to hop out of reach on one leg and get a bearing of his surroundings. They hadn’t come out of the ring. The fight was not to the first blood, so neither had lost, yet. As Marley got back up as well, blood ws trickling down his greaves. He seemed to have more mobility, but he was still injured.
“Give up”, the king said, all charm and joke gone out of his tone. “I can knock you down with one blow, with your leg like that.” Ter couldn’t put his foot on the ground; straightening his leg caused searing pain to shoot through his body. He had to fight hard against the instinct to heal himself.
“Come at me”, Terrence said through gritted teeth. “If you don’t bleed out before you make it here.”
“What is this foolishness?” A deep voice suddenly asked, very loud. Ter though it was just a spectator talking to another, but he saw Marley’s face tighten, staring off the ring, so he glanced that way as well.
Gazi Hasir stood not five paces from them, a scowl on his face and a small cadre of Blackguard standing silently behind him.
“This is none of your business!” Marley spat. “I am dueling this murderous traitor, to-”
“You are playing at games, and wasting everyone’s time.” The Serene King’s voice cracked down like a whip. He had aged since his redemption out of fiendhood, and now looked to be passing from his middle years to being an old man. His hair was turning ashen and his facial skin hung a little loose, but his eyes were sharp and full of fury. “In Nomesh they were wondering where you’d gone. We all should have guessed it would be something foolish like this. I am here to bring you to stand for yourself against my granddaughter. You are free to declare war between Foral’tir and foreign nations after you’ve lost the election, but I will not let you drag Gnomeland down into it as well.” His right hand was shaking, the fingers squeezed to a fist so tight Ter imagined he would see blood trickling past the fingers any second now.
Marley hesitated. “We are done any way. I will finish off this cur, and-”
Hasir stepped into the ring, making a point of kicking the sand to break the circle. “No. If the orphan boy wants to stand for his throne as well, then he’ll come with us. You’re not going to ‘accidentally’ kill him.” His eyes looked toward Ter for the first time, and the paladin felt an instinct to bow his head in reverence and/or shame, which he only barely beat.
Then the king’s gaze fell on Richard, who watching this exchange coolly from the side.
A silence took over the scene. Ter had the distinct suspicion that telepathic communication was taking place. He considered laying hands on himself since the duel had been interrupted, but decided to bide his time for now.
Finally, Hasir turned back to Marley. “We are leaving. And you’ll be a good, courteous boy and come with me.” It was not a question, request or demand. It was a statement of fact.
Marley opened his mouth to say something, but after a brief consideration closed it again. Ter healed his wounds.
“I can’t stay with you guys anymore”, Richard said as they gathered up away from the Foral’tir court packing up their camp. “It’s too dangerous. We’re all untrackable, but I am way too high profile, and too many people want me dead right now. You guys will be able to fend for yourselves.”
The group shared looks between themselves. Thulie and Bob were a little bit away, waiting to go with their boss. Ter felt a relief which he did not express.
“We’re going to investigate the Raven Prince”, TumTum said hesitantly. “What will you do?”
“I’ll go to the Planes”, the chairman said vaguely. “There’s a lot of bad guys, neutral guys and good guys over there who don’t like me or Mennas. I’ll leave the material plane for you to look into.” It was hard to tell if he actually thought TumTum and her allies would find anything down here. He probably thought it was just busywork. “Don’t take off the anti-scrying stuff. Not even to sleep. Not even to piss.”
The kobold rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah, dad.” She caught herself, and gave a nervous laugh from having called him that. For a moment Ter thought he saw happiness in Richard’s eyes, but it must have just been a phantom of years past.
“I’ll send the slaves somewhere safe. Let’s go”, the red-headed sorcerer said and turned to his people. He did not say anything more, but led them to the restless mob of freedmen standing on confusion outside the elven camp. Just like that, Richard was gone, and Ter’s group was free again.
He took a slight breath of relief, which TumTum caught. She turned to him, but instead of the snippy comment he expected, she said: “You fought well. Marley deserved to be cut, though I think you did too.”
He looked out into the distance, to Tomtomgrad. No one had conquered the castle. It would still remain in the demesne of unrule, as he’d heard New Talland referred to. Just with fewer inhabitants.
“I may not like Richard, but we did some good here, at least”, he said with some reluctance. “For a while there I thought maybe Marley was the one who killed Mennas, but I doubt it. He’s too simple and vainglorious to do something so big without making it obvious it’s him. He’s just a garden variety of greedy tool.”
“A garden variety?” Ulias asked, confused by the idiom.
Pike chuckled. “Nevermind that. We need to get going. Knowing our luck, the bad guys have an informant here and they’re waiting to swoop down on us the moment Richard warps out.” He peered at the sorcerer, who was creating a gateway to lead his huddled masses through. Ter wondered where they would go. Back to Xhas’Wlef? Would Richard trust his own former nation that he had denounced? Somewhere else?
“You’re right”, the paladin said. And he felt like a paladin for the first time since all this had begun. “It’s been years since I’ve been to Mullhaven. While we’re there, I want to try out the Dragonlord’s Bundt Cake. I missed my chance last time.” He smiled a bit.
They stood still for a moment. Robin cleared his throat nervously and asked: “So… has someone learned to cast teleports here, or…?”
TumTum rushed toward Richard, who had closed down the gateway and was getting ready to leave to the outer planes, yelling at him to wait up.
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Post by Timeon on Jun 29, 2018 19:34:29 GMT
Chapter 19 MullhavenMAP OF MULLHAVENLike a rock dropped onto the ice, and plunged into a winter lake, Robin was transported from Xhas'Wlef to one of the coldest places he had ever felt. Gone was the baking sun of Tomtomgrad. Above, Robin regarded grey and purple skies, and only gloom ahead. Biting wind made it right through his clothes. Bumping into him, his companions fumbled with their cloaks and equipment. "Where in blazes are we, The Abyss?" Terrence Kingsgrace shouted, still wearing much of his armour from the duel. "Exactly where we asked to be." TumTum called back through the mournful wind. "We should be at the crossroads of Valtat, Kraldur and the Empire." Robin breathed, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the far north of the world. It was still early evening, but there was no comparing this particular wasteland to the one they had been in before. They were surrounded by pine trees. Leaves and twigs crunched beneath their boots, and owls hooted unseen. Robin had been born in the Empire, just across the border from this spot. The Horn should have been his home. It felt strange to him being here, though familiar, too. Just over the ridge in front of them, the jagged silhouette of a mountain range soon became obvious in the distance. The formation ended suddenly, with one mountain quite unlike the rest, its proportions too perfect and uniform for nature. Almost as if it had been carved from the rock. It took Robin only a moment longer to realise what he was looking at. "Welcome to Mullhaven”, he announced, gesturing his companions onwards and leading them over the ridge. It gave way suddenly, and a plain stretched outwards before them. These were killing fields before one of the strongest fortresses the world had ever known, watered with the blood of many would-be conquerors. A generation ago, the King of Valtat fought a battle here to seize the Free City and had been slain. Mullhaven was one of the wonders of the world and had been built to hide a relic. It had proven to be a Godshard. Though unconquered for millennia, the city's own protector, Leslie, murdered the Lord Marshal, took his place, and opened the gates to the Empire twenty years ago. The Rising Fire then liberated the city with the help of Charlie, but not before the Godshard was taken to Orsad, triggering the cataclysm which destroyed it, and left Robin an orphan in Talland. He had come full circle, to the point of his own origin. "That looks like a long walk to the city." Ulias remarked, shifting uncomfortably as he took in the sights, his arms shivering. To someone from this side of the God’s Teeth, a dwarf unused to snow felt like an oxymoron. "Not much choice if we want to keep a low profile. I had to take the long way to smuggle gunpowder into Gnomeland for the same reason." TumTum cut in, and Robin caught her avoiding Terrence's gaze as she spoke of that crime. "The world ain't like it used to be. Not since the Godshards awoke. If we teleport straight into Mullhaven, we would trigger some sort of alarm." "Let's get on with it then." Pike puffed his cheeks, adjusted his backpack, and took the first step over the ridge. As they began to walk, they noticed a shimmering haze of lights around Mullhaven, almost like a halo. After an hour or two, they realised that they were the campfires of an army camped about the city. Robin hoped they had not stumbled across their second siege of the day. The farmhouses jutting here and there from the snow seemed abandoned, perhaps out of fear of the soldiers, or to seek refuge in the city. The plateau that was Mullhaven rose before them as they drew nearer. They found that the cobbled road winding up towards the city was still open to travellers, despite the army. Merchants and peasants soon mingled with them on the road, making for the city even as the sun was setting. As the light of day began to fade, shadows lengthened from every ridge and tree, as if trying to grab them. It was almost a relief to draw near to the campfires of the army outside Mullhaven. The questions as to who the soldiers were would soon be answered, as Robin identified the first of the banners planted beside the road. It was the banner of Utheim. It was rumoured that Utheim was entering into an alliance with the Raven Prince. This was not another siege, but a preparation for a campaign. It explained why common folk were still travelling unmolested up to the city. Perhaps this will be easy after all, Robin dared to send to Lenona, after explaining out loud the different