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Post by Aguila Saber on Jun 23, 2008 15:48:18 GMT -5
Westhaven, Lencia
“Can you take a look at it, Tinto? Compare it with this,” Aguila says and hands over the rings they acquired from Bolo.
Tinto takes a look at the new paper and compares the seals with the ones in Bolo’s rings. After a minute he says. “They look identical. If we are to assume that this guild of rascals carries identical rings, then I think it will certainly be accepted,” Tinto says looking at Aguila and then shifts his gaze to the woman.
“Can you sign it Tinto,” Aguila says. “I think you said having some expertise in how to do it?”
“Of course,” Tinto says. “I have what’s needed with me.”
“Wouldn’t Kujo denounce this as a forgery?” the woman says.
“Kujo had a hard fall and hit his head in the street. He may be slightly unsure about what happened here if pressed. Besides, you have the signed and sealed original. I take it the shark is an underling?”
“The shark?”
“Kujo. The Telchos call people like him sharks.”
The woman nods.
“Can you tell us a bit more about him and how long they’ve been here extorting money from you?”
“I know little of them. They always come to visit un-announced. They’ve been here for about two years that I know of.”
“What happens to those who don’t pay?”
“They told me that my shop would be burnt and then proceeded to name other places that had been torched by his friends. At first there were several of them coming to visit now it’s usually just Kujo or Bago, as they call themselves,” the woman says.
“I take it the authorities are unable to help against them?” Tinto asks.
“Yes, alas. Much of the authorities and men-folk are engaged in the King’s crusades in the North,” the woman replies sadly. “Normally, loose folk like them would not be accepted here, but now they have become rich.”
“There,” Tinto says. “I think this will be accepted as genuine. They look identical to me.”
“How should I explain getting the money?” the woman says.
“Couldn’t you say that you sold a couple of your expensive dresses?” Aguila suggests.
“Good idea. Just write out a note for the cost and I’ll sign it.”
“Very well. Did you have anything particular in mind?”
*_* Later in the evening *_*
Aguila and Tinto take supper in the inn and then retire for the evening in their room preferring to keep a low profile for a few hours after the events in the shop. After a while Tinto places the black and red dress they saw in the shop window before Aguila.
“How about you try this on Aguila and pose for a painting?”
Aguila doesn’t think this is an idea. “How about you writing down the contents of the documents I gave you?”
“I could remember it if I saw you in that red dress,” Tinto suggests.
Aguila moans. “What did you say to the clerk downstairs before, anyway?
“I promised her a painting of you,” Tinto says.
“You did WHAT?”
“I do not have the cash to spare for this room Aguila. Remember that I make my living as an artist,” Tinto says.
After a while Aguila reconsiders. After all, it is a very nice dress.
To be continued.
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Post by Simey on Jun 24, 2008 4:43:20 GMT -5
The heavy rain had passed quickly, soon being replaced by a light drizzle, but the breeze had then all but died away and a mist had descended, turning what had earlier been a very pleasant day grey, damp and chilly.
Armadalus had not had time to properly construct a shelter before the rain had started, so he and Simey had avoided very little of the downpour and at its passing had decided to move on rather than continue to sit in cold, soggy silence.
It had taken Simey some time to realise that the chill he felt was not entirely due to the drop in temperature that had accompanied the rain, but that there was also something about the wood through which they were trekking that he found somewhat unnerving. He had been in the midst of deciding quite deliberately that his imagination was getting the better of him when Armadalus had stopped, peering with suspicious eyes through the trees towards a small clearing. Simey's nervous enquiries as to what was wrong had been brushed off, but his instinctive discomfiture at his surroundings had found a new foundation and it was with frequent, nervous glances over his shoulders that he had continued to follow Armadalus through the wood.
Their progress had since been slow and uneasy, and Simey couldn't help but think that Armadalus was not only actively avoiding discussing with him something that he sensed about the wood, but also deliberately taking them away from something that he thought was there.
It was somewhat surprising, therefore, when the Sommlending suddenly stopped and turned round to look back the way they had come.
________
Somewhere near Eshnar
"Hail!" called the green-clad figure who had apparently been following them.
Simey peered through the trees and frowned; the approaching man looked oddly familiar and yet Simey couldn't place him at all. The uncomfortable feeling of pressure in his mind returned once again and he forced himself not to consider the origins of his recognition.
"Hail!" called Armadalus after a few moments, the friendly tone of his greeting tainted by disquiet. Simey glanced at the Sommlending and could tell that the man was not completely unknown to him either.
"Lord Armadalus, Lord Vojske! It is indeed good to see you again!" said the man enthusiastically as he made his way up to them. Simey's eyes again flicked uncertainly to Armadalus to see if the man's knowledge of their names was as much of a surprise to him.
"Master Wise Fox," said Armadalus slowly, experimentally. It looked to Simey like he was going to say more, but he didn't.
"Yes," said the man hesitantly, obviously affected by the unsettled welcome. Then, with a deliberate injection of enthusiasm, he continued, "I am very glad to see two familiar faces in the midst of all this strangeness. Have you seen any of the others? Do you know what happened?"
"No, we don't," said Armadalus. "And we haven't."
Again Simey felt that the Sommlending was holding back from saying more, but, having no idea what his companion and the newcomer were talking about, he could not hold back himself from asking his own, somewhat incredulous, questions. "What do you mean 'what happened'? And what 'others' are you talking about?"
Armadalus drew a tense-sounding breath and the man apparently called 'Master Wise Fox' looked at Simey disbelievingly. Ignoring the lack of an immediate response, Simey went after the answer he wanted most. "And how do you two know each other?"
Yet again the sensation that Armadalus had something to say, but was forcing himself not to speak. Master Wise Fox, however, did respond with but one word, spoken with a suddenly haunted tone and expression.
"Eshnar."
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Post by Aguila Saber on Jun 24, 2008 16:51:27 GMT -5
Westhaven, Lencia, The Nightmare
During the night Aguila notices that Tinto has difficulties to sleep and is continually turning this way or that. She hears him speak in his sleep, his voice taking on several different tones. Fearful, pleading, conversational, emotional and more. Her ears pricks up when she overhears her name mentioned. She would rather leave Tinto to his sleep but there is no place to go. Their lodging is one large room and so she’s forced to listen.
After a while the things Aguila overhears causes her to rise and put on some clothes and wait by his bed. This seems to her to be a night mare and not like any she has seen before. She notices that Tinto looks pale and is sweating profusely, before he turns over and speaks about doom and spirits. He tries to shield himself from some imaginary enemy by pulling up his arms, and then tosses again in the bed.
Suddenly Tinto is awake and looking up at her with fearful eyes, breathing in long deep breaths.
“Aguila?! What are you … doing here?”
“It would seem you had a nightmare. Care to tell me about it?”
Tinto pales and looks unsure. “Did I mention you?”
“A few times, yes. How long have you had these nightmares?”
Tinto pales looking absently before him, perhaps half-expecting Aguila to leave, but when she doesn’t he replies. “A few days.”
“And before that?”
Tinto shakes his head.
“Do you … know what it is about?”
“Not really. But I do remember the … dreams as such.”
“You feel like telling me about the dream?”
Tinto is quiet for a while. Aguila notices that colour has returned to his face and he is breathing normally again.
“I guess. You promise to remain as my body guard?”
Aguila nods. “For the time being I think that would be wise.”
“Well. First I see a pond. I can see ghosts there, and you were there too. They talked to me. I was scared, but ….” Tinto eyes roam the room. “It was fine. Then there is a meadow. It looked fine, but … it is a horrible place. Wicked spirits linger there. There was a battle there not too long ago.” Aguila notices Tinto’s eye widen. “Evil spirits linger there. They attacked, and we fled… and fled … but there was no escape for me.”
“Did you recognize the places?”
Tinto shakes his head.
“The spirits?”
“No, I never heard them before. I got an impression that they were servants of the Dark God, perhaps they were part of a Darklord army.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Some of the spirits took on the guises of Giaks and their flying beasts.”
Aguila nods. She notices that Tinto has taken hold of her hand resting on the bed and is holding it tightly. She decides not to say anything about it. “Go on.”
“Finally there is a castle. It is beautifully placed and it was … wonderful. We went there but …. it was haunted.,” Tinto says and gulps. “I’d rather not go into details.”
“Did you recognize the castle,” Aguila asks.
“It looked to be of Lencian design,” Tinto says.
Noticing that Tinto becomes paler and looks more frightful Aguila clutches his hand tighter. “Seems we should prepare for this while in Westhaven. Is there a temple of Ishir here?”
“A temple? Yes, I’d think so,” Tinto says.
“Then let’s go there tomorrow, shall we?” Aguila says.
“Of course,” Tinto tries to smile back.
They talk for a while longer, then Aguila returns to her bed pondering the significance of Tinto’s nightmare. It would seem that she is going to work hard to earn her pay as body guard after all, with that thought Aguila returns to sleep wondering about a great many things.
To be continued.
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Post by Beowuuf on Jun 25, 2008 0:52:42 GMT -5
Five days out going to Maaken, under attack
"You know him," said Tamas in a dead tone of statement to Beowuuf. Beowuuf was almost glad Tamas had stopped play-acting friendship.
"Of course", said Beowuuf, ignoring the feeling this situation was spiralling out of control, "you know him too, I told you about him long enough - may I present Alder Kollosco, traitor to crew, kin, friends and of course myself, the most trustworthy backstabber I have ever met. He is also very misunderstood."
Kollosco bowed at being addressed, ignoring the tone and smiling almost warmly. "And I find it immensely gratifying if amazing that you told the truth Beowuuf, and are now so deeply in the loving embrace of your fellows."
There was something in the tone beyond the normal gruffness, and it was wrong. Unless his companions' body language was that explicit, how would Kollosco know Beowuuf was mistrusted before Kollosco's initial words, and so have the almost mocking tone to his speech? "A liar always finds it hard to trust another's words, is that not true?" said Beowuuf instead.
The two more men, the ones Beowuuf recognise from both his voyage to the Darklands and from Azgard, followed their leader as the Zlanbeasts were pushed lower towards the ground. The sterner faced of the two took his hood down, and looked with disdain. "Let us end this," the man Beowuuf remembered as Arbo said.
"Indeed - but not in the way you mean!" said Kollosco, holding Arbo back as the man disintergrated a reckless arrow and almost turned a firebolt onto the archer. Kollosco waved a calming hand to Arbo, and turned back to Beowuuf and the rest. For his part Colt and Torfan calmed their troops, glaring at them to pick their moments more appropriately.
"This situation is...tense...and we needs must ensure this state of affairs does not continue for any longer than it has to." Kollosco looked down at the giggling Nadziran. "Release our companion," Kollosco had to look down at the Nadziran for a moment, then shrugged that this was indeed a true statement. "and we will see if we cannot reach some mutually satisfactory conclusion."
