Olympus RPG Blog

Olympus Role Playing Group Blog

Dramatis Personæ

Brother Mendel (Herodian)
Dane Sardock (Winston)
Gabriel Auditore (Rigil Kent)
Gestlin the Unpredictable (CommJunkee)
Magnifico the Clown (Feste)
Rainald North-Hammer (Gigermann)


bs-craine

Of Diplomacy and Intimidation

23 Apr 2014

Brother Mendel met with the rest of the Heroes for breakfast in the common room of the Crimson Mug Inn and showed them the threatening note he had discovered next to his bed, secreted in the night by someone he believed to be a Templar brother-knight, a near-certainty given his Seeker vision and Gabriel’s reconnaissance from the previous day; they deduced the enemy’s location in the vision to be the same tower in town to which Gabriel had followed “Valorus’” Templar escort. They briefly discussed kidnapping the Templar from his bed in the tower using a portal, as they had in the past when Pachacuti traveled with them, but Brother Mendel considered the difficulty of the “weave” and determined it was beyond his skill. Instead, they decided to meet with Aamir Rachmani as promised, at the estate of Proximo, and perhaps draw their foes out of the shadows as they conducted their business for the day. As they were expecting trouble, they geared up for a fight before they left.

The Heroes traveled through the city without incident, across the river, to arrive at Proximo’s impressive estate. They were met there at the gate by a guard, who took their names and escorted them to a nearby garden area where he introduced them all to Proximo and Aamir. They were offered food and drink by their host, and got straight to business, though not initially regarding the dragon show as was expected—the Heroes instead inquired of Proximo what he might know of Lord Wallace, the Templars, and slavery in-general, telling him of their mission to find the wayward baron. Brother Mendel presented as payment the enchanted necklace they had recovered at Ferrier upon their return from the Otherworld, a “priceless” artifact that granted the wearer special favor with the opposite gender when under the light of the moon; he offered to allow Proximo to wear the necklace out that night to prove its effects. Proximo was so impressed by the gift that he told them much of what he knew (but not all, as he appeared to hold something back), and promised to speak to his many contacts in the area on the matter. When the subject was eventually changed to the dragons, the Heroes expressed a willingness to perform at Bannock, as the event would likely prove useful to their mission. Proximo was almost insistent that they perform in the arena, with the dragons fighting slaves, but Heroes were reluctant to shed blood needlessly, lest the dragons should make a habit of it. Magnifico swore that Brother Mendel’s illusions would be more than adequate to appease the bloodthirsty crowd, but before Proximo would relent, he desired a private performance to prove its “realism”; Magnifico agreed to a demonstration on the morrow, at the estate.

The Heroes left Proximo’s manor satisfied of their success, and started toward the docks to inform Captain Finn they would tarry another day or two. As they left the gate, a suspicious fellow was spotted down the street a bit, inattentively carving a piece of wood while not-so-discreetly observing their activities. Gabriel brazenly strode toward the man to ask him his business; the man at first tried to pretend to innocence in lacing up his boot, then broke into a run down an alley as Gabriel neared him; Gabriel decided to let him go.

Rainald spoke to Captain Finn, and after helping get Gestlin’s wagon loaded back on the ship, spent the day talking with the other sailors here and there on the docks, doing loading work, and fishing for a while, to feed the dragons. At the same time, Gestlin opted to make use of the Mages’ Guild in town to learn some new spells, taking Brother Mendel to aid his studies; Gabriel followed along to watch their backs. The time passed without incident.

As evening approached, the Heroes assembled back at the Crimson Mug. As they arrived, a youth seated on a barrel outside the tavern door jumped down to deliver a written message—upon reading, it said they should meet with Proximo at a monastery just outside town at sunset. The Heroes suspected a trap—perhaps just naturally suspicious—and girded themselves for battle before setting out on foot for the monastery; Gabriel knew the place.

bs-67-screen1
bs-templar1

As the sun settled and the shadows grew long, the Heroes strode boldly down the secluded riverside path leading up to the monastery. They spotted an overturned wagon up the path, and presumed it to be the inevitable ambush spot. They spotted a tiny light flitting about in the trees above, identifying it as a pixie (having encountered them before in the Harkwood), before it disappeared into the foliage ahead of them. Then the ambushers revealed themselves; first, a handful of crossbowmen emerged from a high cliff to one side of the road, followed shortly by riders appearing from (figuratively) nowhere before and behind them, all bearing Templar colors. The Heroes were boxed in by the cliff, the riders, and the river, and they took up a defensive stance; Gabriel darted into the shadows next to the fallen cart and disappeared from view, while Gestlin readied an Explosive Fireball and held it. One of the Templars to the fore rode forward a step or two, the pixie they saw before now resting atop his horse’s head; he addressed the Heroes, demanding they lay down arms and surrender or be slain. A few of the Heroes questioned their ability to best such a band, but held fast, wondering internally if this would be their end; after a minute or two of blustering back and forth, Dane, atop a large boulder, impatiently loosed an arrow at the Templars’ leader. Action ensued.

The Leader ducked below Dane’s arrow, but Gestlin threw his ready Fireball at his horse’s feet, releasing a massive fiery explosion, felling the horse and setting the Leader ablaze. The mounted Templars bearing sword-and-shield charged the Heroes, while those bearing two-handed swords quickly dismounted and rushed in on foot; the crossbowmen loosed their arrows at the Heroes’ casters; none were struck, but Gestlin had to dive to the ground and crawl for the cover of the boulder. Then the unthinkable happened:

[“Sir” Magnifico] begins a dance hereafter to be enshrined in Anglish dictionaries under “suggestive,” though perhaps it commands rather than suggests. His sinuous, liquid movements awaken something primal in the human soul, evoking dim racial memories of Lovecraftian horrors beyond time. The concepts involved confront vows of piety, obedience and chastity and evert them—the very concepts of right and wrong lose, for a long, horrid moment, all semblance of meaning…

To be continued…


Notes

  • The Necklace was a random bit of treasure we ended up finding in the ruin of Ferrier, our first stop after we returned from the Huallapan homeworld—the Vasa had razed the town, and had no use for treasure, so everything was left behind; Mendel was later able to identify the necklace’s properties. We had all but forgotten we had it
  • The PCs really have no intention of touring Al-Wazif right now, though they won’t burn any bridges in that regard, as it may be useful before or after they recover Lord Wallace; however, having the show set up in Bannock is good for the mission, so we definitely wanted the sponsorship there, as well as Proximo’s slaver contacts. We spent a good bit of time thinking of ways to give the audience a vision of bloodshed while still being able to say, “No slaves were harmed during the performance of this show” afterward
  • Dane was ready to take a shot at the spy outside Proximo’s estate, sparking a discussion about whether or not one could hide or disguise that sort of thing with an Illusion spell (Mendel doesn’t have proper Invisibility yet)
  • We had a brief encounter with pixies in Harkwood in Book I; some of the PCs lost some silver to their sticky fingers, but Gabriel (at least) gave some shiny up willingly—otherwise, the encounter was benign. It did have us expecting an Elvish ambush, though, until the Templars revealed themselves
  • Magnifico’s Infernal Dance was intended by his player to distract the crossbowmen from being able to effectively fire upon the other PCs, being unable to look upon the spectacle directly. Mags didn’t have any skill/spell/etc. to allow for that effect by RAW, though it certainly did draw attention. I think it had a greater effect on the players listening to its description—bear in mind that Magnifico is an old man, Unattractive and Hunchbacked, wearing a jester’s bright, silly-looking garb—and it was suggested he might be using Rainald’s spear as a stripper-pole. Just for giggles, the GM made everyone viewing it roll a Fright Check, the results of which included more than one Critical Failure
  • We ended up stopping for the night mid-combat; I decided to defer the report until next time, to put it all together into one

Dramatis Personæ

Brother Mendel (Herodian)
Dane Sardock (Winston)
Gabriel Auditore (Rigil Kent)
Gestlin the Unpredictable (CommJunkee)
Magnifico the Clown (Feste)
Rainald North-Hammer (Gigermann)


bs-craine

Of Performances and Revelations

22 Apr 2014

bs-marketsquareAt the approach of the appointed time, as the sun lowered in the West, the Heroes left the Crimson Mug and fetched Gestlin’s wagon once again, and the dragons in their cages, and made their way up the main street to the market square, to prepare for the evening’s show. A space next to the wagon was cleared for the “stage,” with the dragons in their cages to either side of it. Rainald and Radskyrta would take up stations next to the cages to keep the crowd at a proper distance; Dane found a balcony where he could overwatch the crowd for ne’er-do-wells, though he would eventually join the crowd-control team. Gestlin was ready to give his support to the show with magical fireworks, but his reputation for clumsiness gave Magnifico some concern, and it was decided he should sit out the performance to help manage things backstage. Townsfolk began to trickle into the square as the players rehearsed. As the audience grew, Magnifico began to doubt his ability to keep Primus and Secundus under control during their part of the show, and it was decided that the dragons would only be loosed one at a time.

Meanwhile, Gabriel slipped into the shadows of a side alley, and made his way to the guild-hall of the Aldenard Trading Company to observe the goings-on there, and break in when the time was right.

Soon, the spectators filled the square, and Magnifico gave the signal to start the show. Magnifico started off with a light-hearted joke routine that transitioned seamlessly into the main-course, the story of the Heroes’ adventures in the Otherworld against the Vasa, focusing, as it had before, on the role and person of Malcolm Wallace, this time with much embellishment of the Megalan role in the war. Participating due to a last-second capitulation, Gestlin magically levitated Magnifico above and amongst the crowd as he spoke, sang, and played, while Brother Mendel provided illusory illustration of the story, and all seemed well. Both dragons were very clearly unnerved by the large number of humans before them. As the show arrived at the point of the story featuring the dragons’ flyover, Secundus’ cage was opened; Magnifico failed to firmly seize his attention, though, and Secundus hissed and roared at the crowd, flying to rest atop the wagon, beating his wings and baring his teeth menacingly. The onlookers, of course, applauded the magnificent display, being oblivious to the players frantically struggling to get the young dragon under control, and keep Primus from following his example. Then the worst happened—Secundus excitedly bolted down from his perch to attack one of the spectators in the front row; Rainald sprinted to intercept the dragon, and threw his shoulder into the dragon’s ribs, knocking him to the ground at Dane’s feet. The townsfolk in the front row screamed and pressed back into the crowd to get away. Scrambling to help, Gestlin activated his staff with a shout of “Smil-Blam!” and Possessed the creature; his body went limp as his consciousness transferred to the body of the dragon, and he (as the dragon) collected himself and leapt into the air, circling low over the crowd in as close an imitation of Secundus’ intended performance as he could recall, before returning to the cage, entering with a “bow” to the crowd. The onlookers applauded all the more, now convinced by Magnifico that the “attack” was merely part of the show all along. (Primus didn’t get his turn after all, for obvious reasons.) Magnifico continued his performance without missing a beat, and concluded it with the post-Crusade, mysterious disappearance of Lord Wallace, on a trade mission through Megalos.