house sigils of the Utheim banners coming into view. As tents and the camps of busy men began to flank them on the road, they found themselves all but ignored. A merchant and his wagon ahead of them cleared the path, and another half hour passed before at last a throng of soldiers challenged them. Robin saw TumTum and Terrence position their hands closer to their sheathed weapons, and raised his hand to put them at ease. As the soldiers encircled them, a bearded human with the crest of Utheim on his tabard walked up to Robin. "Easy there, fellows. This is just a routine check. What brings you here?" Robin hesitated for a moment, before his memories brought him back to Talland. Not his beginnings there, as an apprentice to the druid, Erthoon, but afterwards, integrating with his fellow Atarites in Underfall, listening to the sermons of Father Paulos against the Empire. Robin quickly made the sign of Atar, followed by the heretical half-fisted gesture before his lips to honour the Raven Prince and his Prophet, Charlie. Robin promptly kissed his fist and spread his fingers out, as if releasing a messenger bird into the air. "May the Face of Wrath destroy Reginald, the Pretender. May the Prince that was promised return from exile, to end the blasphemy of his mother." ""Easy there." The captain chuckled and raised his palms into the air, as if warding off a madman. Robin hid a smirk. "I see, I see. Another pilgrim. Well, we wouldn't want to keep you from your messiah. I warn you, though, you'll have some stiff competition if you are hoping to stay in an inn, with the royal wedding in a couple of days." Robin adjusted himself and grunted, pushing his way past the captain, who let him go without any further trouble. Even any curiosity about their strange assortment of people seemed to be explained by the pilgrim story. The soldiers parted, and Robin wondered what kind of trouble they had faced with Atarite heretics in the past days to cause that sort of reaction. The Atarite heresy had begun as a movement to offer freedom for Atarites to worship as they please, without being oppressed by the Ecclesiastical Office of the Empire and its Whisperers and Speakers. In the end, few denied that its radical elements had warped it into a movement of violence and anarchy. As they exited from the other side of the camp, they found the gates and walls of Mullhaven rising before them. They were gargantuan, larger than any work of man, dwarf or elf which Robin had ever seen before. The walls were not built of blocks of stone, but were what was left after the lowest slopes of the mountain had been quarried. At the city gates, they were challenged once again, but this time, not by soldiers. Robin had also heard about the ascetic order of fanatics Charlie had started in Mullhaven - the Crows. Dressed in chains and rags, their faces covered by masks depicting Atar's Face of Wrath, they interrogated Robin until they were satisfied he was truly a believer, and that the rest of the party was not here to harm the Raven Prince. They did not think to ask about the Pillar of Light. While they had not been sure what to expect, once they were inside the city, they were still surprised to find throngs of creatures of every race brushing shoulders in narrow streets. Companies of men and women dressed in loose imitation of Imperial Atarite legionnaires patrolled the streets, wearing the mark of the Blackbird on their chests. Humans and dwarves of Utheim sometimes walked with them. There were soldiers from farther off lands as well, perhaps accompanying diplomatic missions. Residents kept out of the way of all of them. The Raven Prince had not taken this city peacefully. "Where are you leading us?" TumTum overtook Robin, and placed herself in front of him, hands on her hips, as the crowds milled by. Robin grimaced and scratched the back of his head. His Atarite knowledge had gotten them inside, but he still had never been to Mullhaven before. "We need to find a base of operations." "You heard the captain. The city is full. Follow me and we'll find the poorer quarters. Trust me, I know how to get us a space. You may be a rat man, but I have had to actually live like one when laying low." Her voice was jovial, but he sensed bitterness underneath. "Fine by me." Robin nodded and looked over the rest of the forlorn bunch. "I'm not here to tell any of you what to do." He had learned long ago that more often than not, it was easier to give people what they wanted than to fight and cause strife. By the time darkness had finished overtaking the city, leaving only the moon and stars above, TumTum had found them a rather questionable inn that had been set up in the storage rooms of an abandoned line of fortifications. The innkeeper was a native dwarf covered in tattoos from head to toe. As he led them down a narrow passage, he raised five fingers in the air. "Five rules. You break one, you lose a finger. First rule, no violence. Second, no stealing. Third, no bringing trouble from the outside, inside. Fourth, you pay on time. Fifth, no noise!" He barked the last one imposingly. After bundling them into a musty room with no windows, lit only by a single window, he pulled the door shut. There was no lock. Piles of straw were all they had to sit on. "I never thought I would miss Serral." Pike the Gnome thought helpful to contribute. "Or I, Xhasl'Wlef." Terrence added, looking haunted. “I doubt this is the place to find bundt cake at.” "I never thought I would feel like an actual rat." Robin murmured, picking up a bug of some kind from among the straw. "Deep breaths, and toughen it out!" Lenona grunted and launched herself onto the nearest pile of straw. "This is not a pleasure trip in the Gnomish Colonies." She lounged on the uncomfortable bedding like it was a fine feather bed, just to show off. Robin had to restrain a chuckle. As the party began to put down their belongings, Ulias simply shrugged. "It's not so different from a ship's hold." "What exactly is the plan?" Pike the Gnome threw up his hands and rounded on them, facing them all. They were frozen halfway through unpacking. Robin could feel Pike's gaze resting on him, as if blaming him for getting them tangled in all of this. "If Richard didn't do it, then why chase the rest of that story into this pit alone?" His was sharp, but the volume restrained, since the walls were probably thin enough for even a gnome like him to punch through if he were inclined to. "I’m with the Silver Protocol." Robin awkwardly ran his finger among the straw underneath himself, willing himself to keep eye contact. "The Protocol has charged TomTom and Garrel both with the murder of King Mennas. The Pillar of Light could be here." Well done, hun. You did well, Lenona sent him, sounding proud that he’d held his own, and cleared her throat. She said out loud: “He’s right. We are doing our duty.” The gnome folded his hands between his back and stuck his chin out. "First, your Silver Protocol attacks Xhas'Wlef. Then Terrence Kingsgrace blames Marley Merniso for the murder. And now you want us to take on the Raven Prince? I am having serious doubts about our so called plan. We should...” He hesitated a little, seeming to second guess himself. “...be offering our information to actual authorities. Have you even spoken to the Protocol since yesterday?" Lenona stiffened up. "We were given a mission. To investigate Magelle Moraqshed. We were-" "Thanks Lenona. But I can handle this." Robin put a hand on her shoulder, and took the sight of them all in. Ulias, Terrence, TumTum and Pike. He cleared his throat. "I am not saying we do it alone. I am saying that we stick together, and keep in mind that whoever did this managed to kill a King and blame it on Richard. Twenty years ago, Ahriman nearly destroyed Sa Vard. We can't take any risks." "Enough." Pike spat on the cobbles, and Robin flinched. He thought he actually saw a vein pulse on the gnome’s forehead. "You're just a bunch of imitators, trying to be heroes. Are you hearing yourselves? You're talking about Ahriman and the Rising Fire. You've let this get to your heads, all of you. You're a bunch of fools who grew up in the shadows of heroes, and you think this is your chance to shine. You think this is a game or a story. Well, it's more serious than that. There's more at stake than your pride." Anticipating Lenona's familiar rage, Robin tightened his grip on her shoulder. He found her muscles as tense as he guessed they would be. She shrugged him off, as Pike kept talking. "You, rat boy. I bet this is all a chance for you to prove yourself to the Covenant. Yes, you should be working with your superiors on this one. Instead, you helped Richard escape, while your own commander was trying to get to him! Have you even contacted them since? Or are you just trying to steal all the glory? And Lenona Tullen, I am sorry that your uncle killed TomTom, and you feel you need to make up for it. But you know what? You don't. It's not your burden to bear." Somehow, those words managed to deflate Lenona, and her shoulders sagged. Pike rounded on the other victims in the room remaining. "Ulias, you're not even here for Mennas. You're looking for a relic, and think destiny has put you on some magnificent quest. Well, when the first one of us gets murdered, I hope that serves as a wakeup call and sends you home, for your sake. Terrence, TumTum. You two have had everything in life given to you on a silver platter, and instead of appreciating it and learning from it, you've run off from home to try and be better than your fathers." Evidently, Pike was finished, as he let his head droop, and went silent. Robin expected some last barb. Instead, the wizard let out a "Bah!" as he walked out of the room. A shocked moment passed between them. "It's fine." Ulias' voice was soothing. "It's been a long day. That walk alone could have been the death of me. Yesterday was no easier. We need to rest. A few days, if not more. It will be no easy task figuring out if Garrel has the Pillar, and I wager others will make their move to seize it, long before we can get close to it." "The dwarf speaks sense." Terrence admitted with seeming reluctance. Then he began to unbuckle what was left of his dented armour, the danger finally passed. "My feet, my legs... no, my whole body is killing me. We need to rest and think. Too much has happened. Too much is happening that we don't know. The Silver Protocol could storm in for the Pillar tonight, for all we know." "That's not how these things work." TumTum sighed. "If they came in muskets blazing, the Pillar would be hidden away or moved in minutes. If the Protocol is here, they'll be keeping as low a profile as us. Hey, for all we know, you're in touch with the Protocol right now and you aren't telling us, Robin!" Just as Robin was about to rebuke the claim, the door opened again. Pike closed it behind himself, his face red and his breathing fast. “Come to apol-” Ulias started off in a somewhat patronising tone, only to be cut off. “He was down there”, the gnome hissed. “I saw him talking to the barkeep.” “Who?” Robin stood up, thinking of Richard, Marley, or… “The man from the warehouse”, Pike answered through gritted teeth, looking over his shoulder at the door he was leaning on, as if afraid it would be kicked in at any second. “The man working with the orc gunslinger. He moved on for now, but he looked like he was looking for someone.” “Or some people”, Robin said, feeling deflated. It looked like their stay in Mullhaven wasn’t going to be very restful after all. ---