Beowuuf glared, but as he feared the three mages were obvously capable of protecting themselves, with their Zlanbeast mounts then able to move out of the way of sheer press of bodies to rain destruction from higher up. Beowuuf mentally cursed again that three Vakeros warriors and an Elder Magi were so reduced as to find this an impossible fight.
Apparently, Lord Gralmis reluctantly reached the same conclusion. Tamas perhaps spotted the shift. "No," he said silently, but Gralmis ignored him. Tamas turned to look at the other leaders, but Beowuuf already knew they would be shifting uncomfortably but agreeing to the situation. Beowuuf also knew Torfan and Colt would be clutching their weapons tighter preparing for one last combat just as he was.
The Madziran Namanas still giggled even after Lord Gralmis relented his psychic assault, with the reluctance of a sleeper engaged in a good dream he finally came back and stood up. He even gave a flourished bow to Lord Gralmis, and Beowuuf's hair prickled and skin crawled when he saw Namanas caressing his own long nails and looking towards Lord Gralmis's head even as he reclaimed his Zlanbeast and battered the creature back into the air.
"There, that is so much more amicable," said Kollosco, bowing too. "Now, where were we?"
"You were explaining why you suddenly trust my words," said Beowuuf. His grip on his weapon was tighter still, feeling the potential in the air. He slowly allowed himself to loosen it.
"Oh, but you see while you have made yourself some new friends and re-acquantted yourself with old ones, I have a friend too now...one who has told me all about you and your mission..."
And it was that simple. For all his suspicions, Beowuuf had not believed it until he flicked his gaze across at Jorat without thought and found the man had immedietely flicked his gaze with an odd quick look to Beowuuf.
Jorat reacted quickly to cover himself, withdrawing a weapon and moving forward. "Tell us the name of the traitor!" he said, glaring daggers at Beowuuf and looking for support with the others.
And Kollosco gave him a look. Beowuuf now not only believed Jorat's guilt, he suddenly believed Kollosco's words earlier. Beowuuf had always been suspicious of the mage's claims to belong to a secret Brotherhood, the Brotherhood of the Descending Night who practised both Left- and Right-handed magics. Not the combination of the magics, that was believeable, but the claim that to keep the brotherhood together, one that dealt in such dark magics, no member would ever lie to anyone, no matter the situation.
However Kollosco reacted with such wide eyed surprise and consternation at the question. Had this been part of a stagged deception? Had Jorat simply phrased the question badly? Arbo and the other man, Tamerus, seemed to shift as if spotting the danger.
"We are leaving," said Arbo strongly, imitating Kollosco's earlier commanding tone. Kollosco seemed to break out of his shock and simply smiled. "We shall discuss it later, I promise you," Kollosco said. Namanas seemed surprised, but moved with the others as they took to the air.
"We are just letting them leave?" asked Colt incredulously.
"You cannot 'let' us so a thing," said Kollosco, then bowed to Beowuuf, "While it would have been interesting to seek your company sooner, we shall see you in Maaken - we cannot start without you." With that, the group was in air the air and gone as soon as it had arrived.
"Well, that was certainly interesing fer us," said Prince Torfan finally dropping the Bor Rifle from his shoulder, and with a few casual spins offering it back to the pug-faced Wyte.
"What was that about?" asked Tamas, surprised and confused. Lord Gralmis shared the sentiment apparently, but only shared it with Prince Torfan and Colt when he wearily looked over and shrugged inperceptibly.
Tamas noticed the look, while Beowuuf missed it - but that was because only Beowuuf and Jorat seemed to have some small certain countenance as they shot quick looks to each other again.
"Welcome to my life," said Beowuuf to the group, "I have no idea either - but apparently someone does. I think we need to be ready."
Six days out going to Maaken
There were many things that did not surprise Beowuuf.
The fact that, even though his story was apparently confirmed by the appearance of Kollosco, the ease with which they had spoken and the appearance of the man himself was not well regarded.
That the group leadership was now thrown into concern for the continuance of the mission was also forseeable. Who would wish to go towrds a place that a wolf creature had told them to go to, when the enemy was not only expecting you but told you that you were waiting for them. Even if it was demed necessary to contront the enemy, there would be pause to consider the best means of attack.
It was also no surprise that immediately Jorat rushed into discussion with Lord Gralmis, earnestly stating something, Something that, of course, involved no small amount of sidelong looks across at Beowuuf.
While having his suspicions confirmed was gratifying, it also deadened Beowuuf. In a way, he had not wished to believe it of Jorat, wished to be proved wrong. The man had prided himself on his mental fortitude. Of all the group that had been captured, Jorat had always been the most loyal to Gralmis, his first student. Of course, Jorat had also been filled with pride, and there had been a healthy rivalry between Tamas and Jorat to begin with. Perhaps his tourtures in Kaag had simply stripped Jorat of recent memory and allowed old wounds and resentments to fester. Who knew.
No, there were only two things that surprised Beowuuf about this whole mess. He was comforting - the final consnsus of the group was to not only continue to Maaken, but move swiftly to spring whatever trap lay there early. That meant a forced prolonged march. It was an unexpected relief to Beowuuf. That meant the burning urgency that BEowuuf still felt at finding Dark Walker was finally being addressed. It also meant less time for thinking, sleeping, and being with this group - all three Beowuuf would currently welcome the removal of just now.
For the second thing that had surprised Beowuuf had been quite large.
"I do not want to know what Jorat has said to you," Beowuuf had quickly warned Gralmis as the wolf caught the mage earler, "and I do not care. You did not see the look he gave me when Kollosco almost betrayed his identify, abd you did not know the significance because I did not tell you. The Brotherhood of the Descending Noght, according to themslves, so I did not believe it, do no-"
"Lie, I know Beowuuf," said Lord Gralmis holding up his hand and interrupting. "I scanned your mind when you spoke your story, there were certain surface thoughts you did not voice."
Beowuuf paused, looking at the magi. "You scanned my thoughts, and yet-"
Again the hand. "Beowuuf, surface thoughts are all I could scan, and they are very easy to fake. Planting the information the that our enemy could not lie in our minds could have been-"
"Another trick. Just like trying to implicate Jorat in Toth's murder you mean?" said Beowuuf aggressively.
LOrd Gralmis however gave Beowuuf a long, odd look. "Did no one tell you?" asked the magi finally, "Toth was not murdered. His wounds, and the evidence, point to him having done it to himself. I am sorry, I had thought you would have been told."
Beowuuf simply stared at the man, his emotions in a whirl. The first thought that came to his mind, oddly, was 'That is what I thought had happened.' However, that did not mean Toth was not murdered! Nadziran magic could perhaps force a man to turn on himself. Jorat himself had the ability, too, to impose his will on others as part of his training under Gralmis, just as Beowuuf - Tamas - had learned to shield his will against.
There were many replies to give to this, to refute it, argue against it. However, the second thought that came to Beowuuf was a simple one. Lord Gralmis had not thought to tell Beowuuf. Had not cared enough to make sure he was told. Did not believe him or empathise with him enough to inform him of the fate of Toth. Even if it were false memory, the memory of the friendship with both Toth and Gralmis was so strong that Beowuuf could not help but feel a bitter loss at having it so ignored.
As with all good Vakeros, when under attack - even from an internal maelstrom of emotions - he mounted a solid stoic defence. "Thank you for informing me, then," said Beowuuf, oddly formal to his own ears. "I think you are wrong, but I hope I am wrong." With that, Beowuuf strode off, all previous words forgotten.
Yes, it would certainly be a welcome relief to lose himself in exertion for a few days. Minimise his times of rest and thought.
* * * *
"You do not believe that!" said Tamas, coming closer when Beowuuf moved away.
Lord Gralmis turned to the Vakeros. "I believe you now though, is that enough? You were correct."
"You - you were testing him?" said Tamas aghast, for he had spotted the small cracks in the wolf's features and expression.
"I had to be sure - there is enough suspicion, accusations fly and the truth, the truth is strange and not forthcoming in many areas."
Tamas was still amazed. "You were testing him - and Jorat!" Tamas looked backwards. "That was why you asked Jorat to do what you did, to take point. You know he has refused to weild a weapon "
"And yet apparently twice he has drawn it. Interesting, is it not."
Tamas, however, did not join in the man's musings. "How will you test me, then?" asked Tamas flatly.
"I already did - your defense of Beowuuf proved yourself."
Tamas nodded, though the flat, dead look only intensified. "It is welcoming to know that you had an open mind," said Tamas, giving a meanful look that indicated it was an ironic statement about the suspicion against Tamas himself, and not his change of heart in Beowuuf.
Lord Gralmis came forward and patted Tamas on the arm. "That you had betrayed me, Tamas, was never my fear, and never what I needed proof. Only proof you had not betrayed yourself."
Tamas returned the enigmatic look of Lord Gralmis, but unable to find any words at the treatment made off after Beowuuf.
Seven days out going to Maaken
Beowuuf almost felt sory for Tamas - though Beowuuf suspected that he only wished to do this to stop thinking about the variety of swirling thoughts in his head.
"He's testing you!" Tamas said, "Lord Gralmis cannot believe Toth was killed by his own hand any more than you do!"
"I think I do believe Toth killed himself," said Beowuuf still storming away, "I just believe he had help."
"Listen - Lord Gralmis is testing me aswell! He does not trust any of us!" said Tamas.
Beowuuf turned to snarl something cutting to the man, but relented. Beowuuf felt disconnected, marginalised and cut off from the Vakeros, However in the back of his mind he knew it was almost childishness, knew that he was simply angry at the underlying situation and the stripping of his illusions, rather than being treated exactly as one could hope to be treated.
His emotions and connections were formed by his false memories, and he knew that what he felt was echoed now by what Tamas was feeling. Beowuuf had at the back of his mind the knowledge he could let go. Beowuuf even had the memories of having let go once, leaving Kaag and the Darklands. The guilt did not fade at that action, but Beowuuf acknowledged that at least he only had guilt. Tamas had not been able to, like a good Vakeros, let go of his personal concerns. This was what Lord Gralmis had tried to explain, ironically, when he had believed Beowuuf was a reflection of Tamas and to be trusted. Beowuuf realised the pain of the separation and apparent lack of trust would be much stronger with Tamas.
"It is not easy, is it?" asked Beowuuf. Tamas shot him a black look and stalked away. Beowuuf sighed. He had not meant it that way. Perhaps one day Beowuuf would be able to get on with himself. Beowuuf then thought of mind of the wolf and his battles. Perhaps not.
Beowuuf smiled grimly at the memory, partially for the exchange, and partially as it was one of the few pure memories he was able to have over the last few days, memories of the very recent past. Anything else further back carried too much strangeness and tension, and anything further back still - the flashes of false memory and the odd memories of the wolf - caused too much confusion.
Beowuuf observed Tamas trying to speak to both Jorat and Lord Gralmis, but both were acting aloof for obvious reasons. An attack yesterday by more undead had startled the group. Jorat had seemingly been caught unawares, and further had drawn no weapon in his defence. Tamas had tried to discuss that with Gralmis and been blanked, Beowuuf saw.