It seemed the show was very well received by the townsfolk, though none came forward to say they had seen Lord Wallace; in all, monies collected amounted to a little over 22 and a half gold marks, which, after reimbursement of the permit fee, was split up evenly amongst the participants—not a bad profit at all. During the cleanup afterward, the Heroes were approached by a well-dressed Wazifi man who greeted them in the Arab tongue—and was somewhat surprised when Magnifico responded in kind. Speaking Anglish, the man said his name was Aamir Rahmani, of Tredroy, and that he was very interested in sponsoring their show, “unique in all the world,” on a sweeping tour of the great cities of Al-Wazif. Though the Heroes had no time for such distractions from their mission to locate Lord Wallace, Bannock (where Lord Wallace had last been seen) was in Al-Wazif, and such a show there might be a good opportunity to cover their search. The man encouraged them to accept his offer and invited them to meet with him on the morrow before they left downriver; Magnfico promised him that they would do so. He would be found at the home of Proximo, a well-known dealer in slaves all over Megalos, with whom he was staying while in Craine.

Gabriel caught up to the rest as they returned to the Crimson Mug to bed down for the night; he had broken into the Aldenard hall and got away cleanly, but found next-to-nothing there that would shed any light on Lord Wallace’s potential whereabouts or his business with the trade company.

As Brother Mendel woke the following morning, he found a dagger stuck in a post by his bed, anchoring a paper note. Without reading the note, he immediately cast a Seeker spell to divine the location of the one who had left the dagger; he caught a vision of a man dressed in the garb of a Templar brother-knight, in a stone-walled room with a view of the river through a single, narrow window—likely the tower where Gabriel had shadowed the Templar earlier that day. Brother Mendel then carefully opened the note and read: “Give up on your search for Wallace or it will be your deaths.”


Notes

  • Gabriel’s player was called away to work shortly after the session started, and did not return until it was all but over; had that not occurred, more would undoubtedly have been made of his break-in
  • The GM gave Magnifico a -2 to handle the dragons due to the crowd, the size of which they had not yet experienced; then, at the critical moment, he rolled a “17” anyway—the die is a fickle mistress 😛
  • After the near-death of one of the crowd, Magnifico’s player was beginning to wonder, understandably, whether this large-scale production was a wise idea—then the Wazifi guy showed up
  • The discovery of the knife-note inevitably led to a lengthy discussion about how we should answer the deed; a most promising idea we had was to kidnap the Templar from his bed via a portal, created by “Alien Magic” (that is, Ritual Path Magic). As this group is inexperienced with RPM, this resulted in quite a long time spent figuring out what it would take for Brother Mendel, whose skills and abilities in such things are, as it turned out, woefully insufficient for what would turn out to be a rather more powerful effect than we had led ourselves to believe when we were portalling all over the Otherworld in Book I—suffice it to say that the “portal” plan was abandoned. Hopefully, we’ll have a better one ready for next time

Dramatis Personæ

Brother Mendel (Herodian)
Dane Sardock (Winston)
Gabriel Auditore (Rigil Kent)
Gestlin the Unpredictable (CommJunkee)
Magnifico the Clown (Feste)
Rainald North-Hammer (Gigermann)


bs-craine

Of Rumours and Questions

22 Apr 2014

In the morning, the Heroes split up.

Rainald went to the docks to help the crew with the ship’s maintenance, and help them get Gestlin’s wagon unloaded and reassembled for Magnifico, along with the flimsy, makeshift cages for Primus and Secundus—designed for onlookers’ peace-of-mind rather than keeping the dragons restrained. Between work shifts, Rainald made his way up and down the river’s docks and spoke with the sailors there about whatever might be of interest, and perhaps any sightings of Lord Wallace or the Merry Weather, the barge that had brought him downriver through Craine. Later in the day at some of the sailors’ suggestion, Rainald visited the office of the port authority. Given the impatient, agitated patrons loitering in the office lobby, he was surprised to be served so quickly—perhaps a perk of his status as Lord of Rainaldsheim? The small, well-mannered clerk led him to the archives and pulled down from the shelves a massive folio containing the port records for the specified period. Rainald realized then that he should have brought along someone who could read, and informed the clerk that he “would have to do the honors” for him; the clerk read aloud the pertinent information: the Merry Weather had indeed stopped in Craine for a couple of days about a year ago, though no accounting of passengers was available, nor its business at port. The clerk politely and professionally refused Rainald’s gift of a silver piece for his aid until it was “carelessly” dropped on the floor; Rainald helped the clerk put the heavy record-book back in its place, thanked the man again, and took his leave.

Gabriel and Gestlin made their way to the city’s market districts to ask after encounters with Lord Wallace when he undoubtedly stopped in Craine. The two both spotted a familiar sigil, that of House Berd, which belonged to the Lord of Fordham in Caithness, above the door of the hall of the Aldenard Trading Company. Thinking Lord Wallace would surely have done business with fellow Caithnessers, they strode up to the door and knocked. They were met at the door by a clerk, who led them into the lavishly-decorated lobby, full of rare curiosities from all over the known world (which Gestlin managed not to knock over). Upon inquiry, the clerk informed the two that this company was owned and run by Hagen Berd, nephew to Lord Fordham, and traded in various goods, but his master was unavailable to meet with them; he instead offered to give his master word of their desire to speak. Gabriel sensed the man was hiding the truth, and taking care that his dragon tattoos were visible to him, forcefully demanded again to see his master; the clerk took umbrage and demanded the two leave the premises. Gestlin made a valiant attempt to defuse the situation, but the clerk would not budge an inch, promising only that the master would be informed of their wishes, and that they would be contacted at their lodging when he became available. Seeing they would learn nothing more from the man, the two left; Gabriel told Gestlin of his suspicions as they returned to the square.

Magnifico, along with Brother Mendel, had borrowed Gestlin’s wagon intending to take the dragons on a street-tour of the city in advertisement of the show he intended to perform that evening, expecting someone would stop him and tell him where he needed to go to obtain proper permission for such an event. The spectacle drew throngs of onlookers immediately—a dragon of any kind was a rare sight indeed—and they were stopped by the city guard, who were rather less informed regarding administrative matters than Magnifico had hoped. They instead turned the wagon about and headed in the direction of the city’s arena, followed all the way by a crowd of the curious. But when they arrived, they saw that the arena was vacant—an off day—and the playbill indicated no shows to be performed therein this day. Then they continued to the town hall, crowds still following, and begged an audience with the city’s masters. The audience was granted, and they discovered that permission to perform at the arena would be ludicrously expensive, especially on such short notice as this, but as the administrators were eager to disperse the crowd, they settled on a permit to perform in the market square in the evening for five gold marks; between the Magnifico and Brother Mendel, they gathered and paid the fee, and went their way, expecting to recover their money and much more.

bs-CrimsonMugDane spent the day relaxing at the Crimson Mug inn, listening, carefully and discreetly, to the conversations amongst the soldiers and mercenaries drinking and eating there throughout the day. As afternoon approached, the rest of the Heroes began to trickle in from their business in the city to join him. Rainald told of his findings at the port authority. Gabriel and Gestlin told of their experience at the guild-hall. Magnifico and Brother Mendel were the last to arrive at the inn, and as they did, they informed the others of “the show”; Rainald volunteered to help manage the crowd, and there was talk of enlisting Gestlin’s magical talents for the performance. (Also, they discussed the need for a collapsible “stage” to be added to the wagon for future occasions such as this.)

Some time later, a well-dressed man claiming to be Hagen Berd arrived at the inn and found the Heroes at their corner. They invited him to their table and asked what business he might have done with Lord Wallace, and when he might have seen him last; he, in return, asked many questions of them, about what they knew or didn’t know, but in turn revealed little, raising much suspicion regarding his motives. Then, a very drunk man at a table across the room spotted the man and waved in a friendly manner, calling out his name as “Valorus”; the man who had claimed to be Hagen Berd quickly excused himself and left the inn in a hurry, ignoring the drunk man’s attempts to get his attention.

Gabriel left immediately after, and discreetly followed behind “Valorus” as he hurried down the street, constantly looking over his shoulder. Gabriel observed as he met with a man garbed in the uniform of a Templar Knight, who then escorted “Valorus” back to the Aldenard guild-hall before leaving him there. Meanwhile, back at the inn, the others bought the drunk man another drink and attempted to coax from him more information about this “Valorus” fellow and what he might have been up to; he didn’t know him well—just drank with him sometimes—but he did confirm that it was not Hagen Berd they had spoken to. This man, a furrier by trade, had been commissioned on a number of occasions to make fur coats for Master Berd’s many mistresses, though he had never met him in person, nor knew any more of his dealings.

Some time later, Gabriel returned and shared his discovery, and Dane began to put the pieces of the puzzle together: Lord Wallace had a long-standing grievance regarding the appointment, against his many objections, of the royalist Lord Fordham as regent of the Caithnesser kingdom on the Huallapan world after the Crusade’s end, and there had been no love lost between them since; also, the Templars had not much of a presence in Caithness until the appointment of the late Bishop Zabka, a Templar agent, to the Archdiocese of Photius, and could gain much standing both in Caithness and the Otherworld through collusion with Lord Fordham, and the rebel Lord Wallace’s popularity could interfere with their backing of the more sympathetic royalist barons. Between the two factions, there was certainly plenty of motivation to do Lord Wallace harm. But “the show must go on,” and so, the Heroes discussed what to do next.


Notes

  • This is the first time Rainald’s illiteracy actually reared its head in-game
  • Brother Mendel’s player was late this session, or he might have gone with Rainald earlier; worked out anyways, since he’s an integral part of the traveling dragon show (that keeps getting bigger every time we stop)

Craine.

The smell of it was so damned familiar, even though almost twenty years had passed since he last walked these streets. Even as Gestlin nattered on, saying absolutely nothing that was of importance, Gabriel was lost to the memories. He did not realize until it was too late that his feet had once again led him by his old home. Thankfully, the wizard beside him seemed ignorant of his distraction as he continued to ramble about … what? Was he talking about rabbits? No matter. As long as he paid no attention to Gabriel’s expression.