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Post by kerrah on Jul 8, 2018 7:31:27 GMT
Intermission The Limits of PatienceYears of devotion and practice, not to mention the time he’d spent with the Rising Fire, had taught Hechin patience. But even so, every man had his limits. His finger tapped on the armrest of the chair he sat on. The room was mostly empty around him, save for a collection of souvenirs from past missions. Normally he could have entertained himself by thinking about the stories behind each one, but a woman’s freckled face kept interrupting his attempts. As he fumed, the faint sounds of footsteps carried to his ears from the hallway outside. Beatrice Brent had a lot to answer for. As far as the Protocol was concerned, New Braveport had been a success; TomTom had been handed over to them and Richard had stepped down. Only two people had died. The orcish admiral, Killgore, had slain their agent, Elinia. In retribution, Beatrice Brent had in turn killed the orc. She was the only one left alive with blood on her hands. Hechin had converted Killgore and his pirates to Solarin during his Rising Fire days. His hand made a fist and relaxed, that detail making the whole affair that much more personal. It wasn’t the first time that Hechin, with self-aware irony, considered whether they should limit recruitment into the Protocol from among adventurers. That’s the lot which Brent had been recruited from, adventuring with someone from the Protocol on a mission, and finding her way in. The best people in the organisation were scholars, researchers and diplomats who were not accustomed to the mentality of I’ve just arrived in a town, and things are awry; it’s my purpose to fix literally everything. The pace of Hechin’s tapping finger had sped up, so he made himself slow down. It wouldn’t be much longer. He had once heard that one of the Gnomish philosophers of yore, the great Isichei, had said: Every era dies thrashing. As it ends, the worst plagues and customs of that time manifest tenfold, so we shan’t forget them during the new age. Perhaps that’s what the current crisis was. The Age of Mennas had ended, and the world was to suffer the sins that had been hidden under the surface in condensed form. Now they could be brought into the light, and the future made better for their exposure. As he pondered further, his attention slipped to the nondescript urn which had once housed the ashes of Wlef in his room, lying beside the sword of Unpesh the Deceiver. In the end, even supposed Gods died, while his faith in Solarin endured. The beginnings of a sermon were playing in his mind when the door finally opened. Just when he’d managed to distract himself at last. It was a rare occasion that Beatrice Brent was out of her armor. She wore simple clothes, and her hair was down, cascading past her shoulders as she walked in. She was probably trying to look modest and regretful for Hechin. But despite everything, her amber eyes were smiling. She closed the door behind herself and tapped the rune embedded on the wall, which activated the privacy spell on the walls of the room. Hechin nodded his head in thanks, but then opened his mouth. “ We can’t make a knee-jerk reaction and go ruin someone’s country over suspicions and minor infractions. Remind me who said that again?” “The country’s not ruined”, she responded in a calm and measured tone while sitting down. Quoting the woman back at herself hadn’t phased her in the slightest. “I acted according to the wishes of the council, with the well-being of the people of Xhas’Wlef in mind.” “How long until someone who thinks Richard was deposed, rather than stepped down, rises up against the new rulers?” Hechin had gone through this discussion in his mind several times, and so far it was going exactly as he thought it would. “And how is anyone else going to trust us not to meddle in their affairs? What if we need to try to mediate the situation between the Empire of Atar and the Raven Prince?” Beatrice cracked her knuckles, seemingly indifferent. “Cipher was putting down rebellions every other month, so nothing’s changed in that regard.” This time she cut Hechin off, adding: “Look, the one who started the hostilities in the council room was one of Richard’s people, and I had to put him down before he hurt anyone else. He was about to call for the guards to attack us. Frankly, it’s a miracle that we didn’t have to fight Richard.” A miracle. And extremely good luck for Brent. Her referring to Killgore as just one of Richard’s people was infuriating, but she likely did not know about Hechin’s history with the man she’d killed. “Fitho said that you taunted Richard. You compared him to Conrad Colorado.” “It just slipped out.” She had the decency to blush, at least. “I saw Conrad’s execution in Sesbritch when I was a child. The first time I saw you, Hechin.” That caught the cleric by surprise. She had never told him that before. Why did it always have to come back to Conrad? The anger inside him felt confused by this. The whole situation was just frustrating. He took a moment to calm himself. “You’ve done your job, but you’ve broken our code when it comes to interfering in politics. I’m sure Sother will want to suspend you from the council for a good while for this.” Beatrice and Sother could hardly stand each other. “Is he here?” The woman asked, glancing toward the door. “I’d rather listen to him chew me out right away rather than wait to hear about it another day.” “He’s interrogating TomTom as we speak.” Hechin’s stomach felt queasy. He had known TomTom too well to carry out such an interrogation himself. Emotions would have gotten in the way. Sother had met TomTom when the latter had been posing as Arosh, the orc dictator, but didn’t know him personally. No one else present in their headquarters was a powerful enough spellcaster to be trusted with the job. TomTom was a slippery little creep, and might well try to possess whoever he was talking to. Beatrice leaned back in her chair. “I’ll face whatever punishment the Council sees fit to give me. But I’m not going to pretend that I regret it. Far as I’m concerned, I did the right thing.” Maybe she didn’t fit in the Council in the first place. She was a blunt person at her core, with not a drop of tact or subterfuge (two sides of the same coin) in her whole body. It was because of her nature that the red-haired warrior had been sent. They had reasoned she would be too stubborn to be intimidated or bullied by Richard. If they had known that his council was already eager to depose him, they would have picked someone more diplomatic. Someone to play mediator between the two parties, rather than wedging in and siding with the Council. “How is your investigation into the dead Warden, Magelle Moraqshed, going?” Hechin changed the subject to get Beatrice out of her forced comfort. It had partial effect, since she did sit back straight, but her answer came naturally. “My people discovered some leads, and are looking into them as we speak. As we suspected, whoever killed Mennas seems to want to throw the whole world into chaos. The Wardens fell for it, and must have baited Marley Merniso into attacking the Gnomish Colonies. There was also an elf in Tannhäuser who seems to have had ties to the assassin. I’ll get an update from Robin once I return.” Hechin was about to ask more, but there was a rap at the door. Beatrice stood up and opened it, only to find herself face to face with Sother’s solemn, judgemental face. Stepping back with overt calmness, she let him in. A few others came with; Nunhol of Tunshek, Olinda Kaseridien and Gommon the Grand. All important councilors. They had likely been waiting outside the interrogation chambers. The room was quite crowded with all them in, especially considering Nunhol was a giant. “I retrieved TomTom’s spirit from his vessel and interrogated him. The Gnomish host he was wearing is safe”, Sother started. It felt sick to hear him refer to a living person as something worn, but that was what the dead kobold had done with people for the last twenty years. The councilor breathed in and continued, unflinching: “TomTom has confessed.” “What did he say?” Hechin asked, his stomach turning with anxiety. The dragon opened his mouth to speak, only to hesitate at the sight of Hechin’s face. He stepped closer and placed his hand on the cleric’s shoulder. His voice was full of empathy. “He confirmed Ash’s information. He was working for Outsiders. They loaned him and Garrel the Pillar of Light, to use against Mennastur.” “Outsiders?” Hechin almost exclaimed it. His muscles relaxed ever so slightly, relieved at last with the Silver Protocol’s role in the matter. “Good, or Bad?” “That’s the thing.” Sother’s voice lowered. “He said he didn’t know. He got hints from all of them. But no Outsider has ties to all Planes.” The room felt oddly quiet after those words. Beatrice’s face seemed skeptical, but she said nothing. Hechin gently shook the hand off himself and cleared his throat. “Very well then”, he said, feeling weak in this particular moment. “We need to stop Garrel.” Nunhol of Tunshek gestured in the air, drawing the attention of the Council members. An easy feat for someone his size. “We have the strength to take him out, before a war between the Horn and the Empire begins thanks to these Outsiders.” “No,” Hechin rounded on the giant, his fists clenching. He caught a glimpse of Brent nodding her head at the proposal. “Remember our principles. The Protocol does not interfere in politics. We have already caused untold damage to our credibility. If we topple another government, the Protocol will not survive. The nations of the Far West barely trust and tolerate our moral authority as it is.” “He’s right.” Sother insisted. His grip on Hechin’s shoulder tightened, and the dragon levelled his eyes with the cleric’s. “Right now, Garrel isn’t even the real problem. TomTom didn’t know what it was, but he said that something else is going to happen. The Outsiders have some other dangerous item, and they intend to use it. Soon.”