Beowuuf himself had felt surperfluous during the attack. He'd tried to guide a group on the fringes and had received odd looks - the commanders of the dwarfs and humans knew what they were doing. In a way, Beowuuf was glad to be a foot soldier once more without the heavy burden of leadership. Even leading Giaks had been a burden, strangely. Each death still somehow weighing on the conscience - and not just when they had died, allowing such foul creatures free reign was similarly a morally ambiguous place to be.
Tamas stalked close to Beowuuf. Beouwuuf almost grinned at the footsteps - Tamas's legs obviously knowing what it was that Tamas wished to do, yet did not wish to do.
"How is Jorat after the attack?" asked Beowuuf lightly, trying to help the Vakeros in opening a conversational gambit. Tamas indeed stopped, but shot Beowuuf a dark look.
"Why do you not ask him yourself?" asked Tamas harshly.
"Amazingly, I was not trying to fish for information on a dark plot, I genuinely was asking how he was - I could be wrong you know. I do remmeber him as a friend."
Tamas slowly let the air out of his body, then drew himself back up with a clean breath. Beowuuf shuddered, recognising the action he himself had done many times in recent memory.
"You would be the only one," said Tamas wearily, "in both asking questions without ulterior motives, and entertaining the possibility you are wrong. "
Beowuuf nodded sagely, unsure of what to say, unsure if he genuinely wished to say something sympathetic to Tamas beyond a means of avoiding thinking about his own problems. Almost as important, Beowuuf remained silent because he could sense Tamas building up the nerve to asking a question.
Again, Tamas let a breath out and took one back in. "According to Prince Torfan, I am taller than a Giak" said Tamas simply.
Beowuuf, caught by the unexpected statement, laughed long and loudly. Several people looked across at the two, but Beowuuf paid them no heed until he had worked the reaction from his system. Tamas's hurt look did not help any.
"Thank you - I am glad to have amused you, after all being questioned relentlessly by Torfan then insulted is what I live for," said Tamas.
"It was not an insult," said Beowuuf, wiping an eye, "it means he trusts you." After Beowuuf said it out loud, he stopped laughing and his expression grew uncomfortable. That Tamas was prefered over Beowuuf by Lord Gralmis was understandable. That Prince Torfan had known both Tamas and Beowuuf an equal amount of time, and after initialy taking to Beowuuf had now decided to trust and joke with Tamas was an unexpected stab Beowuuf could not have anticipated.
Perhaps Tamas spotted the flash of pain. "He trusts you too," said Tamas simply.
"Undoubtedly," said Beowuuf dryly.
"I mean it," pressed Tamas. "what do you think the questions were about?"
"Probably the best way to show that trust, I expect," said Beowuuf not dropping his tone.
"More or less. Torfan has no idea why the divide in the Vakeros group any more than I, and apparently Lord Gralmis is not speaking of it in any helpfully clear manner. Prince Torfan is unsure of approaching you now given the situation, unsure what is happening."
Beowuuf stopped. "Situation?"
"Yes, it is so nice to be trusted by the Prince when my own leader barely talks to me."
Beowuuf again felt sorry for Tamas, and managed to bring himself to say the words. "He does trust you," said the wolf confidently.
Tamas gave a grim smile at the reversal. "Undoubtedly" he said without realising the echo.
Beowuuf bit his tongue metaphorically, knowing he would sever it if he did it in reality. Was Beowuuf this annoying to deal with? "Think," said Beowuuf as nicely as he could, "if Lord Gralmis did not trust you, why would he leave you alone?"
"He left you alone," said Tamas and Beowuuf was a brown hair away from turning on his heel. Beowuuf was about to take a breath, then realised where the action came from.
"No he did not, he left me with you, while he stayed with Jorat."
"So what you are saying is that he does not trust Jorat and is keeping a close eye on him, while of course I am supposed to secretly know that I need to watch out for you?" said Tamas sarcastically.
Beowuuf gave him a look. "This really is getting to you, this situation with Gralmis?" asked Beowuuf. He then shook away the reply. "As I said, think. Apparently you trust me, I have no idea why, while of course Lord Gralmis will not want to believe anything ill of one of his own and trusts Jorat. This is typical Gralmis." said Beowuuf.
Tamas reluctantly conceeded. "He usually warns me," said Tamas.
"No, usually you are more secure and figure it out yourself," said Beowuuf.
"What makes you so confident. That I trust you, I mean" asked Tamas, and Beowuuf could not tell if it was challenging or actually good naturedly joking.
"Lord Gralmis would not be splitting the group unless he was sure you were," said Beowuuf. However, then a chilling thought hit Beowuuf. He assumed Gralmis acting rationally. What if the reason Gralmis had isolated Tamas and Beowuuf was that Jorat was working on the magi? Surely the magi could not be weakened that much in mind. Surely...
"I do trust you," said Tamas reluctantly, breaking Beowuuf's unwelcome train of thought. "What makes you so sure Jorat is guilty?"
And Beowuuf realised he could not specifically say, beyond a few small occurances, why it was not suspicions but certainty. He had tried to shrug off the intuition, again trying to believe he was simply lucky or clever in reasoning intentions. However, the more the wolf's dreams came to him the more he suspected some other ability at work.
"I just do," said Beowuuf grimly. He then looked to Tamas directly. "So, as I asked before - how is Jorat after the attack?"
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Post by Simey on Jun 25, 2008 6:21:50 GMT -5
There is another.
Senses that for so long have recognised only a single realistic - though nevertheless marginal - threat are surprised to encounter a second entity emanating potential outside the mundane. They probe further and feel the cold touch of the void. This is unexpected and gives even such a disparate consciousness pause for consideration. A firm grasp on a link to some external source would make it simple to sever the connection, but this is not to be had, so indefinable is the wielded power. Whilst extremely unlikely, it is notably not beyond possibility that this being might, therefore, defeat anything that Eshnar is capable of pitting against it.
The focus on the newly acknowledged power broadens, seeking a chink, however minute, in its indistinctly robust armour. It finds one, and in so doing makes another unforeseen but fascinating discovery: this potent entity is tied to another. The manner of their bond is as elusive as the source of the being's capability, but this matters little to the heart of Eshnar as it decides - in its multifariously coordinated way - on a course of action.
The enemy of my enemy is its friend, quips a facet of the heart, and the sensation of myriad malevolent smiles fills its countenancelessness and seeps out into the fabric of the living city.
Soon there will be no other.
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Note: my above posts were from Chapter 16; the one below is actually from Facebook.
________
Somewhere near Eshnar
All things are relative - his family had taught him that.
Simey Turnet may have babbled on about soap smuggling and other imagined peculiarities, but he did his utmost to look after his family, and was a loving husband, father and grandfather. Ultimately, he got the important things right, and so, in comparison to many supposedly right-minded men who left their families behind to pursue meaningless military goals or other forms of personal glory, he could have been seen to be a relatively sane individual.
Simey Vojske was beginning to feel like a relatively sane individual, despite the painful recollections of vivid hallucinations in his not nearly distant enough past. The nonsense that the Kai Wise Fox had been spouting since they had met him was beyond belief: dead people walking; living buildings; a whole city encased in a magical shield. Even more absurdly, Armadalus, despite admitting that he had no memory of such things, was taking the man seriously, claiming that he did recall the other members of the freakish group that the Kai described - including (Simey's eyes had rolled) the beast creatures - though not their approach to Eshnar, nor what they had done when they had got there.
Simey's incredulity at Wise Fox's story had met with patient - albeit puzzled - understanding from the Kai himself, and with ill-concealed concern from Armadalus, whose frequent frown-ridden glances had quickly grown rather wearing. The exchanges regarding who thought what had happened, and how outlandish it all seemed had gone on for some time until Simey had pointed out - with considerable relief at having happened upon a worthy distraction - that it was starting to get dark. Unfortunately, soon after they had set off to find a suitable place to make some sort of camp, the debate had begun again and had continued.
"You do accept that I obviously knew you before we met here in this wood, don't you?" said Wise Fox as the three of them made their way along a small trail.
"Yes," said Simey flatly, bored at answering the same question for perhaps the dozenth time. The Kai was gamely approaching the disparity in their various experiences from all sorts of angles, but nothing changed the fact that Simey not only had no idea what the man was talking about, but thought it all sounded completely preposterous.
"Well then," continued Wise Fox thoughtfully, clearly undaunted by the tone of Simey's response, "that means we must have met before. And if we've met before, and yet you do not remember it, could it not be that there are other things you do not remember?"
"I think I could quite easily forget having met you," said Simey caustically, procuring a hiss of disapproval from Armadalus, trudging along on his other side. "A living city full of walking corpses? That is less likely to slip my mind."
Wise Fox did not respond, and after a moment Simey glanced across to see if the man had been genuinely offended by his remark. But the Kai was peering with narrowed eyes through the growing gloom at something up ahead. Simey looked also and could see a broad, squat shape a little distance off through the trees.
As the three of them approached, bound by an unspoken, instinctive caution, it became clear that what they were looking at was an old, dilapidated hut sitting in a small clearing. The roof sagged in the middle, moss covered its log-built walls and the shutters of one window had fallen off; it seemed very much unlived-in.
"Well," said Armadalus ponderously as they halted at the edge of the clearing, "we do need somewhere to shelter for the night."
"Here?" said Simey dubiously. The cabin looked not only as though no one lived in it, but as though no one ought to live in it. It was probably just the slant of the roof and the window frames, but there seemed to be accusation in its decrepitude, as though the building bore malice towards not only those who had allowed it to slip into so ramshackle a state, but also those who might take advantage of its existence despite its obvious infirmity. A welcoming prospect for a night's rest, it was not.
But then Simey looked about at the surrounding woods and saw the encroaching darkness, the mist gradually gathering on the ground, the general dampness of everything in sight, and noted once again that they had no tent, nor any sensible means of constructing a decent shelter. The uninvitingness of the hut suddenly looked somewhat more inviting.
Well, all things are relative, he thought.
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Post by Aguila Saber on Jun 27, 2008 12:13:36 GMT -5
Westhaven, Lencia
Aguila and Tinto find their way to the Temple of Ishir in Westhaven. It’s a small building surrounded by a small garden not too far away from the main square.
“Strange,” Aguila comments as they approach.
“What do you mean?” Tinto answers.
“Something’s wrong here. I can feel it, and it is something to do with the temple,” Aguila mentions.
Tinto looks. “It looks normal too me,” Tinto says after a while. “Perhaps not as busy as might be expected, but it is a small temple.”
“It’s not the lack of people, it’s the place itself,” Aguila responds. “Can’t you feel it?”
Tinto shakes his head. “Perhaps if we go inside?” he suggests.