Nothing remained of his old home, though that was no surprise, not with how he and Father left it so very long ago. This was the first time since then he’d dared to even set foot in this neighborhood – when last he was in Craine some sixteen years back, he’d given this entire side of the city a wide berth. Gabriel grimaced at the new house there – the stonework was all wrong; the roof was in that new style which was so unattractive, but the smells … they were still the same despite the years…

bs-craineTwenty-Two Years Ago

The ring of steel against steel woke him.

Gabriel was already out of his bed, his legs tense and his muscles taut, long before his brain realized what was happening. He heard the grunts of men dying, of blades slicing through flesh and cloth, of hurried orders called out by unfamiliar voices. Fear coursed through his body as he hesitantly reached for the sheathed half-sword hanging off of his bed. He had just pulled the tiny rapier out when his door exploded.

Father was there, blood streaming down his face, and he danced away from the blades of two heavily armored men – with a flourish that Gabriel recognized as Kissing the Adder, his father dropped one of the men, and then twirled away from the other warrior’s fierce counterstrike. Overbalanced, the murderer had to throw himself to the ground to avoid Father’s spinning strike.

The man never saw Gabriel.

His rapier thrust was a simple one – Eel Among the Lily Pads – but the blade sliced through the man’s pants with immediate results. The murderer cried out in shock and pain, recoiling away with such speed that it tore the small rapier from Gabriel’s hand. Terror lanced through Gabriel then as the man gave him a dark look – he had no weapon! – but Father was faster, smoother, more dangerous. He flowed back into position, the rapier flickering faster than the eye could follow, and the wounded man’s cry turned into a startled gurgle as the elder Auditore cut his throat.

“Get your boots, boy,” Father ordered sharply. “Quickly now!” His voice was harsh and cold, but Gabriel could see the pain in his eyes. He wanted to hesitate, wanted to ask questions, but the fear that threatened to turn his bowels to water instead gave strength to his muscles. With deft fingers, he pulled on his boots and then, at Father’s quick head gesture, donned the traveling cloak. “Stay close,” Father instructed as he glided out of the room. Gabriel followed.

Beyond, in the wide dining hall, there were a dozen bodies, all armored but unmoving. The sharp smell of spilled blood hit him at once and Gabriel barely bit back the urge to vomit – he swallowed the hard lump in his throat as he followed Father toward the study. There too were corpses, all wearing black and gray. Gabriel had no eyes for them.

Because his mother was here as well.

She was on the floor, half leaning against Father’s desk, staring sightlessly at him, and Gabriel automatically cried out in horror when he saw the crimson staining her dress. Two crossbow bolts stood out from her chest and the expression on her face was one of surprise. He took a step closer to her, his mind reeling, but Father caught his shoulder with his free hand.

“There’s no time for tears, lad,” he said through clenched teeth. Abruptly, Gabriel realized that Father was also bleeding – he had a crossbow bolt in his belly as well, but somehow, was still moving. “Grieve later,” Father ordered. He led the way to the secret passageway concealed by the fireplace, pausing momentarily to snatch one of the oil lanterns from where it hung just within. With a flick of his wrist, Father sent the lantern tumbling toward the shelves on the far side of the study – it shattered with an explosion of glass, hurling oil in all directions and, almost instantly, fire sprang up. “Requiescat in pace, my love,” Father murmured as he backed into the tunnel. He triggered the release and, with the soft sound of muted gears turning, the fireplace rolled back into place, leaving them in the darkness broken only by the faint light of the other lanterns.

“Father…”

“There is no time,” came the immediate response. “We must away from Craine as quickly as possible.”

“You’re wounded,” Gabriel began before blinking. “Claudia,” he said as he glanced around. “Where is my sister?”

“With the Lord now,” Father said grimly. He began limping down the narrow corridor.

The flight from Craine was a nightmare of madness, blood and death. They emerged from the concealed tunnel into the city proper, but found a handful of men waiting for them. Father danced the forms brilliantly, killing three before they even knew of the danger they were facing, and then slew the remaining two in a blink of an eye. Gabriel’s fear gave way to anger and, when reinforcements arrived, he fell upon them fiercely, the raw fury of his attack making up for his poor form. One, he killed outright – an exceedingly sloppy Mongoose Takes a Viper – and the other, he slowed long enough for Father to draw close enough to stab him through the eye. These men also were given to the fire, though this time, it was Gabriel who threw his lantern. The blaze grew rapidly – it had been a dry summer and there was too much straw here – and they fled into the darkened alleys as the hungry flames crawled up the building that was the Auditore ancestral home.

Father led him through the back streets and alleys that were a veritable maze. They paused briefly to dress his wounds – Gabriel could not help but to notice how hot his father’s skin was – and then pressed on, evading the watch with almost casual ease. To his surprise, Father angled not for the gates, but rather the docks where he entered a darkened warehouse that jutted out over the river. Inside, there were several boats of varying size and he pointed to a small skiff clearly meant for but a few. Into the boat, Father tossed several items taken from various hiding places within the warehouse – several oilskin cloaks, a heavy bag that had the look of traveling supplies, several long poles that Gabriel thought to be for fishing – and then climbed in awkwardly.

“Keep low and silent,” he ordered once they had both donned the darkened cloaks. He pushed them away from where they had been moored and the fast-moving current carried them free. Rowing was not necessary, not with the flow of the river so swift, and with the moon high in the sky, they raced to western river-gate. It was closed, of course, but only for large vessels – a small fisherman’s boat like this was easily maneuvered through the narrow gaps. There was even a watchman who did not bother stirring from where he crouched atop the river-gate, though Gabriel suspected the man was actually asleep.

Gabriel looked back as Craine fell away from view. The adrenaline and the terror were beginning to wane, leaving only a frightened, cold boy of fourteen. Father was murmuring something that had the sound of a prayer and Gabriel was suddenly struck by how tired the man looked.

Put away your childhood, he told himself. Raphael, his elder brother, now a score of months dead, had told him to do that once, and the words rang true. Yes. It was time to become a man.

“I can steer,” he told his father as he crept toward the tiller. He knew only the basics of boatmanship, but right now, they were simply allowing the current to carry them. “You should rest, Father.” It was only logical.

Because they had a long way to go.

Defeat. It was bitter and cruel, stinging far worse than any of the new mended wounds he’d suffered. His muscles were stiff and the ache in his chest still made breathing difficult, but the worst part was knowing how badly he’d failed. He should have died. And why? Because he was a fool who did not retreat when he should have. The terrain had been against him – mobility was his primary weapon and that rutting swamp had robbed him of that – and had he but a lick of sense, he would have faded back into the weeds to strike at a time of his choosing. Gah. Gabriel spat, grimacing at the sharp stab of pain that lanced through his torso as he did. He’d been warned – Mendel told him that the stiffness would be with him for a few hours, adding that it was a small price to pay for one’s life while eyeing the older scars that decorated Gabriel’s torso with curiosity; thankfully, the monk held his tongue and asked no questions.

Rainald’s booming voice echoed across the boat – he was in a fine mood after successfully negotiating them out of an untenable situation – but Gabriel paid no attention to the words as he stared at the water stretching out before them. He should have died. His stomach coiled and twisted at the impotent rage swimming there – dying did not frighten him, but being helpless? Being unable to do anything to hurry death along or prevent it? That chilled him.

And it was not the first time.

SkyrimReach1

Three Years Ago

He hated snow.

Bitter cold air froze his breath as he led Cometes up through the narrow mountain pass – this was the quickest route to his destination, the tiny village that one of Zabka’s associates lorded over, but Gabriel was already reconsidering this particular plan. He had already killed a half dozen of the renegade bishop’s men – they claimed to be members of something called the Order of Talos, though he’d yet to learn exactly what that was yet – and all of the information he’d obtained pointed here … but now, with his rage no longer hot, he had to admit that it was too convenient, too easy. This far north, this high in the mountains, at this time of year? Only a fool would take this path. A fool or a madman. He wondered which one he was.

Snow crunched underfoot as he continued up the pass – it had widened into an actual road earlier, then narrowed down to little more than a footpath before once more becoming a trail large enough for carts – and Gabriel shivered. Tugging his cloak tight, he gave the road ahead a quick look before clambering up into the saddle. Cometes gave him a foul look but he ignored it as he continued to shiver. He’d already removed his armor – it wasn’t properly insulated for this kind of weather – but with the metal corselet safely stored in the saddlebags, he felt naked, vulnerable, exposed.

The ambush came without warning.

With barely a sound, the two shooters fired their crossbows and, barely a heartbeat later, the twin bolts slammed home into Gabriel’s torso. The impact tore a surprised gasp from him even as his muscles spasmed and he fell from Cometes’ back, smashing into the dirt with another bruising impact that ripped the breath right out of him. Cometes startled and then sprang forward, reacting with animal instincts to a sudden attack, and within seconds, the horse was out of sight, hooves thundering. Gabriel thought he heard a man’s voice cry out in surprise, but the sharp agony stabbing through him ripped coherence away.

Get up! he screamed at himself, but his body refused to obey. He knew the shooters would be here in moments – if they were wise, they were reloading their weapons before advancing – but the pain … dear God, the pain … Long moments passed before he was able to blink away the shock and by then, he could hear the sound of men moving through the trees. There was no way he could get to his feet and defend against them, not now, not in his condition. But there were alternatives to fighting …

By the time the two woodsmen came into sight, Gabriel had burrowed slightly into a snow drift, ignoring the cold and wet that accompanied the snow. He’d flipped the elven cloak over his body and concentrated on its magics. Instantly, a wave of fatigue coursed through him as the enchantments drain vitality from him, and on top of the agony in his chest, it was almost enough to make him groan. He bit it back though, even as he slid Angrist out of its sheathe and gripped the knife tightly.

“Do you see him?” one of the shooters asked. He was an ugly man, with wide features and squinty eyes. From his accent, he was Megalan, but the crossbow and the cut of his clothes were pure Caithness.

“I saw him fall,” his cohort muttered in response. He was younger than the other man and without the unattractive features, but the black scowl on his face made him nearly as ugly. They drew closer – Gabriel tightened his hold on his knife even as the cold seeped through his clothes and his body trembled – but neither appeared to be looking in his direction at the moment. The uglier of the two leaned over the sharp drop and grimaced.

“Think he went over?” he asked. “That’s a long fall.”

“Well I did not see him on that damned horse,” the other man grumbled. He stepped closer to the first who was still peering over the ledge. “Mayhap you should look for him down there.”

And then, he pushed the ugly man over the edge.