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Post by kerrah on Sept 2, 2018 0:01:48 GMT
Chapter 20 Princes and Pretences
The crew was in great danger, but with danger came the possibility of answers. Instead of fleeing Mullhaven, they had chosen to stay, and try their luck at walking on the knife’s edge. They were simultaneously looking into the Pillar of Light, and seeing what they could do about the eyepatch-wearing mercenary looking for them.
TumTum stalked through the crowds, feeling uneasy about being alone. That was not a common feeling for her. For the first time since this whole adventure had begun, she didn’t have anyone to fall back on, unless she ran two miles to where they were holed up now.
Despite a nice stipend from Richard’s emergency funds, they still had limited resources. The group had dished out to buy an extension of Lenona and Robin’s telepathy for today, but only for Pike, who had the most dangerous job. For TumTum, there were no such luxuries.
At least she was wearing a Hat of Disguise to take the appearance of an elf. Even a cursory magic scan would reveal the illusion, but it was better than leaving a trail of people who had witnessed a kobold wandering around, human-sized or not. So far no one had bothered her about it.
While the others were focusing on their one-eyed enemy from Tannhäuser, TumTum was looking into the man of the hour, the Raven Prince himself. Looking into rather than looking for, as finding him had not been hard. Ahead, on a magically shielded platform raised above the crowd, he held hands with a beautiful, thin woman with a prominent nose. A clergyman in humble robes stood before them, barefoot in Altosian custom, though probably shielded from the cold by magic.
“Emperor Garrel, the mortal steward of our God, Atar, do you take Princess Vimana of Utheim as your lawfully wedded spouse? Do you accept her as part of your House, bound by blood and oaths, and pledge half your soul to her?” The priest’s enhanced voice carried over the sounds of the crowd, filling the plaza. The princess looked somewhat nervous, which was to be expected since it was unlikely she had ever met the man standing in front of her before this day. Her wedding dress was lined with ermine furs and lacked any symbols showing whether she’d converted to his faith or not.
The self-titled emperor looked resplendent in his green trousers and doublet, complete with a voluminous black cloak made of feathers. He wore a simple but prominent crown on his head. He looked much older than he probably was, with lines underneath his eyes and crow’s feet at their edges. That came from living on the run, under the tutelage of a psychopath, TumTum figured. Though the space around the ceremony shimmered with protective spells, a dozen grim-faced guardsmen also stood in a ring around the wedding, just in case.
Climbing onto the stage to ask Garrel about the Pillar of Light was out of the question, obviously. For all TumTum knew, he was the archvillain behind everything... though if he were, all of the guards in Mullhaven should be hunting for her and her allies, which they didn’t seem to be doing. For now, just getting a look at the man and his escort was a very good start. He dwelled in the Runekeep, which was simultaneously famous for being unbreachable and for how many times it had been breached. If he did have the Pillar, he would probably have it safe in there, or in a demiplane.
The disguised kobold stretched her neck as Garrel and Vimana exchanged marriage chains, and then embraced. Some in the crowd cheered, but many were quiet. The princess’ own people were the loudest in their shows of approval, on the viewing balcony of the town hall which overlooked this square.
TumTum’s eyes narrowed as she wondered if any of the Utheim party could be replaced with someone. Garrel’s people wouldn’t know them at sight, or be able to notice the infiltrator acting out of character. She flinched when something touched the side of her head, but thankfully it was just someone lifting their arm and accidentally bumping into her with their elbow. Whatever apologies he was grumbling were drowned in the din.
The imperial couple waved at the crowd. For just a second, TumTum thought that the Raven Prince looked nervous, but it had to just be her imagination. He was more like a force of nature than a man, bred and trained to take revenge on the Empire. Now that she got a better look, his face was blank, only the hint of a polite smile playing across it as he beheld the people of the city. His eyes swept past her.
Next up, the various delegations from allied states stepped forth to make or renew their oaths to his cause. The banners of neighbouring Valtat streamed past, beside the colours of the Archduchy of Stenn and the Kingdom of Melland. As the delegation of Melland came to a halt before the would-be emperor, a haggard, thin man with greyed-out hair let out a croak. The crowds grew still as the man stumbled towards Garrel, and TumTum found her attention fixed upon him, not knowing why. At first he seemed quite old, but he was still stout and hardy. Rather, like with Garrel himself, this visitor’s middle-aged appearance had been ruined by years of stress and woe, his hair gone grey and his face slumped.
Suddenly, he heaved a sob, and began to walk towards his host with his arms outstretched. "My son", he whined, and Garrel's eyes opened in surprise, though his mouth hardened into a thin line. "My son!"
Perhaps for the sake of theatricity, Garrel let his arms drop, and allowed his father hug him. TumTum thought she saw a flash of disgust register on Garrel's face as the crying man clung to him, desperately searching for a child who no longer existed. Charlie had kidnapped Garrel from his crib in Melland, and Prince Tennel Hallas had never forgiven the Rising Fire because of it. A famous and tragic tale. This reunion left much to be desired. TumTum started to move backwards through the crowd, deciding she’d seen enough.
"My son!" An empty, pleading cry sounded behind her, one last time, unaided by any magic. Only the hushed silence of the crowd allowed it to carry beyond the first few rows.
The men of Utheim were her best chance for the plan to work. Surely they had some footman who could be lured off from the rest. Obviously she wasn’t going to try that yet on her own. This was just a recon mission.
The oaths lasted the whole duration of the smuggler’s trek out from the plaza. Promises of lealty, trust, service, protection. Honour. Love. Until death, and beyond. The usual stuff that followed two people deciding to share a bed. It was just as she had reached the edge of the plaza, where the crowd began to thin out, that Garrel's weary words once again caught her attention.
“And now, good folk of Mullhaven, you shall see a spy and infiltrator die.”
TumTum froze in place. A vivid image of everyone turning to look at her played out in her mind. But when she slowly rotated to face the platform again, nobody was paying attention to her. She sagged with relief, as a dwarf was brought out instead, shackled and bloody.
She was now too far to see any real detail, especially with all the heads in the way. Gasps were erupting from the front, and whispers were being passed down the ranks towards her. TumTum moved over to the side of a pottery shop and climbed up on a crate to get a better look. She need not have, though, as the Raven Prince’s voice boomed again: “I give you Priestess Aria, the leader of the insurrection.” There were shouts among the crowd. Yells of confusion, anger and fear. But the pretender's announcement drowned them all. “Aria, daughter of Rolf, I hereby sentence you to death.”