Aguila nods agreement and they approach the doors finding them slightly ajar. Tinto opens the fully and lets Aguila enter first. The Temple is overall a simple place filled with long empty wooden benches that serves as seats for the congregation at masses. Aguila looks around. The temple is white and bright having large windows in the walls to let in the light, but it is nearly devoid of decorations apart from the area around the white marble altar. Apart from a male priest in simple blue robes the temple is empty of people. Aguila looks around a thoughtful expression on her face.
“Anything wrong?” Tinto says in a low voice.
“Yes, definitely. Something’s very wrong here,” Aguila answers.
“What do you mean?” Tinto asks.
“Can’t you feel it? There is no life here. Only sorrow and emptiness, and the place feels wrong as well. Something’s missing,” Aguila says. “Let’s go talk to the priest.”
Aguila walks over to the priest with Tinto following in a tow. The exchange greetings, and Aguila asks about the facilities showing an interest in its history and construction. Her suspicions that something is very wrong are strengthened. After having told Aguila about the people who built and decorated the temple, the priests confirms that this place was once much more attended, but it has since fallen on harder times.
“What happened?” Aguila asks.
“The King’s crusades and campaigns in the north have drawn away many of the men folk, and resources are mostly diverted to other ports along the coast and to the north. Westhaven was important because of the trade to the south but nowadays the port has little significance since its merchant fleet is much smaller than that of Kasland to the south.”
After having found out the background Aguila decides to find out what has truly happened to this place for she has a feeling the priest’s words is not the full truth of things.
“What about the sorrow and sadness I feel in this temple?” Aguila asks.
“You feel sorrow? I guess a temple wishes to be filled with people to serve its purpose,” the priest replies.
“Are there other temples in Westhaven?”
“Just a small shrine to Kai in the eastern part of the city,” the priest answers.
“When do you have masses?” Aguila asks.
“On the major religious events and when people call for them.”
“Do you perform blessings or exorcisms?” Aguila asks.
“I’m afraid the temple no longer provides that,” the priest answers.
“Do you know if there is anyone skilled in the art in Westhaven?” Aguila asks.
The priest looks up and studies Aguila for a while. “You are a follower of Ishir. I think you will find a way,” the priest says.
“The way to Evoc Edyw?” Tinto says.
“Blessed be the Path of Ishir,” the priest answers.
“Perhaps a small tithe,” Tinto says handing over a coin with an ankh mark on it.
The priest nods and takes out a small pouch from his robe. “Place it on the pre-scribed place and the illness will be gone in a few days.”
Tinto shakes his head. Aguila watches the exchange with interest wondering what it is about.
Aguila notices a wry smile from the priest. Then he takes up a small vial and hands it to Aguila. “May Ishir guide you!” he says.
Aguila struggles for something to say but then answers: “Joy comes faith win”
To her relief the priest accepts her answer, and hands a small key to Tinto.
“I trust you can find your way,” the priest says.
To be continued.
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Post by Beowuuf on Jun 27, 2008 12:23:26 GMT -5
Evening on the outskirts of Maaken
She makes to plunge his runic spear between the ribs of the undead-
-and blinks for the undead only has ribs. Beowuuf twists his bluesteel sword to jam it, enough to create leverage so he can kick hard at the thing's leg and snap it. A swish of his sword-
-that twinkles silver in the air as his ichor-drenched Kai cloak flaps in the unnatural wind, slicing the mishapen head-
-that is a grinning skull. Beowuuf has to adjust his height, for he almost aimed at something man height, whereas the lumbering skeleton-like thing he kills is what is left of an ancient Giak.
Beowuuf spins-
-raising the well-used sword, not as good as a Sommlending blade but just as deadly in the hands of a Sommlending Knight of the-
-Cobalt Shield, except even that is not true. Too much confusion and Beowuuf simply falls backwards, allowing the humanoid skeleton, perhaps a Drakkarim by the wide frame, stalk towards him. Before Beowuuf can shift his strategy, and use his powerful legs-
-that all cat creatures possess, saving his inneffective rapier for defense-
-the skull explodes. Beowuuf can already scent the boom powder and quickly gets up, nodding thanks to the dwarf he knows will be behind him-
- the dwarf in the flapping yellow robes brandishing twin daggers, blood dribblign from the corner of his mouth-
-looking at him strangely. Bos Twilt perhaps reacting to the confused look or the confused way Beowuuf fights looks him up and down, and does not return the nod but runs off in the other direction.
The undead are pressing close, with purpose-
-surprised by the group. Apparently these creatures, not like the ones the have faced raised by the power of the gorge are the original army of Vashna left behind, the dregs. It is not surprising they had made their way towards Maaken-
-as the group make their way to the literal beating heart of Eshnar-
-it is surprising that the undead have stopped, hiding in the shadows. The group had disturbed them as they made to camp for the evening, days and days of forced march finally having led to the outskirts of Maaken. 'What had terrified them so?' asked Beowuuf to himself of the undead. 'Something now gone, but the final legacy remains' replied the voice of the wolf in return.
Beowuuf shook his head clear, the wooly ache of too many strange thoughts. HE concentrated all his powers. One voice,his voice. One vision, the bony undead in reality not the grotesque lumps of flesh from memory.
Beowuuf hears the shuffling noise and spins around-
-raising her enchanted blade high to the shambling mass and yellow robes that was once the man called Renoire. she hesitates only a fraction of a second at the sight, before lunging in even more determination to end the mockery of life. Her blade-
-stops as Beowuuf pulls himself in. No bone. Not real. No, worse - not an enemy.
Infront of him in the half-light of the shaded moon Jorat's face betrays, for a fraction of a second, shock. Then as he realises what is happening, his face settles into something else. Something unsetling.
He smiles darkly, his eyes sparkling.
'Not an enemy? Strike!'says somehting in Beowuuf's sub-conscious. Beowuuf has to resist the urge to jam-
-his rune spear into the undead thing before him-
-no, into the Vakeros. Beowuuf again has to resist. Jorat's eyes still sparkle. It is almost as if he is willing Beowuuf to strike.
"Beowuuf, no!" says a voice, the voice of Lord Gralmis close.
Beowuuf, yes, says a similar voice in his head. Not the wolf, not Beowuuf's own desires. Beowuuf's confusion has left him open, but he can feel the intrusion.
Jorat looks as if willing Beowuuf to strike.
"I mistook him in the dark, it is nothing," said Beowuuf, dropping his weapon to his side and ignoring Jorat's face to turn to Lord Gralmis. Beowuuf shudders at how close he came to succumbing to Jorat's trick.
"Beowuuf!" says another voice, this time it is Tamas's. Beowuuf barely acknowledges the grim face of the magi and turns to look at Tamas now. Beowuuf feels the circle of looks. Gralmis is alreay against him, turned by Jorat. Any camaradrie Beowuuf and Tamas may have started to develop had vanished in the last few days as both had seen too many similarities in each other to be comfortable. Tamas had tried to be careful, but Beowuuf has spotted the man start to look at him shiftily - or more precisely, his sword. The unspoken tension would come out soon if others were forgotten.
And so walls had come back up. Tamas may have trusted Beowuuf, but he didn't particularly like the man any more than Beowuuf liked the knight who had inflicted this torn personality on him.
And now, thanks to Jorat, apparently Tamas was turned to. There was no reason, in this restrictive situation-
-where the walls raised high up, pink, breathing and alive-
-no reason at all not to strike...
"Why are we standing here?" asked Beowuuf with effort, sheathing his sword.
"We...the undead are taken care of, Bos Twilt took on of the last. He said you seemed ...unwell..."
Beowuuf ignored Tamas's confused explaination, instead looking unkindly at Lord Gralmis. The magi had walked over to Jorat, and was slowly guiding the man away from staring at Beowuuf with apparent indignation. Although Beowuuf could see the malicious glee below.
"Beowuuf, what are you doing?" hissed Tamas as the other two stalked away.
"Nothing," said Beowuuf sharply and stalked agressively passed the Vakeros.
"I cannot wait to see your face in Maaken," said a voice.
Beowuuf span around. "What did you say?" Beowuuf demanded to the surprised Tamas. However, Beowuuf was already processing the voice, and realised he recognised it. It was Jorat's. Beowuuf span and stalked off, not caring to see whether Tamas looked with confusion or suspicion.
Beowuuf needed all his mental powers, it would seem. He needed to be able to protect his mind now. He needed one unbroken night of sleep without the distraction of the wolf's dreams and memories - no, without his real memories intruding.
One night was all he asked. Then he could finally deal with Jorat. Deal with the traitor before they assaulted Maaken.
The young Kai Master tried to strain his senses of Tracking to divine the correct path. His Sixth Sense was screaming to flee making it difficult. As if reading the Kai's intention, Armadalus looked across and shook his head.
Wise Fox looked in surprise at the other knight, the Knight of the White Mountain Simey as if looking for reassurance at this strange behaviour. The kngiht however, chose that moment to turn his head. A more paranoid Kai lord would think they had been snubbed, left to suffer as the Durenese knight always suffered in these situations.
Secretly though, Simey was almost glad to see the Kai lord. Simey had felt lost and alone when the group had split, when Wise Fox had lagged behind. Simey had not found the Kai, instead finding Armadalus. Then Simey had felt even more lost, and even more alone in wholy different ways.
Armadalus had resisted Simey's protestations abou finding the Kai, insisting they needed to reach the centre. Apparently Zipp had mysteriously left the group in Simey's absense, her only words talking of a 'connection.' The rest of the group, or rather what litte of the group that remained, had stopped to find her. Armadalus's own less divinely gifted senses had pushed him to move deeper into Eshnar.
Simey was, therefore, glad to have another rational human being, even if they were an overrated Kai Lord. Simey's snort at the slight to the Kai's powers by Armadalus was tempered by the ichor on the Kai's sword that attested to the usefulness of those skills. Already Wise Fox's keen blade had dealt with a spider creature, who knew what else would be lurking.
"We should head back to the rest!" said Simey, looking to the green clad figure now hoping the man may have better luck in restraining his fellow Sommlending.
"Suicidal, Simey," said Armadalus's disapproving tone, "the way back closes. If we do not hurry, those things behind us will soon be on our heels."
"So instead we hurry into the arms of them ahead of us?" asked Simey.
"There will be no such creatures before us," said Armadalus, in what was mistaken for a reassuring tone of voice. "No, I fear things will only get stranger now."
The unseen observer tried to wave his hands to the band of three moving away, get their attention. Zipp was right here, standing before them, why couldn't they...
Sorba then realised he was not Zipp. The blue fur he had seen earlier in the corner of his vision was back to brown. For a moment, the yellow robes stayed on his shoulders though. Sorba looked down at his hand. It no longer held the Power Key. However, he remembered it there nonetheless with a new resolution.
Sorba had trapped himself in Kaag for no reason. A later one of these mocking visions had revealed the truth, Hazelae had been split in parts. The young Hazelae he had seen, that he had slowly tried to find clues on, had surely never stepped foot into Kaag yet.