There was no warning – the older man was as surprised as Gabriel – and the victim of this unexpected shove had just enough time to yelp with shock before he vanished. Gabriel could hear a bone-cracking thud, and then another, and then … silence. The younger man leaned forward slightly, his expression creased in satisfaction as he watched his victim vanish.

“Your wife says hello,” the man said with a sneer. He glanced around quickly, clearly trying to locate Gabriel, but glowered when found nothing. A moment later, he glanced back in the direction that Cometes had gone before quickly kicking one of the snow drifts over the side – it was the closest to where his former ambusher had stood. Thunder raced up the trail and, heartbeats later, three horsemen appeared. Two were clearly just muscle, but the third had the innate arrogance of a nobleman. This man gave the clearing a look before frowning.

“Where is Gaius?” he demanded.

“He went over the side, my lord,” the ambusher quickly said as he ducked his head. “I was over there,” he added, pointing in Gabriel’s general direction. “And I heard him call out but by the time I got here, he was gone.”

“And the assassin?” The noble edged his horse closer to the lip and stood up in the saddle so he could peer over the side. “What of him?” He nodded toward where the ugly man went over. “Did he do this?”

“I … I don’t know, my lord.” The murderer glanced around, his eyes darting, and through the fog of pain, Gabriel realized that the man was looking for him. “It happened so fast, my lord…”

“He might have been on that horse, my lord,” one of the noble’s guards said. “We should continue pursuit of it.”

“I saw no one in the saddle,” the noble declared angrily. “And no horse is that fast when carrying a rider.”

“This assassin is said to possess elf gifts that make him invisible, my lord,” the other guard said.

“Find him,” the noble snapped. He pinned the first man, the one who had pushed his companion over the side, with a fierce look. “Find Gaius’ body,” he ordered. “If the assassin killed him, then mayhap Gaius took the bastard with him.” To the other two he looked. “Find the horse. Kill it or capture, I care not. But if the assassin is there, kill him.” With an angry flick of his reins, he kicked his horse into a trot.

“Arrogant bastard,” one of the guards muttered. “I hope the assassin finds him first.” He reined his own horse around. “I’ll give you a ride to the bottom,” he said to the ambusher who nodded before giving the woods another brief, worried glance. The three were gone moments later, leaving Gabriel alone.

He remained where he was hidden for a long time, both unable and unwilling to move from concealment. The cold snow seeped into his very bones, and his vision blurred out. Darkness beckoned and he was unable to keep it at bay.

How long he was unconscious, he didn’t know but when he woke, his entire body was trembling from the cold. With a groan that he could not stop, Gabriel forced uncooperative limbs to function and climbed slowly to his feet. He tried to sheathe Angrist but his shaking hands made it difficult. The sun had already dropped at least partially behind far distant peaks, casting ominous shadows across the trail. Gabriel limped toward the treeline. Within minutes, he found the sniper’s nest from where the two men had shot him – it was little more than some raised bushes behind which a depression had been dug, but it would do.

Removing the crossbow bolts was a new agony and he passed out at least twice before finally succeeding. Binding the wounds with scraps torn from his shirt was just as difficult and when he slumped back against the dirt, so thoroughly exhausted that he could not move, Gabriel wondered how he could get out of this. If Cometes had not fled, he could have used that remaining healing potion he’d bought some time back. It wouldn’t be quite enough to restore him to full health, but it would at least be adequate so he could think straight. No matter. Thinking straight was not important at the moment. Only action. With another grimace, he forced himself upright once more. Cometes had gone that way so he needed to follow. Follow and find a way to avoid getting killed. He grimaced at the difficulty in placing one foot in front of the other – sharp stabs of agony coursed through his torso with each step – but he did not stop. He could not stop. Not until he had justice.

Gabriel clung to that thought as he limped his way through the woods.

Dramatis Personæ

Brother Mendel (Herodian)
Dane Sardock (Winston)
Gabriel Auditore (Rigil Kent)
Gestlin the Unpredictable (CommJunkee)
Magnifico the Clown (Herodian, for Feste)
Rainald North-Hammer (Gigermann)


bs-journey2

Of Pirates and Soldiers

14 Apr 2014

bs-64-screen2With little time to think things through before the ambushers repositioned themselves, Gabriel and Rainald got a long running start and launched themselves as far out as they could into the river. Gabriel, the best swimmer among the Heroes, executed a perfect dive and made quickly for the shore, while Rainald entered the water rather clumsily, and had a bit of a hard time getting himself sorted before he finally made progress toward the riverbank. Gestlin, holding an Exploding Fireball, and Dane, his bow, scanned the shoreline for clear targets; they could see little but shadows for the trees and undergrowth that veiled the enemy’s movements. Gabriel reached the shore well before Rainald, and hauled himself into the long grass that dominated the land here, creeping forward as quickly as the terrain would allow, in an attempt to get a view of their attackers; he slid behind a tree and activated his Elvish Hunter’s Cloak, making him practically invisible in the shadows there. He could see the enemy just ahead, moving together as a unit, as a “voice” commanded them to form a shield wall; Gabriel could make out crossbows in the rank behind the shields and spears—these were not mere brigands, but trained soldiers. As the enemy was forming up, Gestlin saw just enough through the trees from his elevated position on the ship, and let fly the Explosive Fireball he had been holding; it landed amidst the formation, but the enemy was undeterred—disciplined; this would be no easy fight. Gabriel attempted to sneak around to the flank of the formation as quickly as he could through the slog of mud and swamp-grass, but was miraculously spotted by the “Voice,” who alerted the formation to his presence. Meanwhile, Gestlin cast Walk on Air upon Rainald, who, as he swam furiously forward, found himself climbing out of the water. Rainald pushed back his initial shock, got to his feet, and charged forward, just above the height of the tall grass. Brother Mendel crafted a Complex Illusion, making himself appear larger and louder, wreathed in flame, swearing Doom upon the ambushers, but the enemy took little notice of the display, being focused on the fighters before them by their commander. The “Voice” alerted his men to the presence of Gestlin, now high in the air and closing, as a result of another Walk on Air spell; another Fireball was loosed down upon the formation, but the soldiers held fast, firing their crossbows as they had opportunity, passing empty weapons to the rear as loaded weapons were passed forward. bs-64-screen1Gabriel, having arrived at the flank of the formation, found himself engaged with enemy spearmen while tangled in a nasty thicket that proved itself the enemy’s ally; Gabriel took a bodkin-point through his cuirasse, but struggled on. Rainald finally joined the fray, and after pausing to take a bolt or two in his shield, charged over the formation, intent on hitting the crossbowmen to the rear. Rainald and Gabriel both spotted the “Voice” emerging from the trees behind the formation, a giant of a man bearing a massive greatsword; the enemy’s captain spotted Rainald flying over his shield-wall and recognized him, calling out his name in surprise. But Gabriel and Rainald did not yet recognize the man in return; Gabriel continued to struggle through the thicket as Rainald spiraled down from above to the rear of the formation. The enemy captain took a receiving stance, demanding the Heroes lay down their weapons or face death. Gabriel attempted to attack the man, but thanks to the enemy thicket, he not only failed to connect, but caught a heavy blow to the ribs that dropped him to the ground. Perhaps it was something in the way the massive soldier swung the greatsword with such grace that caught Rainald’s attention, for he was reminded that this mountain of a man before him was an ally of Wallace from the Huallapan Crusade, Sir Rodham Malfoy. As Gabriel crawled out of the greatsword’s range, bleeding profusely and clinging to consciousness, a very confused Rainald and desperate Sir Rodham continued to posture and threaten one another until Rainald, in a moment of clarity, demanded to know what all this was about before the former-allies ended up killing one another for no good reason. When Sir Rodham declared that he was after the ship’s cargo, Rainald understood the situation, and offered to parley; Sir Rodham agreed, and commanded his men to stand down, then Rainald bellowed, “PARLEY!” for the others’ benefit—Brother Mendel was levitated halfway across the river at that point, and Gestlin was about to cast Walk on Air on Dane, who had yet to even lay eyes on the enemy.

The fight now ceased, Rainald told Sir Rodham that there was no cargo to speak of aboard the ship, but that he could see for himself; Sir Rodham demanded they disarm, but when Rainald swore an oath that the man would not be harmed, he relented and sent his men to fetch a boat, and to bind Gabriel’s wounds—Gabriel would remain ashore as a hostage.

bs-malfoySir Rodham Malfoy was a landed knight of Donlis, and Lord-Commander of the Iron Lancers, who had proven themselves very capable during the Crusade against the Vasa. But he was dishonored after the last battle of the Crusade, when he ordered his men to come to the aid of Lord Wallace as he had promised, in defiance of orders given by Krandall Marsden, Lord of Donlis and Lathan Redbeard, Lord of Redhall, to remain in the village of Tooktook. Afterward, Lord Donlis swore that there would be dire consequences, and upon their return to Caithness, Sir Rodham was stripped of his titles and lands. Destitute, living with his family at a monastery, Sir Rodham returned from a hunt one day to find his wife and young son murdered, hanging from a tree. Sir Boris Marsden, son of Lord Donlis, had hung a distinctive coin ’round Sir Rodham’s wife’s neck as a taunt; Sir Rodham hunted down and killed Sir Boris, stringing him up on a tree by his own entrails. Now an outlaw, Sir Rodham and his Iron Lancers lived on what they could take from the river.

The disgraced knight told his tale of woe as they rowed over to the ship, continuing as Rainald and Captain Finn showed him to the hold. He “claimed” the small amount of trade goods there, and Finn agreed that it wasn’t worth fighting over and allowed Sir Rodham’s men to take it. Their “business” concluded, the Heroes told Sir Rodham of their mission to find Lord Wallace, and he admitted he had not seen him pass through this way, but agreed that if he did encounter him later, he would see him returned home. Rainald then promised Sir Rodham that after they found Lord Wallace, or what had become of him, they would return to help Sir Rodham restore his good name and get his revenge, and if they could not, that Lord Wallace would undoubtedly take him in.

bs-craine

bs-craineSeven days later, after the ambush in the Donlis swampland, the Gleaming Endeavor arrived at the confluence of the River Smoke and the River Conn, far inside the Megalan border; the next stop in the Heroes’ journey, Craine, the largest city in Western Megalos, lay just ahead. They berthed the ship at the city’s docks, and paid the usual fees; along with taking on fresh provisions, there was regular maintenance that needed doing, which would take a few days. Gabriel had clearly been to Craine before in his travels; he made a few recommendations on which tavern they should hit first—they made for the Crimson Mug, an establishment frequented by soldiers and mercenaries. Gabriel would join them later, as he needed to take Cometes out for a ride, to stretch his legs. (The others were not aware that he intended to ride past the home where he grew up, here in Craine—Gabriel had never spoken of it.)