TumTum had heard the rumours since arriving, that the former Lord Protector of Mullhaven, once a friend of Charlie, was leading an insurrection against Garrel. She had ousted an Atarite army once before, twenty years back, but it seemed this time her resistance had failed. The crowd was now seething and it was beginning to look like there might be a riot. Gone was the polite silence bestowed upon Garrel during his wedding, and the few suck-ups that had cheered were likely regretting that choice. This was the perfect time for TumTum make her move. She saw guards emerging from the town hall, anticipating trouble. A guard handed Garrel an axe. He was going to do the deed himself, still wearing his wedding garb. The dwarf looked defiant, standing with her back straight at first, and then kneeling down as her executor approached. She was clearly intent on facing her death with dignity.
The disguised kobold moved toward the town hall, her eyes trying to find an entry point. Very faintly, she could hear the dwarf shouting something. Not in shock or terror, but as a proclamation of some sort. Her voice didn’t carry all the way without magical help, so TumTum couldn’t tell any words, just the tone.
“Your Gods will judge you for your crimes in the afterlife”, the would-be emperor responded in a droll voice. At last, the crowd grew hushed.
TumTum took a brief glance over her shoulder, and saw the axe come down.
“Rest in peace”, she muttered before turning back to her mission. Aria's death would at least serve some purpose. Though Charlie had helped her oust the Empire from Mullhaven, in the end he had caused her death anyway, through Garrel. The world had a bizarre sense of humour. If Garrel had the Pillar of Light, TumTum imagined that it was probably Charlie's fault, too. Some ghosts were harder to get rid of than others.
Deactivating her disguise, she started climbing up to a second floor window of the town hall, listening to the sounds of the currently erupting riot.
I’m going in, guys.
Please be careful, now. This guy’s no one to be messed with.
Pike nodded, realising they obviously couldn’t see it, and headed into the tavern. His altered, dwarf form felt a tad clumsy, but he had cause to move stiffly, bundled up in so much winter clothing as he was.
Their stalker, whom he mentally referred to as Eyepatch, was sitting at the bar, nursing a drink. His large, fuzzy cloak was hanging off the wall, but all his other possessions were on his person. Despite his pensive appearance, his body was taut and alert. Even missing an eye, he looked extremely uninviting to any pickpockets.
The crew had put their heads together after their first run-in with the stranger. Richard’s anti-scrying things seemed to work based on their experimentation, so this guy was looking for them the old fashioned way; wandering, asking the right questions and keeping his eye open. There might be other enemies in town looking for them, but so far there was no sign of that orc from the warehouse fight, at least.
They had switched inns and started wearing disguises and illusion spells, to quell the amount of rumours this guy could track them by. And then they had started to beat him at his own game. He was genuinely being sloppy and unattentive when it came to his own trail, so it had not taken long for someone as street savvy as Pike to find out where he was staying. He had not expected the hunter to turn into the hunted, clearly.
So here he was. According to their source, he was staying alone in this tavern, but who knew. He spent most of each day out, probably looking for their trail, and then came back here in the evening. He always drank whisky, never ate anything, and then went to his room.
The most surprising thing they had heard, however, was that he was moderately conversational. The woman who had met him here had spent almost an hour talking to him. She had described that he was very distant and cold at first, but that over time he had begun to open up. He had come across as very lonely, she said. Eager for company.
And that is why Pike had altered his appearance to match hers.
Pulling the hood of his coat back, Pike gave vague smiles at the other patrons greeting him. They called him Bila. That was her name. The real Bila said she was a freelance security guard, which mostly meant that she caught thieves and bums in the establishments that paid her. Four shops and two inns in this block were paying her, so she did rounds in them, enjoyed free drinks and food, and occasionally broke someone’s hand for getting rowdy. Tonight she was being paid triple by Pike’s people to stay home.
Pike stopped to take a look around, acting natural. He had studied some of Bila’s mannerisms in order to mimic one or two of them. It didn’t need to be a perfect act, but enough that the people around here would think she was just distracted or surly, instead of replaced by a shapeshifter. After all, they lived in a world where being replaced by a shapeshifter wasn’t an impossible scenario.
Is he in?
Let him work on his own, Len. He’ll tell us when he’s ready.
Being temporarily in the telepathic link with the two lovers was a somewhat disorienting experience. When Pike sent information over, he had to focus not to move his lips in sync. It had cost them a pretty penny to buy the spell from a magic shop, but it was vital in case something went wrong.
He approached the bar and vaulted to sit up on the stool next to Eyepatch, imitating something he’d seen Bila do. “Hey there. Still drowning your sorrows?” He asked in her voice.
He gave a gruff noise, wiggling his whisky glass slightly without lifting his eyes from it.
“Eh, don’t worry. Whoever she is, I’m sure she’ll see the beauty inside you eventually”, Pike joked and ordered a stiff beer. Stiff in this context meaning it had more grain than water. Bread in a stein, they called this stuff sneeringly in Gnomeland.
“I haven’t been with a woman in fifteen years”, he said distantly, punctuated the statement with a sip, and continued: “I don’t care. All it does is make you weak. I fight my best when I’m pent up.”
The wizard hadn’t expected him to say something like that, and gave a quite unladylike, involuntary snort. Thankfully that was in character for Bila. Or at least close enough that Eyepatch didn’t seem perturbed by it.
“All right”, Pike said to Eyepatch, as he accepted his beer from the barkeep and drank some of it. It was awful. “Atar help us, the winter is just getting worse. And with every day the snow keeps piling, all the soldiers get more restless. Wish they’d just fuck off already.”
“That’s what you said yesterday.” Eyepatch grumbled. Pike let himself cringe naturally. He decided to quiet down, and let Eyepatch pick the topic. When he finally did speak, he asked: “Where were you during the battle against Taronis?”
“Me?” Pike shrugged the question off. “I was a wee girl. Well, not all that wee, but moderately wee. My mum had me locked up in our house, and she threatened to hurt herself if I left. The thing with…” He paused to take another sip of the awful beer, trying to remember the name. “The thing with Leslie, the tyrant, drove her mad, so a literal end-of-the-world thing right after didn’t do any favours.” It was an adaptation of the youth of one of his friends back in Gnomeland. He hoped it didn’t contradict anything she’d told this guy before.
Apparently it didn’t, since Eyepatch scratched at the peeling paint of the bar with a fingernail for a bit and then grunted. “I wish I could have fought there. Even now, the ones who did get free drinks, and titles and honours.” It was an exaggeration, but Pike let him rant. “But instead, I was rotting in a prison.”
Pike’s heart skipped a beat. That felt frighteningly frank. A lead, at last. ”Prison? For real?”
Guys, he says he was in prison during the Endland battle. Write this down.
For a moment the grizzled man looked like he was about to elaborate, but instead he shook his head. “Fuck it.”
The gnome-turned-dwarf felt tempted to press him about it, but didn’t want to make him suspicious. “So who was the lucky girl, then? The last one you bedded?”
“Some whore”, he said, disappointingly. “It was in Hallyn. I was lying low. Almost got my money stolen, and when I fought the robbers they got lucky.” He pulled down the collar of his coat to show a nasty, old scar running across the base of his neck. “I almost bled out like a complete chump. First they got my neck, then…”
“Your eye?” Pike suggested, genuinely interested in the story. Eyepatch gave a shallow nod. “I figure this is why you don’t bother with ladies anymore, then?”
He harrumphed and sipped. “Ladies? I’ve never fucked a lady in my life. Wouldn’t want to. Pampered little shits.” There was a slight hint of a smile on his face before he fixed it. “But yeah, you’re right. Why bother. I don’t have time to settle down, and any girl who would do it for money would just as quick cut my throat for more money.”
“I guess you move around a lot, then? How long since you’ve had a stable place to stay?” Pike drank some beer, having to stop to chew through a clump of what felt like dough mixed in.
The man turned over and said in a neutral voice: “You’re really curious about me, aren’t you?” The wizard felt a terrible chill down his spine for a split second before the mercenary added: “I’m not going to settle down in Mullhaven, and I’m not changing my mind about not fucking girls. We clear?”
Pike felt mildly nauseous at the thought of seeing this old scruffy man nude, but forced out an awkward laughter. “Atar damnit, yeah, we’re clear. And if you imply that I want to fuck you another time, I swear I’m going to cram that whisky glass up your ass.” The threat came amongst chuckles, just making him come across as an embarrassing mess.
Eyepatch laughed at Pike’s reaction briefly, and then shook his head. He was probably chalking his behavior to his perceived sex. Whatever made him less suspicious.
Just as the wizard was trying to come up with a new approach, the mercenary grumbled with sudden bitterness: “To answer your question, I started out as a sworn sword in the service of this one noble. The bitch threw me out, though. That was the last time I lived in one place. Not counting the fucking prison.”