This particular vision seemed to play itself over and over in his mind a few times for no good reason. Sorba never followed the group, instead enjoying the quiet of his dreams to consider his next move. Sorba had demeaned himself, and worse yet surely made himself a hated enemy of his people were his location to be discover. And it would give him nothing for many years yet, possibly. To bow and scrap to those he would tear the throats fm with pleasure.
The stink of Doomwolves from the breeding pits below almost made him lose his mind many times. However, he had begun to hear a rumour, one that strengthened his resolve. Men of Dessi had been captured, somewhere in the depths of Kaag.
Sorba looked to his hand even though the Power key had disappeared. Dessi. Dessi meant one thing.
Beowuuf.
Sorba blinked. He looked around for-
"Beowuuf," said Tamas, and the wolf sat bolt upright.
Night on the outskirts of Maaken
'So much for an undisturbed night of sleep, and the ceasation of memeory', thought Beowuuf
"What was I saying?" asked Beowuuf quickly. Tamas looked in confusion, then waved away the question.
"Jorat and Lord Gralmis have gone," said Tamas. Beowuuf was instantly awake. One undisturbed night's sleep. Why couldn't he have had one undisturbed night's sleep?
Night on the outskirts of Maaken
Beowuuf was alert almost instantly, and quickly grabbed his bluesteel sword. He steeled himself against the befuddling nature of the dream, and equally ignored Tamas's black look towards the sword Beowuuf carried.
"Come on, there is not much time!" said Beowuuf, leaving Tamas standing confused.
"What is wrong?" asked Tamas. Beowuuf stopped and gave him an incredulous look. "I meant," Tams continued, "did you fear something more than the unknown?"
"Nothing is more terrifying than the unknown," said Beowuuf iconically, "come!" Beowuuf wondering if that were infact true. Where were debates such as this to distract him when he needed distraction - now he had his mind on other things.
"You there!" Beowuuf said to one of the human patrols, possibly risking an arrow through the chest - it would not be his first, of course. "Has the Vakeros Jorat been this way?" The guard looked surprised at the initial unexpected approach, then stunned and suspicious of the quetsion. Apparently the apporach of Tamas behind reduced the suspicion somewhat, but did not help with any positive answers. Neither Jorat nor Gralmis had been seen this night beyond making camp earlier. It was the same as an increasingly impatient Beowuuf and an increasingly tense Tamas did the round of the perimeter.
"Stop," said Tamas, "I just said they were gone - we should be talking to Torfan or Colt, not moving aorund like idiots."
"Thanks," said Beowuuf, "and we should be out there. Who knows what Jorat is doing, either with Gralmis or without."
"Not you for one, you cannot know Jorat is guilty of anything!" said Tamas.
"Oh, Beowuuf knows exactly my level of guilt," said a voice. Jorat came in to view, a cross between a sneering smile and and angry snarl on his lips. Beowuuf wished the man had bothced his words a little better - he was openly taunting Beowuuf under Tamas's nose.
"Where have you been?" challenged Beowuuf, and Jorat looked slightly uncomfortable but haughtily ignored the question. Luckily, Tamas despite his misgivings apparently still trusted somehting in what Beowuuf said.
"Please, Jorat," said Tamas failing to disguise the tone, "where have you been?"
Jorat drew himself up aggressively, but perhaps recognised the danger of antagonising Tamas and not revealing himself.
"If you must know, I was looking for you," said the Vakeros at length.
"Why," asked Tamas, but Jorat only gave a meaningful look to Beowuuf. To Tamas it must have seemed as if indicating the need to discuss Beowuuf's guilt. But to Beowuuf he could read the gloating. Beowuuf's skin crawled.
"What you wished to say you can say now, surely," said Tamas, taking a step towards Beowuuf, althoguh an uncertain step.
"It is not important," said another voice, Lord Gralmis comign forward apparently weak frm the exertion. "Nothing that cannot now wait until another time, as we have disturbed the entire camp."
"You both wished to talk to Tamas?" asked Beowuuf slowly, his skin crawling worse and paranoia setting in. His hand strayed to his side and his sword, somehting that perhaps all the others also spotted.
"I...was looking for Jorat," said Gralmis uncomfortably, "to stop him. After all, there is too much suspicion around for idle gossip and speculation, is there not?"
For a moment Beowuuf felt some hope, was Gralmis having the first incling of doubt? Had Jorat started to overplay his hand and-
Then Beowuuf felt a deeper chill. No, perhaps Gralmis was uncomfortable because Jorat had stolen Gralmis's action. Had the magi been going to talk to his favourite student at the subtle suggestion of Jorat? Had Jorat used that as cover to leave?
No, Beowuuf was becoming paranoid. Surely that would be madness, for then Gralmis would not be comfortable with Jorat claiming it as his own mission. Not unless Gralmis was completely under Jorat's control, his suspicions snuffed out at will. Although a power of Jorat's, sure Gralmis's mind was still strong enough to resist that. Surely...
Beowuuf realised he had but a moment to decide - dare he risk making a move on a stupid, paranoid thought. Or should he leave be, when potentially Jorat had just warned the enemy of their arrival, of their vague battleplans. When there was the possibility, however remote, that Jorat had just gone across to the enemy and given information that would lead to their downfall.
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Post by Aguila Saber on Jun 29, 2008 16:12:26 GMT -5
Westhaven, Lencia
Tinto bids farewell to the priest and Aguila does the same. Aguila then follows Tinto outside. Tinto clears his brow from sweat.
“Pheww.. I thought he had outwitted us there for a while,” Tinto says.
“You mind explain it all?” Aguila says.
“I don’t know much more than you, but while you asked your questions I saw a few things in the temple which led my thoughts to the note you had me memorize,” Tinto says.
“You mean the note of the shark?” Aguila says and Tinto nods in affirmation.
“So I tried out the code-word which was listed on the note, and well. Seems we were lucky to get it all correct,” Tinto continues. “I thought we were lost when he directed the code-sentence to you.”
“You have no idea how difficult it was to come up with words with those numbers of letters, and make them sounding like an answer to his query.”
“Well, you did it. Luckily Tina told us how she cracked Bolo’s code. Otherwise, there would no way we would’ve passed the question.”
“What were the things in the temple that made you suspicious?” Aguila asks.
“There were three small items. To tell you the truth, there weren’t that many features in the temple so they stood out all the more.”
“I’d be inclined to believe it is the guild who has robbed the Temple of its wealth,” Aguila suggests.
“I’d be inclined to believe you are right. Given how long they have been established here I’d say we do not risk getting the help from the authorities; they are sure to have contacts there. So what do you suggest?”
“I’d like to shut down their operations permanently, if there is a way,” Aguila says. “I’m quick and silent when I want. If I could find details of their works”
“Where does the key go?” Aguila asks.
“The note gave directions. We can find the hidden door if you so want, it should be somewhere here outside. Bolo’s ring should grant us entrance, if we want.”
To be continued.
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Post by Aguila Saber on Jul 1, 2008 16:20:03 GMT -5
Westhaven, Lencia
The hidden door doesn’t prove too difficult to find. Especially, so since the guild has been using the area around the Temple too much not to give away tracks in the ground. Aguila’s keen eyes have little difficulty picking them up while they walk in the garden outside the temple.
Soon the two find themselves before a small trapdoor which descends down below. A short while later Tinto spots the key hole.
“I’ve given this some thought,” Tinto suggests.
“Yes?” Aguila answers.
“I think I’d be able to pass myself off as one of their visiting members without attracting much attention. In short I’d like to go in first,” Tinto says.
“Why do you think I’d attract attention?” Aguila asks.
“Because you are a rather charismatic woman, and from what Tina told us this guild is almost exclusively men. Given what I know of the nobility in Lencia I’d say this guild is prone to be even more male dominated,” Tinto says.
Aguila considers the offer for a while studying Tinto’s determined expression. “Very well. I suppose you have a point. I will take a guard here and prevent anyone else from entering while you are there.”
Tinto looks relived. “Anything in particular you want me to look out for?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Find out how big the lair is, and how many people are in it. Don’t take any unnecessary risks. I may have a way of taking them all out without much fuss if they all turn out to be no good brutes and rascals.”
“I should be able to do that without problems,” Tinto says.
“Look especially for if there’s anyone who looks like a mage,” Aguila says.
Tinto nods. Aguila looks around for somewhere to hide, and she settles for climbing an adjacent tree. Tinto inserts the key into the lock, turns it and then opens the trapdoor. Seconds later the trapdoor closes behind him.
Aguila is half-expecting Tinto to reappear when she notices two other people approach the trapdoor. A dark haired man with a grim looking expression and a distrustful air, and a blond woman dressed in a blue gown with a confident expression. Aguila notices that the staff as being exceptionally well done and immediately suspects her to be a mage.
The male bends down by the trapdoor. Aguila takes this as a sign to move into action. She drops from the tree and attacks. The two swiftly turns around to face Aguila. The male draws a dagger from his belt; the woman raises the staff in front of her and starts to speak words Aguila does not understand.
Noticing that the woman is holding her staff too low to protect her head Aguila lashes out with her shiel-fa chords aiming at her throat. She hits and the chord wires itself around her neck before she can fend it off. While the woman tries to loosen the chord from her neck Aguila pulls the chord and brings the woman down to the grassy ground with a strangled gurgle.
Meanwhile, the man attacks her with a dagger. Aguila notices that he seems to be unskilled in battle and she easily defects the blow with a handbolt. Aguila then closes in on the male and with a number of rapid strikes with her handbolt to his head and stomach sends him to the ground - unconscious.
Aguila turns over to the woman who is struggling to ease the grip the chord has around her throat. Aguila strikes her on her head with her handbolt and the woman is knocked out. Looking over the two Aguila is confident that neither of them will awake any time soon.
All is over in less than half a minute, Aguila looks around to see if anyone has noticed what happened. All seems clear and Aguila realises that the entrance to the trap door is one of few places in this garden where the vegetation offers cover from the streets around the temple. No doubt it offered the guild some safety when attempting to leave and arrive at their secret hideout but this time it has worked against them.
Aguila looks over the unconscious bodies. There is not much on the male. The key to the lair, a dagger, a purse with a dozen or so Lune, some small things which she doesn’t know what they are for, and a signet ring like the one Bolo wore. The woman has a pouch with around fifty Lune, and a small bag with potions and magical aids. One of the potions she recognizes to be Laumspur while the others are unknown to her.
Aguila is looking closer at a small box she found in the bag when the trapdoor rises.
To be continued.
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Post by Beowuuf on Jul 2, 2008 14:51:31 GMT -5
Daybreak, Maaken
The general plan had been simple, if they were expected then they needed to provoke a reaction. There would not be much guile in the approach, merely in the reaction when those inside attacked. The soldiers would try to stay flexible and light, retreat quickly and hopefully avoiding each attack.
What awaited in Maaken was unknown, that was the problem. All that was known was that those seen had been few in number but high in power. Pulling them away from a central location was key, spreading out far to minimise area effects and pull them out to deal with them one by one.
It had, Beowuuf thought, sounded like a terrible plan, but unfortunately there were not much better ones coming around.