The Heroes, and the crew of the Gleaming Endeavor, spent the better part of the day drinking and relaxing, listening to rumors and stories told by the other patrons. A Megalan mercenary staggered over to the Heroes’ corner table; the man took issue with Gabriel, obviously Megalan, hanging out with all these backstabbing Caithnessers—he said something about a raid into Caithness, or by Caithness, and someone getting killed by Caithnessers. Brother Mendel began to defuse the situation with drink(s), as usual, but as the inebriated soldier continued to try to pick a fight, Gestlin caused him to Sleep instead. Perhaps feeling somewhat sorry for the man, some silver was passed to one of the nearby prostitutes, and Rainald carried the sleeping fellow upstairs to her room, leaving him there in her (bored, as he was unconscious) company. A bit later, some other Megalan soldiers at a nearby table were talking about a situation brewing in Al-Wazif, and Bannock in particular, that created an undeniable opportunity to retake the city for Megalos; Rainald brought a round of drinks to their table and joined them for a while, coaxing out the details, as he was “looking for mercenary work.” Meanwhile, there had been a couple of minstrels playing on opposite sides of the room, but during a break, Magnifico took advantage of the lull to play and sing himself, a new song he had written about the deeds of Lord Wallace; the song was well-received by the patrons, drawing calls for more, and more than one round of free drinks, but this time, no accounts of encounters with Lord Wallace here. Then, as the day drew down, the Heroes and the crew made arrangements to lodge for the night, eager for a night in a bed that didn’t sway with the waves.


Notes

  • Magnifico’s player was out this week; the character was taken up by Herodian in his stead when called for
  • Rainald was using a default Swimming skill of 8, and I had little confidence that he would make the swim in any reasonable amount of time (if at all), but I was committed to the action already; as it turned out, after swallowing some water and 5 seconds of flailing about, he managed to get moving in spite of it. He will be getting a point in Swimming this time, though—not suffering that again
  • All the party members (except Gestlin, who is new) had received a Hunter’s Cloak, a gift from the Elves of Harkwood in the latter days of Book I; these are not self-powered, so they require FP expenditure on the part of the weilder to activate
  • Gabe’s player had a really bad day at the dice, combined with some regrettable choices in his angle of approach; he was at ½-¼ Move/Dodge for the entire fight, and made a lot of bad rolls on top of that, to add insult to injury. C’est le jeu
  • Once again we really should have backed off and evaluated the tactical situation rather than charge madly and disorderly into the fray—it could easily have gone far worse, and Sir Rodham is no joke with that greatsword. On the other hand, if we had beaten them soundly and/or killed Sir Rodham, it really would have been a shame, in retrospect, given the sympathetic nature of his story. In any case, I still want to know if Rainald could have beaten him in single combat…we may do a test-fight later, just to see

Dramatis Personæ

Brother Mendel (Herodian)
Gabriel Auditore (Rigil Kent)
Gestlin the Unpredictable (CommJunkee)
Magnifico the Clown (Feste)
Rainald North-Hammer (Gigermann)


bs-journey1

Of Comedies and Tragedies

7 Apr 2014

bs-koggeThe Heroes arose early the next morning, and were treated to a generous breakfast meal by their host. After they had eaten, Master Cray bade them ask of him what they would; the only thing they could think to need beside the ship already provided was a decent map covering the lands they were to journey through. A servant fetched a purse for Master Cray, and they left straightaway for the Simonton docks, to a well-known mapmaker there. Once some suitable maps were procured, Master Cray escorted the Heroes to the Gleaming Endeavor and introduced them to the captain, a gruff, grey-haired man called Finn, with whom they made arrangements for the immediate loading of their things. Most decided to sell their horses, though Gabriel would not part with Cometes (to none’s surprise); Rainald decided to leave his very-strong horse, Greyfell, with Master Cray, to keep until their return. Captain Finn was already informed about Gestlin’s wagon, though it was a bit bigger than he was prepared for; they decided to remove the wheels and axles, and lashed it to the deck. Captain Finn was not informed of the presence of the two dragons before, and balked at the idea of bringing them along; he insisted they be caged, but Magnifico soothed his fears with some circus tricks to prove their discipline, and the Captain relented that they should be kept on a leash instead, sleeping atop the wagon as usual. The Captain introduced his crew, including Shaun, Tully, and two dark-skinned fellows, brothers, named Bombatta and Zuba; he had to let some of his people go to make room for his passengers, and insisted that any among the Heroes who were able should help out—Rainald volunteered without hesitation, having quite a bit of experience with small sailing vessels; the others all followed suit as well, offering whatever service they were good for. They immediately went to work helping with the loading of provisions and such, including a deer or two for the dragons, and were under way before noon.

bs-finn

That evening, the Captain invited the Heroes to his cabin for supper, and as they ate, he discussed the particulars of the journey: he expected around two weeks before they would reach Craine, in Megalos, where they would take on provisions, though they would stop along the way for fresh water and such. He then inquired about the Heroes’ mission, and what his part was expected to be; they decided they had nothing to hide, and told him of the facts known regarding Lord Wallace’s disappearance. Captain Finn suggested that Lord Wallace might have been taken captive by Wazifi slavers at the Sa’azaraq Straits, though none were aware of any ransom demands, which suggested Wallace might be keeping his identity secret.

Satisfied with what he’d been told, and noting Magnifico’s appearance as an entertainer, Captain Finn suggested he entertain the crew for the evening. Atop the aft-castle, Magnifico played out the story of the Heroes’ adventures together before and during the Huallapan Crusade, greatly embellished for dramatic effect, enhanced as in the old days by Brother Mendel’s magical illusory illustration. The Captain and the crew were greatly impressed, such that they were excited to be a part of this new adventure alongside them.

Several days later the Gleaming Endeavor arrived at the river-town of Donlis toward the evening, and stopped there for the night. The Heroes decided to take their ease at a somewhat-higher class of establishment this time; Magnifico had a plan to do some entertaining there, and win the crew a free round of drinks. He strode brazenly up to the tavern’s proprietor and announced his intentions; though the man was disinclined at first, Magnifico smooth-talked him into allowing him to entertain the patrons. Once again, Magnifico played out the Heroes’ story, with Brother Mendel’s illustration, and now with the crew of the Gleaming Endeavor to cheer him on as well—he even worked the crew into the story, though they were not originally there. But Magnifico had a hidden agenda; he made certain to focus on Lord Wallace’s participation in their adventures, such that someone who might have seen him recently might recognize him—and so it was, that one of the tavern patrons declared that he knew that man, Wallace. Again, at the end, Magnifico’s talents were rewarded with the praise of his audience, and many rounds of drink as he had intended. Rainald took the occasion to speak to the man who had said he had seen Lord Wallace, and extracted his story: this man was among the crew of the barge that Lord Wallace had taken from Simonton, and had been with him for some weeks, before the barge turned back at Bannock, as was their schedule—the barge was not seaworthy, and could not cross Keyhole Bay—he last saw Lord Wallace at Bannock, and had heard nothing more since.

bs-gladesriver

After a pleasant evening, the Heroes and the crew returned to the ship and set sail once again. Downriver of Donlis was a vast, shallow swampland, treacherous to navigate without a local guide, but the Captain had oft sailed these waters and knew them well. A day or so later, a body was spotted in the reeds near the riverbank, shot in the back with arrows, and not long dead by the look of it. They fished the body out of the river, and Brother Mendel cast a spell to Speak with the Dead, learning only that the dead man’s boat had been attacked from the riverbank by a hail of arrows before he had perished. Though piracy in these parts was not unusual, they normally let go their prey, taking only the cargo—the Captain agreed they should be wary, and all donned their armor. Soon after, they spied a column of smoke in the distance, and as they crept carefully forward down the river, they came upon the burning, half-sunk wreck of a riverboat—it bore a harpoon stuck deep in the rear quarter, the line cut. Seeing no sign of ambush, they continued past the wreck. Ahead, Brother Mendel and Gabriel spied what appeared to be rope below the water’s surface spanning the width of the river—a trap, meant to tear the rudder from the ship’s keel, by Gabriel’s reckoning. Captain Finn acted quickly, commanding the crew to drop the anchor and bring the ship to a full-stop; the ship strained at the line and drifted with the current, swinging ’round astern to rest a few paces before the trap. Gestlin charged up a large Fireball and blasted a log on the bank where the ropes were attached, throwing spray and splinters high into the air. Magnifico commanded Primus and Secundus to fly, and they circled wide overhead. The others scrambled about the deck to face their invisible attackers. Then, as Gestlin charged up another Fireball, someone spotted movement some distance ahead in the trees along the riverbank—men approaching, undoubtedly the pirates—and they all prepared to do battle.


Notes

  • Winston was AWOL this week; fortunately Dane wasn’t truly needed, though he definitely will be next time
  • Cometes is Gabriel’s Animal Ally, an exceptional white horse—obviously he would be going along no matter what; similarly, Gestlin’s wagon is a signature item (literally?), and would not be left behind
  • Magnifico’s player ended up rolling a “5” for both performances, plus assistance bonus from Mendel; needless to say his story was well received. The combination of Magnifico’s storytelling and Mendel’s illusions hails from the Book I adventures; anytime someone needed to be told what happened before, we’d break out the “newsreel footage”
  • There was a bit of discussion at the end about how best to clear 20yds of river to the bank, to get the fighters to land to deal with the enemy; Gabriel is an excellent swimmer, but Rainald is most definitely not (he’s at default), as is Radskyrta. At the end, we were prepared to jump as far as we could to get some distance, but success is far from certain—maybe a better plan will emerge before next session

Auqui. Why did Magnifico have to reference the boy in this blasted tale of his? Laughter and joy exploded around him as the tiny crew of the Gleaming Endeavor clapped and cheered while the hunchback bard wove his saga of heroism and glory, but Gabriel was already slipping away into the shadows. Surely there was some place on this boat where he could hide himself away from the accusing whispers that even now burned in his ears…

WhitehallTower

Five Weeks Ago

One could not reach Whitehall Tower without intentionally seeking it out.

Situated in a fairly remote part of Wallace lands, it was nestled just inside the borders, where the mountains of the north ended and the Great Desert loomed. Politically, it was very likely a part of Tacitus territory, or perhaps even Ginnrel, but neither cared to claim it due to the difficulty required in traveling there. Decades earlier, a knight flush with gold had decided to erect a mighty fortress in this far distant location, no matter that his closest friends and allies alike urged him otherwise. Stonemasons, dwarven and human alike, gladly accepted his coin and construction of the castle began atop a rocky hill that was just short of being a small mountain. When the knight’s coin rand dry, only the bare essentials had been erected, which turned out to be the keep itself. There was no wall to stop besiegers, but in truth, the location itself held no strategic value whatsoever so such defensive fortifications were unnecessary.