That was very valuable information, though there were a lot of people who could fit the bill. Pike let out a sympathetic sigh and asked: “What did she throw you out for?” He could immediately tell from the man’s face that he didn’t want to talk about it, though. “Was that before the Final Battle, then?”
“Uh-huh. Right before.”
He used to be in the retinue of some noble lady. He was fired from his post right before his imprisonment. It’s probably related.
“Well, maybe you’ll find a new patron one of these days. You’d make a good master at arms in some castle, I bet”, Pike said, pretending trying to cheer him up, but hoping to guide the conversation forward.
“I’ve already got a boss. Two, to be frank. They’re not exactly nobles, but it’s fulfilling work”, Eyepatch mumbled, going exactly where the wizard had been hoping he would. Surprisingly, his tone sounded vaguely fond. He took a long sip from the whisky.
Pike relayed this information, too. An idea occurred to him. “Aaaaah… I think I’ve heard about that, whatcha call it… Platinum something? Sounds like it fits ya…”
“The Silver Protocol?” Eyepatch scoffed. “I actually almost applied after I got out of jail. Under a false name, mind ya. That was before I found out it’s run by that prick, Hechin.” He spat the name out with bile.
Pike had to focus not to move his lips when he sent the info forward once more. He did not have to fake the look of confusion on his face. “Hechin? Who’s that?” Of the Rising Fire heroes, the cleric was the one he knew the least about, aside from his association with the Silver Protocol.
“One of King Mennas’ patsies. I still don’t get why anyone thinks the Protocol is anything but a Gnomish tool. The Grand King knew better than to leave a potential tool unused…” If anything, he sounded even more bitter about Mennas than about Hechin. He didn’t even seem to pay much attention to Pike anymore, and was in full rant mode. “If I’d known what that diminutive asshole would become, I’d have killed him when I had the chance.”
Holy shit, guys. He’s someone who met Mennas and the others during their travels. He really hates the old king. It sounds personal.
Pike cringed a little and made a slight shushing sound. “Don’t say that out loud. I know this isn’t Gnomeland, but…” He wished he could have egged the guy on, but that would have been really out of character and suspicious. Better play it safe instead.
Eyepatch man gave a slight nod. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. But out of those assholes, the one I hate the most is the orc bitch. The templar. Like cold ice, that one. Glad I never stuck it in her. Would have frozen my prick right off.”
Pike had to stifle laughter again. Thankfully it was a natural reaction which fit the moment. He took a break from the conversation to drink some more ale.
He really hates Dakara, guys. He’s like a spurned lover or something.
One of the inn patrons came over to talk to Pike. He handled it with disinterested patience. Their coinpurse had gone missing. As he was telling them that he’d look into it, Robin’s voice piped up:
Wait… uh… Ter thinks he knows who this guy is. He was imprisoned in Nomesh during the start of Mennas’ reign, but managed to escape during prisoner transfer only a few years later. His name is…
Pike realised he’d repeated the name out loud a split second too late, and froze. Robin’s voice was still going on at the back of his head, but he suppressed it.
The mercenary glanced over. “Huh? Did I tell you my name?” He scratched his jaw idly, trying to remember. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Whatever. I’m so used to being called Knight... did you have something to say?”
Pike was at a loss for a horrible moment. So this was actually some former enemy of the Rising Fire. No wonder he’d taken part in the murder of Mennas, then. The gnome said the first thing that came to mind: “It was nice talking to you. I hope you find whatever you’re looking for.” He reached for the beer to drink some more, though he wasn’t going to force himself to down all of it.
The man sighed a little, still looking suspicious. “Going already? Well, this may be the last time we’re meeting. I’ve got a pretty damn strong lead on the people I’m tracking.” Pike felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the sight of that murderous intent in the man’s remaining eye. “They’re probably toast, tonight.”
“I’d hate to be them”, Pike said flippantly. “Maybe I’ll be around here again tonight. Hope you’re not gone already.”
He got off the stool and walked around the space, nodding at a few people and doing Bila’s job for her for now.
Okay guys. Change of plans. We’re going to wait until this douche leaves the inn, and we’re going to ambush him outside.
Is he on to you?
I don’t know. He’s way too confident of himself. By the way, you can tell Ter he got it right. The name. I confirmed it.
As he left the inn, there was a slight lull, broken by Lenona in her usual style.
Brux almighty, I think we're making progress. TumTum just came back. She’s found a way into the Runekeep.
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Post by kerrah on Oct 21, 2018 16:05:03 GMT
Chapter 21 The Ambush
Knight entered his room and locked the door behind himself. He was swaying slightly. He shouldn’t have had that second glass of whisky. Since he’d lost his eye, he had a bad habit of banging into things when drunk. He lightly touched his eyepatch, making sure it was straight and covering up the scarred mess underneath. He sat down at the edge of his bed and let his cloak lay next to him. He was tempted to lie down and sleep it off. His job wasn’t going to do itself, though. King kept pestering him about the kobold and her friends. What a fucking bother. He opened up the top drawer of the nightstand and pulled out an ugly blackish bottle. He uncorked it and took a swig before putting it back. The liquid tasted like warm, rank piss, and he gagged slightly. He had been a fussy eater as a kid. It was many a time that his mother had had cause to pull his hair to get him to eat whatever she’d cooked. Hopefully the old whore was watching up from Hell right now, to see him swallow this stuff without a complaint. His drunkenness started to fade as the draught did its job. He pulled over the chamber pot from under the bed and pissed the booze away as it was expelled from his body. It burned coming out. Knight sorted through everything and made sure not to leave anything incriminating in the room as he prepared to leave. No that he kept anything really incriminating in his person either; Queen was really particular about not having any physical correspondance, or even written notes. Mullhaven was a shit city, far as Knight was concerned. The streets were too narrow and the people were timid sheep who accepted any foreign conqueror, barely putting up a fight. The Prince of Ravens was set to march out in a few days, but by all likelihood the citizens would be too chickenshit to even rise up after he left. He left the inn room and descended to the ground floor, passing by the bar. Time to find these little fucks. He’d almost caught them four days ago, it turned out. They had literally been in the floor above him at one point, but when he’d shown up the next day they’d vacated, and the innkeep had no idea where they’d gone. Knight had wanted to shove his sword up the dwarf’s ass, but there was no point in taking the risk of getting the guards involved. Right now, he had a really strong lead. Magic shops didn’t tolerate shopping while disguised, and the particular one that those two humans - the girl warrior and the druid - had been to this morning hadn’t had any qualms about selling the information about their custom. Knight felt a smug sense of accomplishment for thinking to put a word in with every magic shop in city. Maybe tonight, he would contact Queen and Bishop, and the three of them would end this fucking farce at long last. It was cold and windy, with snow billowing through the mostly empty streets. Another two or so hours until midnight, but winter had made the days short this far north. Another reason to detest this place. Knight wrapped his cloak tighter around himself and started trudging through the ankle-deep snow, careful not to trip on the icy cobbled stones underneath. He left the main road to cut toward his destination, not wanting to spend any extra time outdoors in this weather and freeze his balls off. A rat skittered across the snow ahead of him. Stupid beast. Didn’t those things hibernate? It stopped briefly to take look at his approaching figure, and then rushed to an opening into a basement. Probably off to eat someone’s shit. He passed by a few strangers only a block or two from his inn. A gnome or halfling bundled up and a female elf blowing on her fingers. The mercenary made sure to not get anything stolen as they moved past each other. The alley had been narrowed out by the banks on either side, probably containing trash that you’d trip on if you tried walking through. Maybe a frozen-over beggar here and there. However, then he saw the look on the elf’s face. She knew him. His instincts flared up. It was an ambush. It was a fucking ambush! How hadn’t he figured it out before? He pulled his sword out, trying to kill her on the spot. His heavy cloak billowed up as he did, and a small cloud of snow that had collected in the heavy bear fur rose into the air. She had to throw herself back, falling into a snowbank, to avoid his blow. Her little friend jumped away from him. From the corner of his eye he saw others emerge from further down the alley. In an instant, Knight made an analysis of the situation. If this was all six of them, they would