The details however, not something Beowuuf wished to know, since they were supposed to be for the commanders alone. However, Beowuuf's heart fell when Tamas found Beowuuf as the soldiers assembled and tried to tell them to him. If Gralmis had shared with Tamas, and Tamas was trying to share with Beowuuf, then surely Jorat now knew them too.
It turned out Lord Gralmis's mental power would be key, although that was not unguessable. The two Vakeros would be flanking him closely. Beowuuf would instead be at the rear, 'helping' the dwarfs.
If Prince Torfan really did trust him, then Beowuuf realised that Torfan would probably be the only one who wanted the wolf, and probably had to reassure the rest, Gralmis included, that Beowuuf would have an eye or four kept on him at all times.
Beowuuf's reaction to Tamas's attempt at sharing information was perhaps less than polite, and so Tamas had stormed off before Beowuuf could wish him good luck. Beowuuf was not sure of the Vakeros had heard him, and cursed himself. If Beowuuf were being dishonest with himself, the wolf also regretted not being able to offer his weapon to Tamas. The man would surely need it.
"Dwist, Twarl," said Beowuuf nodding to his two favourite shadows again. Sadly when both held Bor pistols Beowuuf still count not tell them apart. He had taken a guess given the one with the dagger tucked into their belt, but their countenances did not change to show if he was correct or not.
Needless to say, Bos-Twilt their brother did not give Beowuuf a warm welcome, more a bewildered unfriendly one. Beowuuf settled into uncomfortable position, sniffing himself and realising that he hadn't had a bath in quite some time. There was no need to fear their enemy knowing their plans if they could just smell him coming.
That thought reminded Beowuuf that Bos-Sal, Torfan's second, probably wasn't glad to see Beowuuf either. Indeed, the dwarf was staring at Beowuuf in an unfriendly manner aswell. Beowuuf resisted the urge to smile inappropriately at the dwarf, but it was not a strong urge - Beowuuf was worried. Gardax Holt meanwhile was looking equally as worried as Beowuuf, standing close to his Prince he had once defended. Beowuuf risked a look across at Prince Torfan. Torfan nodded seriously, and after a moment's hesitation winked aswell.
Beowuuf grinned in return, and wished that it lightened his mood. However, there was no time for any more thoughts. The group was deployed and moving out. Beowuuf pulled together his focus - for good or ill, Beowuuf was finally going to confront the fanatic Dark Walker again.
Daybreak, Maaken
Trap.
Beowuuf's heart sank and pounded at the same time, a good trick. They had not taken the most obvious route, and certainly the terrain should have helped them sighting enemy. The enemy would have needed to know their exactly path to have hidden so well, unless magic were at work too.
They had barely got the full group passed the first line of ruined buildings when the attack happened. A burst of light poured forth to the front ranks from one of the buildings opposite, as Dark Walker had employed before.
Screams echoed as black arrows fired precisely into targets - only later would Beowuuf realise how well picked they were, for there were not that many archers.
There was a bustle behind Beowuuf although he could not make it out, after images still playing on his retina from staring straight ahead. Looking sideways and blinking furiously, Beowuuf then heard the growls and thought he was hallucinating - for Giaks came left and right from the ruins and crumbling buildings. Not normal Giaks, and not the skeletal remains from Vashna's armies they had fought before, but undead such as Eshnar had produced in Giak form.
"Foes!" yelled Beowuuf though they had already been spotted, and Beowuuf raised his sword. Two Giaks split off from the small group that was surging to the dwarfs. The loud repeat of Bor pistols and rifles aswell as the after images still disoriented Beowuuf. The fact his brain tried to flash to confusing images of the heart of Eshnar, with undead Drakkarim and Giaks stalking, did not help. Worst was simply that these undead were unlike anything Beowuuf had experienced before. The normal inevitable crushing menace replaced by a determination and drive and speed. Beowuuf's sword rose and fell as his wolf instincts saved him time and again. There was a resistance to his blows and Beowuuf felt both sword and arm shards tingle at some form of magical expenditure. A serrated sword almost severed Beowuuf's arm and he pirouetted at kicked the thing in the face and cleaved the skull form the other. The first Giak did not seem to care, pulling on the offered foot trying to bite it. Beowuuf became less knight than animal, stabbing down as if using an oversized knife in revulsion and terror.
He snapped out of it and remembered 'his' training, cleaning dispatching the still wriggling thing. Beowuuf's head snapped left to see if the dwarfs were holding their own, yet a string of thoughts were already coming to his mind. The first was the safety of Lord Gralmis. If this were a trap, surely he would be targeted worst. The second was Jorat, he too would be at the front with Gralmis and Beowuuf needed to stop the man.
The third was the light at the front. Dark Walker. Whatever malevolence was controlling these things, Beowuuf could feel it had to be him. Beowuuf spared no more thought, rushing towards where the light had faded from. There was a blast of a Bor shot against a wall as Beowuuf ran. Beowuuf didn't think about it until a voice cried, "the wolf flees." Beowuuf almost turned around then, but decided everyone surely had enough problems than to chase him.
A hand then grabbed at the wolf, and he was spun around and almost chopped into Bos-Twilt. "Stay, beast!" snarled the dwarf after being disengaged by Beowuuf's fast flick. Beowuuf pushed Bos-Twilt aside in irritation and hacked his sword in a powerful chop to split the skull of a shambling Giak.
"Dark Walker," said Beowuuf, stabbing brusquely with his sword forwards but then gesturing backwards to blast the skull of the still moving monstrosity with as flick of his left hand.
Beowuuf's whirling emotions and rising adrenaline pushed him forward before he thought to care if Bos-Twilt would stop him or not. There were no more shots though and Beowuuf picked his way onwards.
Beowuuf could not see a flash of blue nor the robes of Gralmis, but could see that the human sections were having a tough time of the attack. Their weapons were by no means as effective against the skin of these undead, sword and especially arrow barely doing anything without effort. A few repeats of rifle shot showed that those like Wyte who had rifles were doing better, and the occasional badly mutilated body Beowuuf strode over spoke of concerted efforts by soldiers to take down lone creatures.
Beowuuf knew he was close to the place he thought Dark Walker was when a dark laugh to his left alerted him. The wolf rolled on the ground and sprang up weapon ready, but nothing flew at him. Instead the figure of a man was making no move, simply standing in an open area of ground with a few Giaks barely controlled beside him. In one hand was a tube of some kind, in the other hand was the Urgo-kor-Naar, the stone the ex-death knight had stolen from Beowuuf
Dark eyes flared in delight even as Beowuuf's narrowed. "Dark Walker, imagine meeting you here" said Beowuuf in snarled greeting.
Daybreak, Maaken
All the emotion that had fueled Beowuuf had not abated, even with the passage of time. Beowuuf was shocked at the knight's appearance, the Drakkar had been in the normal fitness of a Death Knight last. Now he was leaner from whatever trials he had faced, and gaunt of face, as if the zeal in his eyes was only fueld by consuming his body.
Beowuuf raised his sword and looked at it for a moment, then pointed it towards Dark Walker in a grim salute. Dark Walker laughed and gestured with the stone. Beowuuf turned away from the light, but Dark Walker merely laughed again.
"I would not kill you that way," sneered Dark Walker, "not after so long, not after you started me on this path of mine. My thanks would be a clean death." Dark Walker bowed in thanks and greeting, an odd sneer on his face as he regarded the wolf that had tracked him for so long. Beowuuf saw that an undead Giak behind the wolf had been charred and fell back waiting. Dark Walker seemed to look with distaste at a scroll in his other hand, and tossed it to the ground. Instead the man drew a Giak sword. He span it to test it and locked eyes with Beowuuf.
"Your new 'friends' will not help you," said Beowuuf, advancing cautiously.
"They do not wish to, I am here to ensure your force is weakened only. Call this confrontation an unexpected gift. Naar tells me you are not necessary. Give in and I will end you now, spare you what plans your 'friends' have for you at the temple."
Beowuuf had no idea what Dark Walker spoke about. He did not care, and sprang at the ex-knight. Dark Walker took a step back to fully catch Beowuuf's bluesteel blade, using the serrated edge to jar the weapon and create spece to swing his fist. Beowuuf snarled and rolled off as Dark Walker's fist flared briefly in fire singing his fur.
Beowuuf felt it, as certainly as the last time when he had faced Dark Walker and knew he would win. Beowuuf could feel he himself would lose. His Vakeros training a lie, his wolfish body needing the control of a focused mind, Beowuuf did not have the pure speed of a warrior. For a moment Beowuuf suspected some mental attack, but no, it felt as if it came from deep inside, his own dark voice building this last week. Dark Walker seemed to sense it too, and moved forward with increased certainty.
Beowuuf caught the driven blade and backstepped, but every blow and reaction seemed to come with a small pause. Dark Walker drove him back with feints and thrusts and the Death Knight's face took on a dismissive look.
Beowuuf felt his anger raise at that slight and quickly nipped under Dark Walker's defenses to stab upwards. The death knight's shock almost turned to relief that this weakened Beowuuf was not some trick, even as he quickly turned from the blow and kicked out. Dark Walker's foot quickly flicked out and landed hard, causing Beowuuf to fall down.
"Bah, it seems we are linked and my growth is your decay. A pity, it is beneath my honour and purpose to slay you now," said Dark Walker grimly. The man took a step backwards as the undead Giaks moved forward. The Death Knight seemed satisfied with himself when he looked beyond, satisfied that the damage had been done in the group. The man moved away, gesturing to probably the few living Giaks to follow.
Beowuuf leapt to his feet and cleaved with force at the charred Giak behind him before it could move. However, the pair of Giaks infront now blocked Beowuuf and aided Dark Walker's retreat. Beowuuf used a force word to shatter the blade of one Giak while kicking away the second. The bladeless Giak was just as intent on clawing at Beowuuf than using sword work. Beowuuf could not quite fight the Giak off quickly enough without falling backwards.
He ripped its throat open by pushing his sword in hard and kicking it away, but there was no conscious thought left to defend against the second Giak as it moved forard with speed, weapon stabbing downwards.
Beowuuf felt his body jar as the weapon struck a fatal blow, and the wolf let out a breath.
No one had saved him, the Giak had him dead. Yet from somewhere, not battle reflexes and training, not wolfish instinct, from somewhere a desperate and insane but certain blow had come.
Beowuuf registered the shock in his arm of the sword blow he had delivered.
Beowuuf registered the shaking of the Giak still trying to re-position its blade.
Beowuuf looked at his own bluesteel sword oddly, sticking out of the creature, and with a powerful kick dislodged it by throwing the Giak backawards. Beowuuf got to his feet with assuredness, already looking around to see the damage and absentmindedly used a second power word to end the undead Giak.
The battle was winding down, not with cheers of victory for there seemed to be so many less standing. However with Dark Walker leaving the Giaks were already starting to weaken and lose focus, some falling before blows had been struck.