The knight died penniless and alone – it was nigh on a year after his passing before anyone ventured to that lonely hall and learned of his death – and the Tower passed back into the hands of lords of Wallace. Four times in the last score of years it had been bequeathed upon knights, but all of them passed without heirs (or, in one instance, squandered their inheritance so thoroughly that the Lord was forced to strip him of his rank), and in that time, it became synonymous with loss.

Gabriel Auditore, knight-errant in the service of Lord Wallace, was the latest to be called its master.

When Malcolm gifted it to him, the lord did so knowing full well that it was exactly the kind of place Gabriel longed for. Difficult to find and far from the comforts of civilization, it would allow him to focus entirely upon his art, to deepen his mastery of the sword without having to concern himself with unexpected travelers or guests. There was game enough in the surrounding environs to live off and Lord Wallace believed his new knight wise enough to stock plentiful stores to keep from starving. Having witnessed Gabriel’s capability with a blade – indeed, he had learned a few things himself from the young blademaster – Malcolm even considered the possibility that, some day, would-be swordsmen might come to Whitehall Tower seeking personal instruction from a true master. The name itself seemed a good omen and if truthful, he would have admitted to enjoying the thought of dragon-marked warriors sworn to the service of his land.

What he had not factored was Auqui.

*

His entire body ached as he led Cometes up the rocky road leading to Whitehall, but Gabriel tried very hard to ignore the discomfort.

The air was crisp this early in the year, and he suddenly regretted turning down Rainald’s offer to stay for one more day. His old friend had been disappointed and perhaps a trifle confused, but Gabriel quickly diverted the big man’s attention by asking a leading question about the Northman’s encounter with the witches. Hildra had given her husband a strange look – it was equal parts amusement, disbelief, frustration and anger – and the two promptly fell to arguing in their native tongue which sounded like so much gibberish to him, thus allowing Gabriel to make good his escape and set off before noon. He hated lying to Rainald, but he had no plans to discuss Auqui and the Northman had never learned when to let things go.

So he fled. It was, he mused darkly, the thing he was most capable of doing.

With each step that brought him closer to Whitehall, the heavier the weight upon his shoulders seemed to be. Cometes nudged his trailing hand a few times and he patted his old friend affectionately. This was no place for an animal like him. There were few places for him to run or stretch his legs and, if it did not make him feel sick inside at the very thought, Gabriel would have turned the charger out to pasture years ago. The elves had once agreed to take the Cometes in, saying that he was clearly of elvish stock, and the day was soon coming where the horse simply could not live the life Gabriel asked of him.

They crested a slight hill and he paused, staring bleakly at Whitehall Tower as it squatted on that hilltop. Nothing had changed in the seven years since he’d left. A tiny part of him had almost wished the whole thing had crumbled away into dust – he’d be far happier camping atop its ruins than facing the memories waiting inside – but he was never so lucky. Even the limp cloth standard atop the tower itself still twisted in the wind, though harsh weather had stripped it threadbare and robbed it of color. Shaking his head, he glanced at Cometes.

“We could not be so fortunate, could we?” he asked wryly. The charger glanced at him, then at the tower, and finally at the long, uneven road that led to the hilltop before heavily blowing out his breath. Gabriel smiled. “I know,” he said softly.

They reached the almost-fortress several hours before dusk, though the surrounding peaks caused the sky to darken much quicker than normal. There was no snow on the ground even this close to winter, for which he was relieved, but still, the temperature was far from comfortable. After seeing to Cometes – the charger gave him a foul look once he was done and snapped Gabriel with his tail – he paced around the empty living quarters with a lantern. Echoes of the past chased him through each of the rooms – here, he’d admonished Auqui for slacking off with his lessons, there he’d had Kira for the first time, and over there … over there, Auqui had tried very, very hard to kill him. That was the breaking point, though he did not know it at the time. Instead, he’d foolishly believed that Auqui was simply being a child when he should have been a man.

He spent the hours before the sun completely vanished from the sky cleaning up the debris that was his home. Much of it was animal waste – in his absence, it seemed that more than a few of the local creatures had used Whitehall as nests or warrens – but there was also quite a bit of old detritus from before things fell apart that needed to be discarded. He only had a few weeks of supplies, but then, he’d never intended to stay long this time. By the time he was done, Gabriel was filthy and even more exhausted than before, but he knew sleep would not come easily, not here, not while the ghosts of his past continued to lurk in the shadows.

Despite the chill breeze, he took a seat in the center of the wide training circle, hugging his cloak tight, and wondered where he went wrong.

Morning found him in the same spot, though this time, he was stripped to the waist, barefoot and holding his father’s sword in one hand. Sunlight glittered off the speckled bands of color that were the two dragon-marks crawling up his forearms, though Gabriel was so accustomed to them now that he barely noticed. He walked through the first cycle of swordforms at half speed, reminding his muscles of what he wished of them. Once he was done, he would increase the pace and repeat the cycle, and then do so again. On good mornings, he would add a fourth or even a fifth cycle.

“Why are you holding me back?” Auqui’s voice chased him from the past. Gabriel frowned. Parting the Silk became Ribbon in the Air.

“You are holding yourself back, Student,” Gabriel murmured along with his memory self. It had been a common argument in those days – the boy was insistent that there was some secret technique Gabriel was not teaching him and seemed incapable of grasping that the truth was simply rooted in his lack of patience. Repetition and practice were what was needed, but Auqui did not want to wait. “You hear my instructions but you do not listen to them.” River of Light flowed into The Rose Unfolds. That was always a tricky transition.

“What does that even mean?” Anger was in Auqui’s so clear voice, anger and frustration. He was having difficulty moving to the next level of sword-mastery, which was understandable. Few swordsmen ever managed to do so – it had taken Gabriel nearly five years to pass that threshold himself – and, no matter that he was better with a blade than most men in Caithness, the boy wanted more. Patience was something he simply refused to comprehend. That was not the whole of it, of course. There was Kira and Auqui’s infatuation with her, despite the fact that she was nearly twice his age and warming Gabriel’s bed, and though Gabriel did not know it at the time, there were also Zabka’s treacherous whispers. “You speak to me in riddles when you should be teaching me!” Auqui snarled when Gabriel tried to urge patience again. The boy had attacked then, in fury, and without even trying to explain himself. They’d dueled numerous times before, though never before had one of them been intentionally trying to harm the other.

Watered Silk met Bundling Straw. Without realizing it, Gabriel refought the battle with his erstwhile apprentice, his feet automatically falling into the same places they had so very long ago. The Branch in the Storm knocked aside The Lion Springs. Auqui had been quick, quicker than any man with a sword that Gabriel had encountered in a decade and had he not realized his student was trying very hard to kill him, he would have been much pleased with the boy’s progress. Willow Embracing the Breeze met a flawless Black Pebbles on Snow. Gabriel recalled the anger that flickered across the void of cool serenity he’d floated in and, to his continuing shame, he remembered going on the offensive, intent on showing this boy how much he still had to learn. Rain in High Wind sent Auqui stumbling backward, Ribbon in the Air nearly killed him, and Snow in High Wind left bloody tears across his chest. The boy rallied – he attacked with a perfect sequence of The Wood Grouse Dances to River of Light, but as always, his impatience led him to ruin, and Gabriel slid away before countering with Soft Rain at Sunset. Blood splashed and Auqui screamed out in surprise and pain. He fell, dropping his sword as his hands automatically went to the vicious cut upon his face. Even then, Gabriel knew the boy would carry that scar to the end of his days.

“You are not ready, boy,” he’d hissed angrily.

“You are not ready,” he repeated in a hushed whisper, seven years later.

But there was no one there to listen.

Gabriel drew a deep breath, held it for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. He returned to the initial ready stance and began anew.

*

For three days, he labored alone, alternating between hours with the sword, practicing each sword form until his muscles ached, and returning his house to something vaguely resembling order. He raked out the small stable – for which Cometes gave him a powerful snort and a tail flick that was just shy of an actual attack – swept out all of the rooms, and even patched the roofs of all three buildings, a task he frankly loathed no matter how necessary it was.

Rainald found him there, on the third day, sweating and frustrated and aching at the strange physical contortions that had been necessary to reach certain spots on the roof. The big Northerner led his ugly horse into the courtyard and had just finished removing the saddle by the time Gabriel managed to climb down from the roof.

“You look miserable, my friend,” Rainald said with his booming laugh. He offered a skin of wine and Gabriel accepted it gratefully.

“I did not know you were coming,” he remarked once he’d slaked his thirst. Rainald grinned.

“You’ve seen my home,” the Northerner said, “so I thought I would do the same.” He glanced around. “Rather remote, is it not?” he asked with a frown.

“It suits me,” Gabriel replied simply, though they both knew that was a lie. He would not be able to stay here for very long. The wanderlust would kick in once more.

“You missed a runner from Wallace when you left,” Rainald said. He fumbled through his saddlebags for a folded parchment bearing the seal of Wallace and handed it over without bothering to look at it. Frowning, Gabriel studied it for a moment before glancing up. “Lord Malcolm’s wife calls for us,” the Northerner said. “I told the messenger boy that I would track you down and bring you with me.”

“You are confident of your skills, old friend,” Gabriel said with a wry smile as he tore open the parchment and scanned the contents. So, Malcolm needed help again. Was there no end to his foolery?

“You dance well enough, but one mighty blow …” Rainald make a noise as he drew his thumb across his neck. Gabriel shook his head and folded the missive up once more.

“To Wallace it is,” he murmured. It was just as well – the ghosts here were far from silent.

Dramatis Personæ

Brother Mendel (Herodian)
Dane Sardock (Winston)
Gabriel Auditore (Rigil Kent)
Gestlin the Unpredictable (CommJunkee)
Magnifico the Clown (Feste)
Rainald North-Hammer (Gigermann)


bs-ferrier

Of Robbers and Businessmen

29 Mar 2014

Magnifico demanded the one captive taken from the fight at the Ferrier bridge give up his employer; being in no condition to fight back or escape, the brigand told the Heroes of “The Seven,” a local robber-gang that operates out of the city. Shortly thereafter, the city watch finally showed up to collect the dead, wounded and incarcerated. Upon the Heroes’ inquiry, the guard-sergeant admitted that the watch here was woefully short-handed and powerless to do anything about the gang’s activities; they controlled several areas in town, one of interest being a tavern down the street a bit. After a brief discussion, the Heroes determined that they should do what they could to stamp out this menace, such that it would trouble the good people of Caithness (themselves, in particular) no more, and made their way over to the indicated tavern to “kick the hornets’ nest” and see what might come out. On the building’s eaves, they spotted a “7” scratched into the wood, and deduced they’d arrived at the right place. Radskyrta stayed outside with Gestlin’s wagon, the horses and the dragons, while the rest dismounted.