win a stand-up fight. The best he could do was to kill a few of the bastards before they landed some spell that incapacitated him. That meant he was better off getting the fuck out of here. All of the others were coming from up ahead, so he turned and fled the way he’d been coming from. The gnome was in his way. Knight recognised him. He had been in the warehouse fight. So this was the one who had helped TumTum break out of jail. Pluck, or Plick, or something. Prick, more like. The gnome lifted his hand to cast a spell. Knight’s sword lashed out, and said hand went flying through the air. The snow was dyed red, and his screams filled the night. He wanted to stop to finish the runt off, but didn’t have time. He already felt that dwarven priest throwing something at him from behind, but thankfully it failed to take effect. Instead he rushed past the now one-handed gnome, hoping his screams would attract soldiers to the scene. There was something small in the snow about ten paces ahead of Knight. In a poof, it turned into a human with brown hair. One more of them! The druid. His friends were right behind Knight, and he was standing boldly in place. The boy cast a spell, and the cobbled ground between them began to rise to form a barrier blocking Knight’s escape. He pushed on, and jumped, vaulting over the rising wall. It hit him in the chest, but he managed to make it over before it rose two stories tall. Knight rolled over and almost fell right on top of the druid, who scampered out of the way. “Cancel it! Cancel it! Cancel the spell!” A frantic female voice cried from across the wall as Knight was getting back to his feet. He was no mage, but far as he remembered, the wall of stone wasn’t inherently magical, so the druid couldn’t unmake it without casting a new spell. And judging by the panicked look on his face, he didn’t have one ready. Knight rushed forward, his sword lashing out again. The boy yelled in pain and fell down, his belly badly injured. His hand grabbed something and threw it at Knight, who brought his sword to block whatever it was. It turned out to be a handful of snow. The powdery stuff hit his blade and exploded all over his face, getting in his eye and coating him with cold and wet. Blinded, Knight hit his sword to where the druid had been, but all he caught was the street. The boy must have turned back to a rat to get away from him. “We’re coming!” A male voice said from atop the stone wall. Knight wiped at his good eye with the back of his sleeve, gaining back a blurry vision of his surroundings. All his enemies who had gotten blocked off behind the stone were coming down from it at him. He was just about to resume his flight when Ter Kingsgrace landed on top of him, having jumped down. They tumbled into the snow banks and Knight’s wrist almost broke from holding on to his sword. He let go of his weapons and instead pulled out an adamantite knife, stabbing it into the paladin’s side several times, all the while screaming in a wordless rage. The diamond-hard metal sunk through armour, clothing, skin and flesh like they were nothing. He had to get away. He had to call for backup. He had to… “Overwhelming grief!” It was the gnome. Even missing a hand, he was standing on top of the stone wall, scowling down at Knight. The mercenary felt his whole world come crashing down. What was he doing? What had he done? What had happened to his life? He felt his body convulse as he slumped down into the snow bank beside the paladin, overcome with such emotional tumult he couldn’t even move. They moved to restrain him immediately. When he finally managed to push the spell out, releasing his mind, he was physically too tightly bound to free himself. They’d taken his weapons, too. He grunted, and screwed the ring in his left ring finger off, dropping it in the snow underneath this stomach. The gnome cast a shrinking spell so they could carry him to their hideout more easily, and as they picked him up, he said: “It’s over, Arnam. The game’s over.” Queen was going to be very fucking mad at him, he realised, before they knocked him out.
After getting their invitations checked in, the King of Utheim’s family walked in to the wedding reception of the King’s darling daughter. TumTum followed quietly, thankful for not having been spoken to so far. Her disguise was that of the bride’s cousin, whom she’d managed to lure off and steal the identity of. The hall was one of the largest indoor spaces she’d ever been in, and she wasn’t exactly sheltered. You could have fit a modestly sized hill fort inside it. Considering that, the number of people in attendance was actually not that high. About a hundred were foreign dignitaries or emissaries, another hundred were notables from Mullhaven who had bent the knee, and the last third were Garrel’s own faithful. The last group stood out easily, as they were rougher and coarser, and also more lively. Right up ahead, she saw one of them, dressed in a freshly tailored uniform but still obviously someone who had camped in hiding for twenty years, talking loudly at what seemed like Haakish patricians, oblivious to their apparent discomfort. The would-be emperor himself sat at the dais, on a throne that had once belonged to a Kraldurian proconsul. Beside him sat his newly wedded wife. Considering the number of visitors, as well as the servants moving this way and that, his guards were keeping a safe zone between himself and the crowds. Even in a situation like this, assassins were a danger. There was someone in front of Garrel. A creature not of this world, based on the halo around its head. It had a beastial appearance, but large feathery wings behind it. An angel? In ages past it wasn’t unheard of for outer planes to send emissaries to great rulers, but it seemed very unusual for the modern era. She had to divert her eyes as King Aslak of Utheim began to talk to his family members. Everyone was going to mooch with a different group. TumTum was the last to be spoken to. “Magnus… if you see any of Atarite priests, go talk to them.” She gave a nod at the symbol of Atar around her neck, and gave a grunt. Her hand slipped inside her coat, and she carefully retrieved Robin from her pocket. As the family began to split up, TumTum headed straight for the nearest table containing foods and drinks, and bent over so as to pretend to inspect what was on display. Her hand containing the rat slipped underneath to unleash him. Robin seemed eager to stretch his limbs and get a look around the keep. They’d agreed beforehand that they would later meet up where he was dropped off so she could retrieve him and head out. The disguised kobold took a glass of wine and straightened her back, looking around the room once more. The outsider had vanished from the dais, and so had Garrel, too. His Queen remained. Off to discuss things in private? It was curious. She stopped by to chatter with some guests, hoping to later exchange some word with the castle staff. The Vice-Chancellor of Dolin complained about the damp and cold weather, which she almost eagerly agreed with before remembering she was supposed to be from Utheim, so she changed her reaction to one of amusement and half-polite dismissal. She asked him about the Templars of Mektin, and could sense a very deep disappointment in his voice as he announced that the Grand Templar had sworn her support to the reigning Emperor of Atar in the war against the Raven Prince. The next hour or so went by with similar interactions. Thankfully no one picked up on TumTum’s inconsistent accent. She was all too happy to do the listening, anyway. She did manage to pick a few staff members to chat with, but they mostly seemed to be too much in a hurry to converse. Garrel remained absent. Every now and then she’d wander to that same table to see if a rat was hiding underneath, but so far Robin had not shown up. However, the third time she did this, there was a tap on her lower back. “Prince Magnus.” It was a grim looking gnome with the Raven Prince’s emblem stitched to the collars of her outfit. “May I have a word?” “Of course”, she said, unable to help herself from growing tense from the situation. She hoped that she could pull off imitating this Magnus fellow, whose face she wore. “What do you need, miss..” The gnome did not offer her name, but instead gestured at a nearby exit from the hall. That certainly meant things might be about go very badly. TumTum ran all her possibilities through her mind as fast as she could. To buy time she gestured at the table of food and gave out an annoyed “I was going to…” The gnome shifted the hem of her coat slightly to show she was carrying steel underneath. “That can wait.” The smuggler gave an annoyed sigh and started toward the door. TumTum did have a knife or two hidden on her person, but she definitely did not want to start a fight. There would be no leaving this place if an alarm sounded. Once she got through the door, two more of Garrel’s people were waiting in the sitting room beyond. She did her best to look confused rather than guilty. “Keep going”, one of them said as they led her further away from the party. “I promise, I didn’t meant to eat too many honey cakes”, she tried to joke, but none of them seemed to enjoy it much, so she submitted to the tense silence instead. In a corridor, they passed by a servant hurrying to some larder, who stopped in place frightfully at the sight of them. Two doorways beyond that encounter, TumTum found herself stepping into a larger room, and coming face-to-face with the Raven Prince himself. Robin was at the side of the room, in human form, arms in shackles. Garrel’s eyes looked the newcomer up and down. “Unmask yourself”, he ordered.