Beowuuf stared down at the sword strangely once again, seeing the words underneath through the ichor. His mind flashed to standing by a dock once lookign at a simialr sword. Just as sailing always seemed to open and close chapter in his life, he realised so too did his blade. Standing looking at his father's sword when he became a knight, or holding it for one last time when he stopped. Holding this sword when he chose to stop running and find himself. Using it when all seemed lost, when everything irrelevant had been stripped away and he had found himself.
He stood for a moment longer as an indulgence, amazed at the place from which the blow and perfect control had come. However, he knew it was selfish. He turned around to rejoin the group. Discover exactly what the price had been in bodies for his revelation. And to confront the man who had betrayed them all this day.
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Post by Aguila Saber on Jul 3, 2008 13:40:17 GMT -5
Westhaven, Lencia
Immediately Aguila is ready to act but it proves unnecessary because the person opening the trapdoor is Tinto. He notices the two bodies lying on the grass; he closes the trap door beside him.
“Some undesired visitors. Take a look at this,” Aguila says handing the bag to Tinto, while she looks closer at the woman’s staff.
“They must be the visitors they are expecting below,” Tinto says looking at the bottles and boxes. Suddenly he draws in his breath. Aguila notices.
“Something wrong?”
“No, I just recognized something. I wonder how they got hold of it.”
“What is it?”
“Something I’ve looked for. Anyway, as for the rest. I think this pink bottle is calacena, it makes you see visions, and this green one is a sleeping potion. The others I’m not sure. As for the box with the powder I’d very much like to keep it,” Tinto says trying to not look embarrassed.
Aguila watches him for a while, clearly he is embarrassed. However, she recalls that they are not in proper place for arguing. “Tell me about the lair,” Aguila asks.
“I’d say it’s perhaps 50 steps by 50 steps large, much of it taken up by smaller chambers for sleeping and storage. Just below the trapdoor is a 10 steps long corridor with empty rooms by the side. I counted more than twenty people in there, all males.”
“What did you make of them?”
“Mostly rascals, a handful of them looked to be well-trained and muscled.”
“Anything else?”
“I came across Kujo. Seems he had fallen on harder time?”
“Oh?”
“They have some prison cells here. He was tied up in his hands and it seemed they had given him a flogging as well.”
“Interesting. How many cells?”
“Six of them and they were big enough to hold several prisoners if you think what I think”
“I think I do have the same idea,” Aguila giggles. “I trust you have something so you don’t hear my music?”
Tinto nods. “Yes, I found it prudent to stock up on protection.”
Aguila smiles. “Let’s take these two below and put them in a storage room, and then it’s time to entertain the rascals. If they are anything like this male here all should go like a dance.”
To be continued.
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Post by Aguila Saber on Jul 5, 2008 15:46:38 GMT -5
Westhaven, Lencia.
After having taken care of the male and the female Aguila seats her with her drum. She starts to beat it softly, while giving voice to a compelling song which the Telchos tribes have used to get their children to sleep. The song is repeated over and over, while for each time the song repeats Aguila increases the strength of the beat as well.
Your eyes are weary. So close your tired eyes. Look into the dark, and find a pleasant dream.
Your body is tired. So relax and cool down. Find something soft and lie down and rest.
Your mind is aching. So find a hot pool. Play with the water and listen to the waves.
Your senses are dull. So place head on pillow. Take a deep breath and lie down to sleep.
Fifteen minutes later, Aguila stops.
“That should have taken care of them all. Let’s have a look,” Aguila says.
The two steps into the main area and they see a score of sleeping men.
“So far so good,” Aguila says. “Here’s my plan. I knock two of them on the head and help you drag them to the prison area. There you strip them naked and rope them up in the cells, while I return here to play the drum. The music will keep the rest in la-la land. Then we repeat.”
“Naked?”
“Best way to make sure they don’t escape,” Aguila says. “And if some of them would wake by chance they would have no concealed weapons. Still, even so I’d advice caution if they stir. Remember what Bolo did.”
Tinto shivers. “Right, I’m on. Shall we?”
Aguila nods.
*_*_*
About one hour later all the guild members have been stripped naked and are hanging without clothes from the ceilings in the prison cells. The lair proved to have no shortage of rope and the needed tools to hold a large number of prisoners. Tinto has strung up the female she knocked earlier among the men in one of the cells.
When all of them are roped up and the cells safely locked, Aguila stops playing the drum and instead puts her efforts into aiding Tinto to look through their clothing and the lair.
As was the case in Quilla the more important records use code names. Tinto goes through much of their archives and commits the more interesting passages to memory. While going through the storage rooms, they come across many items which Aguila deduces must have been taken from the Temple of Ishir above.
“What do you think of the priest. A guild member, or simply forced to co-operate?” Aguila asks.
“I guess some force could be assumed. However, no true priest of Ishir would tolerate this thieves den,” Tinto says.
“You are right. I guess it’s up to the local law to make that call,” Aguila says.
“How many names were there in the records,” Aguila asks.
“Nearly fifty unique ones,” Tinto says. “And we have twenty-seven prisoners here.”
Aguila looks unhappy. “A bit too many on the loose for my taste. Perhaps we should stay here for a while and take out some more as they arrive?” Aguila suggests.
Tinto nods. “Sounds like a good idea. I noticed signs of them starting to wake up just now. Perhaps, you could play some more for them?”
“I will do that. How about you?”
“I will look through all the things they’ve taken down here. They’ve amassed a lot of things over the two years they’ve been here,” Tinto says.
“So I’ve noticed. Is staying here until the evening fine with you?” Aguila asks.
“Yes, I’m all for catching them all. Pity we will miss the ‘Wind Blowers’ that way,” Tinto says.
“Can’t be helped,” Aguila says. “Perhaps they will make a song to our honour when they find this out. Come to think of it. If they don’t I will,” Aguila says.
Tinto smiles. “I’d like to hear that when it’s done. Might you be willing to pose for a picture when performing it?”
Aguila smiles back and perks up at a sound from the prisons.
“I’d better get to work,” Aguila says producing her drum.
To be continued.
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Post by Beowuuf on Jul 5, 2008 17:09:51 GMT -5
Daybreak, Maaken
They had been betrayed well. The three medics in the group had died quickly into the attack, two by arrow fire and one with their throat cut cleanly. It would have been suspiciously clean, had not the one who caused it not chosen to reveal their act. Toth's dagger had been used again it seemed - the bloody item jammed into a post through the scroll Dark Walker had abandoned. Their traitor had finished the job to ensure Giak arrows did not have to be precise to finsih their more important targets.
Beowuuf did not bother to ask if anyone had seen who did it, though later Tamas would to no avail. Beowuuf too did not approach the scroll nor take it down, although his keen eyesight had already scanned its contents. Beowuuf did not wish the waters to be muddied by more accusation. It was left, eventually, to Gralmis to spot the thing, and take it down.
Gralmis, everyone considered, was lucky. Though weak the magi's powers had apparently been enough to save him from the initial onslaught of sniper arrows. Feltholm Colt had no such powers, and so had fallen. A Giak's aim was poor, but good enough. The man was still alive but fading fast as Beowuuf first moved around the field. His second, Wyte, had defended his commander and led the men well, holding the field using his Bor Rifle to good effect. Colt demanded to be in on any discussions when the leadership was reassembled, but by the time that happened the man had succumbed to the arrow wounds in the side of his chest and deep into the join of his shoulder and neck. He was laid to rest with his white bow on his body. Lythe Wyte seemed almost dead on his feet, an aggravated arrow wound on his shoulder perhaps showing how close he had been to Colt or how fortunate he had been escaping his own sniper attempt.
Bos-Sal was dead. The dwarf had leapt infront of his commander without thought, and taken the first volley of arrows there. Beowuuf felt a strange twinge, for the only words he had ever exchanged with the dwarf had been antagonistic. However, it was a passing thought, for sadly, that had not been the last volley of arrow fire. Gardax Holt looked desperate, as if he wished he had been quicker in reacting, as if he too could have given his life to protect his Prince.
Prince Torfan was lying with a ring of dwarfs beside him. There was an arrow sticking deep out of the side of his stomach and a second buried high up his chest. None of the dwarfs around seemed to be able to answer the Prince's light headed questions about how bad it was. Tamas had found Beowuuf by this time, and told him of Gralmis's escape and the lack of medics. Beowuuf seemed not to react, though in the circumstances this was not unexpected.
"Stand back, traitorous beast!" came a cry, and as one the dwarfs twisted round at the arrival of the wolf. Tamas backed away holding up placatory hands, then cursed that Beowuuf carried on moving forwards.
Beowuuf noted that only one of the twins seemed to be around. Again, Beowuuf could not tell which it was. The dwarf did not seem to have any more emotion on his dead face about that. Beowuuf looked around and realised that his other brother Bos-Twilt was not close by, sitting with a tear-stained face on the other side of the dwarf group. Family matters were strange things. Beowuuf still walked forward, even as the remaining dwarf twin aimed a pistol directly at Beowuuf, eyes steady even though his hand was shaking.
"It was not me," said Beowuuf simply and carried on.
"Leave him be!" said the dead voice of Bos-Twilt. The dwarf looked up briefly towards his brother and then Beowuuf, before looking back down at the ground. The twin's hand shook for a while longer, and then without further word he spun around and stalked away.
"Beowuuf," said Tamas quietly as he caught up, "we do not have any field training". Beowuuf did not slow down and spoke softly, with slight hesitation as if choosing his words carefully. "I have one advantage you do not. While I have memories of knightly training that does not include field medicine, I also have memories of wolfish training in...certain arts."
Tamas seemed clueless, and Beowuuf had no wish to elaborate further. With his new focus he could again think clearer. The past confusion of memories and dreams had yielded a rememberance of one thing - a dream of being apparently a wolfish assassin. The wolf memories of certain arts of the body flowed freely now he was mentally relaxed again, as had happened in the Darklands understanding Giak. He realised if he wished he could kill Torfan without anyone realising he was not administering aid. The real trick, of course, was to reverse that knowledge and hope that by knowing what not to do to he could manage to aid the dwarf.
The dwarfs seemed reluctant, but Torfan himself waved his fellows away and beckoned the wolf and Vakeros to him. "I trust yer two ter tell me straight how it is," said the prince, drawling in a sing song brogue and coughing painfully.
"It looks bad, but I have certain skills that could help," said Beowuuf. Either the way Bowuuf said it of the way Tamas reacted doubtfully made the dwarfs uncomfortable, but Torfan was far gone enough not to notice and allowed Beowuuf to come to his side.
Beowuuf knelt down, suddenly nervous. Knowing what not to do was not exactly the same as what to do. Trying to administer field aid to the wounded as he had occasionally done was not the same as trying to diagnose and potentially tend the dying.
"Yer killing him!" snarled Gardax after Beowuuf had attempted a few things and Torfan cried out yet again.
"No, I am not," said Beowuuf hotly, and then relented. "Possibly. Damn!" He moved back, angry with himself. "I cannot tell, I could kill him removing these things."