Ext. Karlstadt Tavern street set

A couple of ne’er-do-wells loitered outside the door, one of whom asked after the price of one of the dragons; Magnifico insisted they were not for sale at any price, and insulted the man when he continued to press, in disregard of Magnifico’s very serious, and final answer. Then the party pushed past and entered the establishment.

The tavern was packed with patrons—probably half the town’s population—with a number of topless female employees making their way from table to table in search of coin, by one means or another. Dane found an empty chair near a table, while the rest squeezed in at the bar. Magnifico loudly announced their presence to all present, but for lack of anything further to announce, the denizens quickly lost interest in the brightly arrayed, hunchbacked old man. The Heroes ordered drinks, and as they sipped, they scanned the crowd for seedy characters that might have taken notice of their presence, or their purses. One of the wenches identified Gestlin as a potential mark, and sidled up to him to work her magic, flustering him greatly. Magnifico “rescued” him with a song of Enthrallment, and the woman clung to him instead; he began to hint to her at his desire to speak with “The Boss,” offering what would turn out to be too little coin for the information, and she moved on to looser purses elsewhere. The Clown then turned to the bartender toward the same purpose, quoting a line from a famous play. With no knowledge of that play, thus without the proper context, the bartender took it the wrong way (or the right way, really); smiling, he offered the Heroes another round of drinks on the house. After having drunk the second round, Rainald, Gestlin and Magnifico passed out in place, poisoned; Brother Mendel and Gabriel were still nursing their first cup, and Dane wasn’t at the bar to be served the second, so they alone remained conscious, to see the half-dozen or so sword-armed thugs make their way through the crowd toward them. In a flash, Gabriel drew his rapier and assumed a fighting stance, as the bartender demanded the surrender of their weapons on their sleeping friends’ lives, and commanded his men to bar the door. The crowd continued their revelry as if this were a common sight at this establishment. Gabriel was still indignant at the earlier ambush, and seeing his fellows poisoned so, quickly regarded the enemy forces; they were not a match even for the three of them, and after confirming the others’ readiness by subtle nod, declined the bartender’s demand with a flash of steel.

bs-6_2_fight1

Two thugs charged Gabriel, who danced ’round them, killing one. Two thugs charged Brother Mendel and stabbed him twice; he fell seated, back against the bar. One thug found Dane at his table, and managed to cut him down as he fumbled for his bow. One thug charged over to Gestlin and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head back to slit his throat; out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel spotted Gestlin’s impending doom, and quick-drawing his magical elven throwing-blade, flung it at the would-be murderer, striking him deep between the fourth and fifth ribs. Brother Mendel’s attackers both had him at sword-point, so he feigned compliance; eschewing obvious casting movements or words, he magically healed himself, then Dane, and looked to the others. Dane recovered and drew his shortsword, and after a brief exchange, slashed his attacker near-fatally, as a few more armed thugs pressed through the crowd to join the fray. Gabriel felled another while slipping over to finish off Gestlin’s would-be murderer as he reached for his dropped weapon, then turned to meet two of the newcomers. The bartender, who had not raised a hand thus far, produced a loaded hand-crossbow, and again demanded Gabriel surrender, or Brother Mendel would die. Gabriel glanced back at Mendel, who despite the two sword-points at his chest signaled that he had his situation sorted; again Gabriel refused the bartender’s demand, contorting his body out of the path of the bartender’s crossbow bolt as he turned his blade on the other thugs. As Brother Mendel’s attackers moved on their leader’s command, he Commanded one of his attackers to drop his weapon and swatted the other’s sword away with his quarterstaff, before blasting him in the chest with a Sunbolt, burning him near-through and setting his clothing ablaze. bs-6_2_fight2Meanwhile, Dane exchanged with another foe interposed between himself and his endangered fellows, and was struck again, driven back. At the same time, Gabriel had his two new opponents bleeding and on their backs when the bartender finally screamed, “Enough!” and called out to his men to stand down. As the thugs that were still able backed away at their leader’s command, Gabriel and Dane relaxed a bit, and started to collect their sleeping comrades to leave. Brother Mendel however had not taken the inhospitality well, and darted around the open end of the bar, saying, “God will forgive you. But I will not!” before blasting the bartender with a Sunbolt to the chest, setting him afire like a screaming, flailing man-torch.

The thugs made no attempt at retaliation; the unconscious Rainald, Gestlin and Magnifico were dragged out of the tavern by their fellows, and heaved into Gestlin’s wagon. Still defiant, Brother Mendel used a Scribe spell to deface the “7” on the eaves. Fearing further attempts on their lives if they were to remain in town, they decided instead to immediately leave town, and camp down the road—were they not on a mission, they might have loitered nearby and finished the job more thoroughly. At camp an hour later, Rainald came to. The others took a bit more effort, both being of lesser constitution; Mendel spent some hours to perform a weave to rid them of the poison. By the time they returned to their travels in the morning, all were healed and refreshed.

bs-simonton

6 Apr 2014

bs-alistaircraw

After another week on the road, the Heroes arrived at Simonton, and approached the gates openly, remembering their past exploits in the walled city’s defense from the Vasar advance. At the gate, they saw the memorial statue of Dane watching over the road to the West, and all marveled at what it must be like to have their own town where they were the hero-of-legend. Dane, however, had no interest in the trappings of fame, though he immediately found them thrust upon him as the townsfolk reacted to his presence with excitement, thronging him. A sergeant-of-the-guard, eager to meet the Hero of Simonton, led them to the manor of Alistare Cray, wealthy merchant father of Lady Justalyn, father-in-law of Lord Wallace.

Master Cray welcomed the Heroes at his gate, having received word by Lady Justalyn’s messenger some days ago to arrange for their voyage to find Lord Wallace, though he was very surprised to see a pair of dragons with them. After some deliberation, they all decided to house Primus and Secundus at one of his warehouses at the city’s docks. Afterward, when the Heroes had time to refresh after their long journey, Master Cray returned to see to the Heroes’ needs for the mission ahead. They asked about all the particulars of Lord Wallace’s disappearance, what was known and unknown, and what preparations had been made. Master Cray appeared forthright and open, and gave them all the information he had; he had arranged for Lord Wallace and his Master-of-Coin to travel by ship to Yibyorak a year ago, and had received no word from his contacts there that Lord Wallace had ever arrived; there were a number of places along the journey known for pirate activity, though they usually went only after cargo, tending to let the ships go without further molestation; he had a ship, the Gleaming Endeavor, prepared for the Heroes a couple of days ago, able to take on Gestlin’s wagon and their horses, with no further cargo to be carried save for provisions for the journey, which was expected to take around a month—it was ready to go as soon as they wanted to leave. After some discussion, it was unanimously agreed that they would get right to it, staying the night in Simonton and embarking first thing in the morning.


Notes

  • Lesson Learned: When you kick the hornets’ nest, have a plan, and don’t try to be too clever 😛
  • When Magnifico turned his attention to the bartender, he ended up rolling a Critical Failure on Streetwise
  • When the swords came out, those that were still standing evaluated the situation; the enemy were not armored, and had no shields, and Gabriel figured he could take (enough of) them, but it would be a gamble, especially if the dice decided not to cooperate—could easily have been a TPK, and we very nearly lost Gestlin on his second session, if not for a very lucky, perfect throw by Gabriel
  • The enemy of the previous runs of this campaign were aliens from another world, and used a “new” magic referred to as “weaving” (due to the somatic motions of those using it), represented by Ritual Path Magic; in the course of things, Brother Mendel learned how to do it, though he’s no expert at it
  • Between the time the Heroes returned from the Otherworld and went back to it on Crusade (outside the game), they fought in several sieges against the Vasar, mostly losing ground the whole way; Simonton was such a siege, and the city was ultimately lost, though the Heroes’ efforts, with Dane as general, resulted in much of the population’s escape to the South
  • Magnifico’s dragons, Primus and Secundus, were taken after their mother and father were slain by the Heroes in the Otherworld—these dragons are not native to Yrth—and raised by Magnifico over the last ten years. In the previous run, they were small and mostly just a curiosity, but now they’re big enough that traveling with them is proving…complicated

He walked from the inn, leaving behind dead or dying men, and did not look back. Those who survived would long remember the man with the dragon-marks upon his arms.

fantasy_art_scenery_wallpaper_sergey_musin_01

Five Years Ago.

Cold air froze his very breath.

Each step was a chore, a minor agony that required absolute concentration lest his steps find slick ice frozen over by the incessant snow and sleet that fell from the dark sky. Wind battered at him, trying very hard to push him from the narrow steps carved into the wall. At any other time, Gabriel might have considered pausing to admire the strange architecture – there was nothing else like it in all of Megalos, though if rumor spoke true, this … Fortress of Tears had been wrought by men not of Megalos many, many years ago.

The freezing rain had long since cooled his rage to a dull simmer – it was so very hard to hate a man he could not find or see when the elements hurled ice and snow at him nonstop – but it was not completely gone. He doubted it would ever be gone, even when he finally located that bastard Zabka and sent him screaming to hell. Still, Gabriel was thankful for this climb as it reminded him of a teaching he’d long since forgotten: rage was best managed when cold. The heat of passion was dangerous, deadly, foolish…

He staggered up the steps, gripping his cloak tight with his left hand while his right was wrapped around the hilt of his sheathed sword so tightly that it felt frozen solid. Up and up he went, fighting against God’s wrath and hating Him the entire time. Where was the merciful savior that Mendel had often spoke of? Where was the Lamb who brought peace to all of mankind as was promised? All Gabriel had seen in his life was betrayal and hate, death and murder and blood. God was not merciful, it seemed, but rather malicious, cruel and petty. A tyrant in Heaven who stared down upon his work with contempt.