Arnam was slowly rousing, as Pike contemplated his wrist. Ulias had healed it, but that left it as an ugly, beet-red stump. He needed a regeneration spell soon. He could still feel the phantom limb, and could even flex the fingers that weren’t there. Was that his soul, floating invisibly where the flesh no longer lasted? For the umpteenth time, he took a deep breath to calm himself. It was lucky that they hadn’t lost anyone in that fight. The plan had paid off, but he felt haunted by the possible losses, including his own life, if the enemy had been quicker or more aggressive, or able to resist his spell. “Grnh… fuggin… where am I?” Arnam was tied up tight in a chair, naked except for a breechcloth. His left eye was a grizzly sight, but it helped reduce his status in the situation to take his eyepatch off. Lenona and Ter were looming at the edges of the room, but it had been decided that Pike should do the interrogating. “You’re in a Zone of Truth, that’s a start”, Pike said, trying to make his voice a lower pitch to appear intimidating. “Courtesy to my lawyer friend. I guess they do come in handy.” Ter’s face stayed stoic in his peripherals. “The cleric also cursed you with hampered wisdom, so we’ll see if you can resist it. Who do you work for, Arnam?” He put emphasis on the name, just to rub in that they’d figured out his identity. “Fuck you.” Pike tsked. He used his good hand to pull a wand from his belt and pointed it at the grizzled man. With a tap of his finger, a light appeared at the tip, though Arnam had no idea what spell it would be. The gnome paced a little bit, keeping the light pointed at his prisoner, and then said: “Who do you work for?” Even as the man began to swear, the wand of thought detection captured his surface thoughts. King. Queen. They found us all. Gave us a purpose. I’m not going to betray those fuckers.King and Queen? What the hell? He was working for royalty? Pike pursed his lips and shook his head. He raised his voice to speak over the angry barking: “Who’s the orc? The highlander. Another expendable pawn like yourself?” Pawn. Heh. She picked Pawn for her name. What a fucking joke… His thoughts were full of sardonic jest but his face stayed angry as he parked: “Yeah, just another pawn. They’re throwing us to the wolves.” And I’m Knight. Her fucking knight in shining armour. Keeping her safe.Pike kept the wand steady. They were using code names. Hell, it seemed like they might be using code names for this exact sort of situation. He wasn’t getting any real valuable data. “And what about the elf? There’s an elf with short black hair, who doesn’t speak with an Eral’Tirian accept. Who’s she?” This seemed to give Arnam just a slight pause. Bishop? Shit, they know about Bishop? Wasn’t she in Xhas’Wlef? On his face, all Pike saw was a slight twitch before he spat down on the floor. “Get off my case and let me go. I’m gonna cut off your other arm and stuff that wand down your eyehole, you dirty little-” “Bishop?” Pike cut him off. Arnam’s eye flickered toward the wand, and then understanding came to his face. Oh for fuck’s sake, Queen is going to rip my entrails off… no, gotta stop thinking. Pike couldn’t help but laugh at that. “King, Queen, Pawn, Bishop, Knight… I take it there’s a Rook, too?” Terrence took an eager step forward, clearly excited by this new information. “You think you’re so smart”, Arnam growled, flexing his arms against his restraints. I’m such a goddamn moron. King’s going to be so disappointed. For fuck’s sake… “You think you’re some kind of super sleuth? You were disguised as that dwarven whore earlier today, weren’t you?” Pike couldn’t stop his face from showing the truth of that. “You think just because you know my name, that means you’re onto something? We’ve been at this for seven fucking years.” Ever since we met Areth…This was gold. This was absolute gold. That name, that name! Pike stepped forward to press him. “GUYS!” Lenona shoved the door into the cellar open. “INCOMING!” Fucking finally. Took them long enough.A bright red glowing hand came crashing through the ceiling of the cellar, exploding splinters, dust and floorboards all over the space. Pike cried in pain when something sharp jabbed into his still raw arm-stump. Arnam had thrown his chair to the ground in the hopes of freeing himself of the ropes. “HERE, HERE!” Lenona’s voice was crying from the doorway. Pike scrambled away from the red hand as it tore off a large chunk from the floor-ceiling above. He had dropped his wand. When he glanced back reflexively in the vain effort to find it among the wooden rubble, he saw the looming figure looming on ground level, looking down on them. Flowing dark robes hung around the huge, but lean form of the Akeshafian, its wedge-shaped head twisted in fury as it stared down on them. Its right hand glowed bright as the conjured one of force continued to do its bidding. Someone grabbed the back of Pike’s coat, pulling him up. It was Ter. The paladin hauled him toward Lenona, away from their hostage. Pike tried to shout to go grab Arnam, but even he knew that was a bad idea. Ulias rushed out from underneath a table to join them. The Akeshafian cast a new spell. Ter and Lenona froze up, their bodies locked in paralysis. Ulias yelled in surprise, almost running into the Keshanite, while Pike found those strong fingers holding on to him like a vise. Some running footsteps appeared, coming from behind Lenona’s back. Another enemy? The gnome turned around and saw the Akeshafian jump down from above, landing next to Arnam’s still-bound self. She was the first priority. He took a breath and jabbed his good hand forward, and an illusionary wall rose between them, looking like a stone wall like what Pike had used earlier in the day. He hoped she’d fall for it. To him it looked like a hazy outline, and he could see her dark eyes glance down at the mercenary on the ground. The footsteps appeared in the doorway, right behind a still-paralysed Lenona. Pike spun his head and saw a somewhat squat elf with black hair, wearing a mask to conceal her face. She thrust out a hand, and a spike of ice shot out, piercing the warrior’s torso and then hitting Ulias in his gut. Pike saw something clenched in her fist, with a string coming out. Probably a holy symbol. She was a cleric. Ulias grunted in pain, but he had his own spell ready. He hit her with a golden burst that stung the eye a little, and seemed to singe her clothes. She recoiled and had to cover her eyes. The Akeshafian was walking toward the illusionary walls, and casually pointed a finger. A green beam flew out, intended to break the barrier, but instead flew past it, hitting the ceiling above Pike. A disintegration. One of those would likely kill any one of his allies in a single go. And now she knew the wall wasn’t real. Pike grabbed hold of Ter with his hand, poked his stump into Len, and touched his boot into Ulias. “PLANE SHIFT!” He yelled out loud as he silently cast another type of teleportation entirely. It was a short distance spell, but thankfully he had direct eye contact to the ground floor, where the Akeshafian had come from. They appeared there, hopefully fooling the enemies. The four of them were in the middle of the store of a closed-down bakery. The front door had been left open by the enemies. The place was dusty and worn down. Ter seemed to be coming out of his paralysis, and Lenona was showing signs of recovering too. Ulias pointed at the front door, but Pike gave a sharp shake of his head, and instead scrambled as quietly as he could toward a nearby table, covered by a thick white sheet. He lifted the sheet and gestured underneath. Ulias and Ter had to carry Lenona, though she finally regained mobility as they were lowering her under the table. In moments the four were under the table, having made minimal noise. Pike had expected to hear shouting and anger come through the hole in the floor, but so far the sounds from down there were rather sedate. They would detect the traces of his magic soon. And then… “INVISIBILITY PURGE!” Then, that. There was a sound of feet landing on the floor beyond the white sheet. Ter was gritting his teeth, looking like he was ready to burst out of hiding any moment and try to take the enemy down on his own. Footsteps moved across the floor, determined and intent. Toward the front door. It was when the steps stopped at the front door that he realised, there wouldn’t be any fresh tracks in the snow outside. Him and his allies - friends - had been coming and going, and these enemies had come too. Surely they wouldn’t be able to tell? Surely? The gnome’s heart was beating a mile a minute. More footsteps. “Are they gone?” Arnam’s voice sounded… meek. It was a strange sound on him. “Yes. Let’s go, before the guards arrive. We don’t want Garrel’s attention.” It was the Akeshafian’s gravelly, yet distinctly feminine voice. A third voice, presumably the elf, added: “No more solo stuff. No one goes alone, any more.” “Agreed.” Then, a teleportation spell - based on the incantation, at least - and the room went quiet. Ter tensed up, but Pike threw his hand up, almost slapping him. They might just have recreated his own trick, if they knew how to cast silent spells. Speak one spell, cast another. He made them wait a full fifteen seconds until he leaned closer to Lenona and whispered: “Robin?” She made an uncertain gesture, glancing toward the Runekeep. Slowly, carefully, the gnome lifted the sheet up by a few inches, and peeked through. No sight of them, but they might be invisible. All of Arnam’s gear was in Pike’s bag of holding. Unless they’d brought spares, he would be standing half naked in front of an open door that was letting in a cold breeze. Could even someone like him just do that, in the paranoid hope of luring out a hiding enemy? Did clerics know how to conjure clothes? He felt like they did, but he wasn’t quite sure. “Let’s go”, he whispered, and crawled out from under the table, careful not to bump his sore and bleeding stump into anything. No one attacked them in the shop. They ran out. No one attacked them on the street. They kept on running. About a block away Pike anxiously grunted: “Where are Robin and TumTum!?” Little trickles of blood fell from the wounds on his stump into the snow, but he didn't have time to stop and hide it. Lenona cringed and looked over her shoulder, her shoes kicking off snow from the paved street underneath her. “They’re currently being questioned by the Raven Prince himself.” As they continued, Pike had to remind himself that this had not been for nothing. “Areth”, he panted out loud, committing the name to memory. Arnam’s thoughts had definitely mentioned the name of Areth, Son of Bahamut.
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