The steps ended abruptly before a massive set of double wooden doors that bore the elaborate sigils Gabriel recognized from the gauntlets bequeathed upon him by Master Gaius in the hours before sickness finally took the man. Gabriel had promised to seek out the other masters, to prove himself in their eyes and earn the dragon mark that was his by skill at arms, but there had not been the time after the war ended. Auqui’s training was too important, and then there was Kira and her laughing eyes which drew him in, and his duties to Wallace, and so very many excuses …

With barely a sound, the doors opened upon his touch and Gabriel stepped through over the threshold, grimacing at the wall of heat that slammed into him like a physical force. He suddenly felt every ache in his body, every strain, every cut or slice or bruise. And dear God, he was tired. Nine days had passed since he set out on this fool’s expedition, nine days of bitterly cold snow and only an irritated warhorse for company. Cometes was still below, cut loose to wander in the valley that this fortress overlooked, and Gabriel had no doubts that the charger would likely be more fortunate than he in terms of survival.

“You come bearing the gauntlets of one of our brothers,” a voice announced. The speaker glided forward, dark eyes over a well-trimmed beard shot through with gray, but Gabriel could see the grace in the man’s step. A sheathed sword was at the man’s side, though the cloak hanging from the master’s shoulders concealed much of it from sight. “How did you come by them?”

“Master Gaius bequeathed them to me,” Gabriel said through clenched teeth. His body trembled with fatigue and cold, but he pushed them both away, concentrated on the teachings of his father. There was a flame in his mind and he pushed everything – fear, anger, exhaustion, rage, hunger – into that tiny fire. All that was left was him. “In the Otherland, the Huallapan world where we waged bloody constraint,” he continued. He was aware of how his body still shook and shivered, but right now, none of that mattered.

“He died, then.” The master glanced to one of the many shadows moving around him – they were other men, Gabriel realized, though dressed in cloaks that drank in darkness – and scowled. “I remember him. I would have thought him better than to have fallen thus.”

“He died of plague,” Gabriel said. “No weapon could touch him so the god of death sent disease.”

“And now you come to us.” The master studied him but gave no sign of what he thought. “Much time has passed since that war yet you choose now to seek us out, Gabriel of House Auditore.” He nodded when Gabriel tensed. “Yes, we know of you. We have eyes who watch those who might prove worthy of the dragon mark.”

“If you’ve watched me,” Gabriel replied flatly, “then you know why I have not come before.”

“We do.” The master paused, then in a smooth, practiced motion, drew his sword. It was a long blade, with only a single edge and slightly curved. Memory tickled his mind – the elves bore swords much like this and he recalled wearing a body once that used such a blade – but his instincts had already taken over. His own blade whispered free of its scabbard. “I see you are not entirely incapable,” the master said with a very slight nod. He glided forward.

And they began to dance.

At first, Gabriel stayed defensive – The Falling Leaf turned aside Lightning of Three Prongs, The Branch in the Storm deflected Arc of the Moon – but still, the old man came. Familiar steps brought his muscles back to life and Gabriel went on the offensive, suddenly wanting this mummer’s farce to be done with. Courtier Taps His Fan turned into Bundling Straw. Attacking a would-be student at the threshold? Parting the Silk blocked Plucking the Low-Hanging Apple. Where was the logic in this? Cutting the Wind flowed into Kissing the Adder.

“Enough!” A new voice caused them both to pause and another man with cold eyes and silver hair appeared, throwing back his hood of shadow as she stepped forward. “He nearly killed you, Marcus.”

“He came close with that last strike, yes.” The first man had backed away out of striking distance and was eyeing Gabriel with a bit more respect. “The blade is smaller than I am accustomed to but faster. I did not think the forms could so easily be adapted to a rapier.”

“I’ve had plenty of practice,” Gabriel replied carefully. At no time did he relax his guard and the two old men studied him for a moment longer before nodding their approval.

“We shall test you, then,” the second man said.

*

Calling them tests was not the correct word..

The following day, after Gabriel had been granted permission to sleep and eat and recover from the nightmare climb, he faced another of the students with live blades in hand. They were stripped to the waist and he had to reacquaint himself with the lack of weight riding on his shoulders without the elven corselet he’d worn for so many years now. To his surprise, the apprentice came at him with blood in his eyes, so intent on killing him that Gabriel had automatically fallen into old habits, and in seconds, the boy was at his feet, a yard of steel thrust through his heart. Gabriel tried to stauch the bleeding, tried to save the poor fool’s life, but the strike had been too perfectly placed and he could do nothing but watch as the lad sank into oblivion.

None of the masters seemed to care.

The cold rage that swam in his belly began warming up once more as Gabriel found himself pitted against more would-be blademasters, each lethal in their own right and each as solely intent on his death as he was in not giving it to them. He faced them in ones and twos, earning new scars as the better trained of them came closer and closer to leaving him bloody on the ground. The venue also changed – there was the Room of Whispers, which was so loud that one had to rely on senses other than hearing to survive, and the Vault of Fire, where steam from underground baths reduced visibility to non-existent. The Nine Sisters was an arena with ten different kinds of traps and snares – why it was the Nine Sisters, Gabriel never learned – and there, he found himself in the midst of a grand melee with twenty other warriors. Most did not survive the traps, and the handful of ones that did were especially lethal, but Gabriel emerged victorious.

And still, his anger grew.

He could not understand the wisdom in such tests. Each of these warriors were capable in their own ways, skilled and brave and deadly, yet these masters hurled them at each other as if they were toys or gladiators. There was no training being done here! It was only madness. Madness and death. By the end of the second week, Gabriel had lost count of how many men he had seen die, most on the tip of his sword, and when he interacted with the masters, he made no attempt to hide his contempt for them.

“You are well skilled,” the first master told him as the third week began.

“Because I had training,” Gabriel replied in a voice so cold it could freeze fire. He realized that he hated this man, hated him and all of his brothers who played at being masters when in fact, they were simply murderers who wielded weapons of flesh and bone. His fury must have been written on his face because the master gave him an ugly smile.

“You think us monsters for how we teach,” he guessed.

“You’re not teaching,” Gabriel said in response. “And I am done with this madness,” he hissed.

“There is but one challenge remaining,” the old man said as Gabriel began to turn. “You must best an actual dragon mark.”

“You,” Gabriel said automatically. He narrowed his eyes. “I would face you.”

“And you will die,” the master said. He was smiling, though, and an eager, malicious light burned in his eyes. “The House of Sorrows,” he said. “One hour.”

*

The House of Sorrows was as sorely misnamed as the other locations in the fortress. There was no actual ‘house’ involved that Gabriel could see. Instead, it was simply an open platform jutting out from the fortress like a wide lip exposed to the elements. The surface was slick with snow and ice, though some parts of the stone hummed with unseen heat, never freezing even in the coldest of nights. There was only one way to leave, a narrow stairway that led straight down to the valley below.

When the master stepped onto the platform, Gabriel was unsurprised to see the man wearing a light mail hauberk that left his arms free. Wind caught his fur-lined cloak and it flared out, revealing that the older man wore thick boots and pants. He smiled and nodded his approval.

Because Gabriel had donned his own armor.

They exchanged no pleasantries beyond that single nod, instead baring steel and beginning their final dance. The old man struck hard and fast – Two Hares Leaping – but Gabriel was already sliding away, his own counterattack – Watered Silk – nearly taking his foe’s head. They exchanged a handful of strikes and counterstrikes, dancing back and forth over the ice and heated snow. Gabriel sank deeper into concentration. The Falling Leaf became The River Undercuts the Bank. The Kingfisher Circles the Pond batted away Arc of the Moon. Black Pebbles on Snow send ringlets of armor flying into the snow. The old master’s amused and contemptuous expression vanished, only to be replaced by one of fury and of intense concentration. Blood flew.

And still, they danced.

Finally, Gabriel saw it. His opponent was at least as fast as he was and had a hand or so more reach with that straight sword, but each of his forms was … in a word, they were too perfect. There was no spontaneity in his motions, no variation whatsoever. This man had practiced his forms so often that they had become rote, static, unyielding. Mentally, Gabriel nodded.

In mid-strike, he shifted his attack. The Boar Rushes Downhill abruptly became a reverse form of The Hummingbird Kisses the Honeyrose, flickering up to carve a blood furrow across the old man’s face. The master grimaced, almost but not quite staggering back, and Gabriel caught his riposte with a one-handed parry – The Grapevine Twines – while his other hand, his free hand, flashed for the elven dagger sheathed at the small of his back. The motion was never intended to be more than a distraction and it worked marvelously – the old master’s eyes shifted slightly and his weight shifted, as he prepared to defend against a thrown weapon that was never going to come. The Mongoose Takes a Viper came from his blind side. Gabriel felt his father’s sword punch through the hauberk and pierce vital organs.

With a gasp, the master stumbled. His sword fell from nerveless fingers and he had just enough time to look up as Gabriel flowed into The Thistledown Floats on the Whirlwind. The spinning strike sliced through the man’s neck and a geyser of blood gushed out.

“Memento mori,” Gabriel whispered as the master tried desperately to stem the crimson flood. Their eyes met.

A moment later, the older man was gone.

Gabriel knelt quietly in the snow, his sword still gripped lightly and ready for action should an ambush occur. He watched as the man died, making sure that no one came out to save his life. When he was satisfied that the old monster was gone, he started to rise.

And it was then that the man’s blood moved.

It flowed like quicksilver, crawling across the snow to merge together into a steaming pool of red. Gabriel blinked in surprise before flicking his father’s sword to rid it of the tiny droplets that clung tenaciously to the steel. He felt something on his arm and glanced up, noting in shock that the dead man’s blood had crawled down the length of the sword. It easily seeped through his glove, and then sank onto his flesh, burning like acid. Pain screamed through his arm, agony unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and he overbalanced, his free hand landing squarely in the snow as he tried to keep from falling over. Too late, he realized how close his hand was to the pool.

It was like the flesh under the skin of his arms had caught on fire. He couldn’t smell anything burning, but the pain … dear God, the pain! A scream began building in his throat but the agony pulsing from his arms was so intense his entire body seized up. He felt his body hit the wet snow as his muscles twitched and spasmed. Breathing was impossible.

When the pain passed, he opened his eyes and stared at the overcast sky that was once more spitting snow at him. His flesh felt too tight, too constrained, and he lifted both arms up, nothing instantly the unmistakable dragon marks. They glittered brightly underneath his skin – the red wasn’t tattoos, he realized with horror – but apart from that, he felt no different. Pushing himself to his feet, he gave the corpse one last glance before looking up. The other masters were watching through the windows of the fortress, their hoods thrown and their marked arms held aloft. Despite the great distance, Gabriel could tell that they approve. He gave them all a disgusted glower before sliding his toe underneath the rapier and flipping it up so he could catch it. Without a word, he walked toward the narrow staircase leading down.

He never looked back.