"Good...try," said Torfan weakly. "At least one o' us has some field training - now yuv yanked those things around enough, I think I know what is goin' on in there."
Beowuuf looked surprised but Torfan rolled his eyes as if it should be expected princes would have healing knowledge. Or perhaps it was the pain. "Come here lad," said Torfan gesturing. Beowuuf came back forward.
"Not you, yer cack-handed sod!" said Torfan, gesturing passed Beowuuf to Gardax. "Gardax, I will tell ye what to do, just do whit I say!"
Beowuuf and Tamas stood up and backed away, watching as a more confident yet still pained Torfan guided Gardax's actions. Beowuuf shrugged his shoulders to Tamas at the previous attempt, though he was still concerned for the wounded prince.
Although light headed, Torfan seemed to get slightly better and was bound up. "Help he...stand," said Torfan, "get me to Colt then," he said, at the time none of them realising it was too late.
Finally the group rallied around, the tally of those alive taken. The group had been whittled down from above thirty to barely half that number including the Dessi group. And Beowuuf was filled with a chilling certainty that the four of the Dessi group, if he counted himself in their number, needed to be whittled down to three. The only question was how to do that without losing more than that in the process.
"The scroll," said Lord Gralmis taking the lead, "was apparently left by Dark Walker."
"I think he was being co-erced by the rest," said Beowuuf, "judging by his actions afterwards."
Lord Gralmis did not look around. "It says that the wolf Beowuuf must go to the temple tonight at moon rise. Alone. Our concern must be how to use this window to-"
"No. I go alone," said Beowuuf. There were several reactions, from consternation from Gralmis to outright disbelief from some others, the humans especially. Jorat said nothing, staying out of eyesight from most, though Beowuuf could see his sneer.
"If you think we will let you go now," said pug-nosed Wyte, deliberately not looking backwards at the line of covered bodies, "especially alone, then-"
"What makes you think you could stop me," said Beowuuf. All eyes turned to him. Beowuuf rolled his eyes.
"If I am the traitor, then I would have been gone by now. Or I will be gone when I need to be gone. And if I am not, then you can assume the traitor is still with us." Beowuuf looked across, seeing Lord Gralmis now shifting uncomfortably beside Jorat, obviously guessing at what Beowuuf meant. Jorat was being held back from saying anything with much whispered words from Gralmis.
"And so, I think even if I did not wish to go, if I am supposed to be at the temple by moon rise, I will be there." Beowuuf had his sword loose in his hand, point downwards. He stabbed that point in the ground. "I would rather do so on my own terms, without anyone else being found with throats slashed or without another attack of the undead."
The losses around perhaps partially persuaded them. Prince Torfan's pained words and Lord Gralmis's reluctant agreement sealed that matter.
Then began the discussion of using Beowuuf's arrival as cover.
"Unless you are prepared to deal with the traitor, there is no point!" said Beowuuf with consternation, "I will go alone! You should all just leave. Come back with a bigger force!"
"Oh stop trying to be a hero," said Tamas, but there was an odd humour to it and not aggression. Beowuuf ignored the comment though.
"Well, you do not need me to decide my fate then," said Beowuuf, "I want to be alone to think anyway"
"Not alone," said Gralmis, and Beowuuf winced for he had wished to use the time, not to sneak away, but to sneak around.
Tamas perhaps saw the look. "I will stay with him," said Tamas. The group looked reluctant, but perhaps would also be relieved to discuss Beowuuf in his absense. Beowuuf nodded to the Vakeros, and the two moved off. They had not moved off too far away when they heard the general hubbub of voices raised in spirited debate.
Ruins of Maaken
Beowuuf sat on a piece of ruined wall, sword out staring at it. He had not said much, leaving Tamas to his own thoughts.
Tamas could not even begin to imagine what they might be, but was even more susprised tht they were able to sit in almost amacable silence given their previous encounters. Tamas tried not to look to hard across at Beowuuf, but-
"The sword is yours if you wish it," said Beowuuf looking across. The Vakeros was startled by both the asking, and the import of the words. Tamas shook his head impereptibly as if to clear his ears.
"The sword is yours," said Tamas at length, "you will need it."
"I will certainly not need it where I am going, and that is not the point - the sword is yours, is it not?" asked Beowuuf.
Tamas could not figure out why the sudden directness of the questions. "I could not take it," said Tamas at length.
"What had changed, you have obviously wanted it before," said Beowuuf. Tamas felt the accusation like a strong physical blow that belied the simple nature of the words. He did what any good Vakeros did, and mounted a stoic defence. Or at least try. After his thoughts a moment ago, the ground had apparently shifted. Beowuuf's 'amicable silence' had been him slowly smouldering. It left Tamas rattled.
"You obviously need time to your delusions," said Tamas standing up, "I will leave you in peace and see what the rest are doing."
Tamas barely got a number of paces. "Coward," mumbled Beowuuf.
Tamas spun around. "What do you want me to say?" snarled Tamas, stoic defense crumbled, "No! Why would I want that thing, it is yours, your sword, words to you imbedded in the blade. While I was lost in the Darklands thinking he was dead, rescuing Gralmis, you were forging a relationship with my son!"
Beowuuf grimaced, obviously contradictory emotions were swirling inside of him. Apparently he was better able to keep stoic though, his words were flat and dead, hissed out. "And how do you think I feel looking at you, knowing that everything I remember and had with him was a lie, is a lie. What do think my relationship will be like if I were to return now?"
Beowuuf stabbed the sword into the ground. Tamas looked across at it as if it pained him.
"The same, I imagine," said Tamas at length, bitterly.
"You are his father," said Beowuuf
"He forged that for you - I barely know the boy! You do! No matter what I am, I will just seem like...seem..."
Beowuuf smiled, a dark, amused and not entirely unsympathetic smile. "A copy?"
"Less interesting," said Tamas, sitting down hard on the wall. After a few moments, despite himself, he laughed. "I sound like an idiot."
"It is quite liberating when you can let go and say these things out loud, is it not?" said Beowuuf without his edge, though still apparently uncomfortable. "It is quite liberating when you can let go."
Tamas looked at the sword, and looked across at Beowuuf.
"Go on, ask," said Beowuuf.
Tamas was hesitant, unsure what to say. At length though, after again looking at the sword, he said it. "What...what is he like?"
* * * *
Beowuuf and Tamas sat on the same wall. Beowuuf still looked across at the sword, determination on his face. Tamas instead looked off into the distance. Much had been said, not all about the past.
"You seem concerned about the plan," said Beowuuf, apparently able to grin finally around Tamas, the Vakeros noticed.
"I cannot believe that Sahmas is a Vakeros knight," said Tamas, looking over. "Both that he would want to, and was accepted!"
Beowuuf smiled at Tamas leaping over the last part of their conversation, perhaps at the unspoken acceptance Tamas had meant. The wolf then shrugged, apparently still uncomfortable discussing the subject but at least making the effort to hide it well. "He has the blood," the wolf said, gesturing to Tamas. "And Dessi has the need." Beowuuf's head dropped, and he started at his feet with a darker face. The three other Dessi had been told of the blood plague, but it was not something anyone could be expected to assimilate from words alone.
Beowuuf breathed in then out, obviously eager to change the subject. Tamas was happy to obblige. "So," said Tamas, "you do not think Jorat will suspect a trick."
Beowuuf looked around and smiled. "Not if you can do your part," he said. Tamas nodded.
Beowuuf made to get up, but Tamas was to his feet first. "And that was almost well done," said Tamas. He indicated the sword still in the ground. "I will leave first, there is much to do. And then no excuse for you not to take back the sword."
"I do not-"
"You will have need of it," said Tamas, meaningfully about what was to come.
Beowuuf looked at it one last time, and then nodded. He then looked up at Tamas. "You do realise at least one of us will probably not make it out of this confrontation alive. I mean the first one, let alone the trip to Maaken."
Tamas nodded. "Well if it is me you will have no guilt about keeping the sword."
Beowuuf again grimaced. "And if it is you, neither should you."
Tamas nodded and left. Beowuuf stayed for a few moments longer, looking at the weapon. At length he stood up, and took it with purpose. He stared off towards where the group were, and beyond that to where he assumed the temple of Maaken was.
There was much to do.
Ruins of Maaken
Jorat strode back into the group. Lord Gralmis had asked him to check the perimeter for Beowuuf, the wolf having run away. Jorat mumbled darkly to himself as he searched in vain alone, looping back to speak to some of the other searchers. Of course, when Jorat came back, everyone - Beowuuf included - was assembled.
"My Lord, what goes on?" asked Jorat suspiciously.
Lord Gralmis's brows were knotted. "I know not. What I have been told," said Gralmis, looking across at Tamas, "does not appear to be so."
"You will find alot of that going around recently," said Beowuuf, standing tall. Jorat snarled, standing equally tall and squaring off against the wolf. Lord Gralmis walked over to Jorat and laid a placating hand, moving forward a step to defend his knight.
Tamas had already walked over to stand by Beowuuf,but Beowuuf waved him off.
"What is your meaning, Beowuuf," said Lord Gralmis. His tone was civil, but he was not quite able to hide the anger in his eyes. "Be careful you not reveal yourself in your accusations," the magi said despite himself.
"I do wish there would be another explaination for my thoughts," said Beowuuf, "I would be happy if I simply revealed myself to be going mad."
Jorat sneered again at Beowuuf trying to subtly avoid being labelled the traitor. Beowuuf spotted it but ignored it to focus his talking to Gralmis, and around Gralmis the group gathered uncertainly.
Beowuuf focused on his words carefully. "You must have felt it, the oppressive atmosphere that has been in this group, sapping us even before traitor was named."
"A traitor was named indeed, by Toth! I heard him, wolf!" said Jorat hotly, but Lord Gralmis waved him back - Beowuuf did not let his eyes flicker, even though Jorat had of course done what Gralmis warned Beowuuf from, to reveal himself to all in the accusations.
"Before Toth something should have alerted us, the Lord Gralmis I knew would not have been laid low in his mental energies by the breaking of his body, not while his spirit was strong. Not unless some external force were at work in the Darklands onwards to dampen powers."
Lord Gralmis seemed to hesitate, as if realising such as statement was worryingly true - and Beowuuf had not been with them in the Darklands.
"Toth killed himself-" started Beowuuf.
"Was murdered, by you!" hissed Jorat, drawing a weapon shakily, and Lord Gralmis pushed the Vakeros backwards and stood infront of him. Beowuuf took a subtle step sideways to still see Jorat over Gralmis's shoulder. Tamas took a step sideways to ensure
"Toth killed himself, but you are right Jorat - it was murder," said Beowuuf. "And as Gralmis himself said, there were only the four of us close on that night. Only four of us close, and I know that the training of Tamas Rehme included no offensive mental abilities of that nature. You will have to trust the fact that the wolf Sorba did not either." Jorat flicked his gaze briefly to Tamas and then to Gralmis before locking gaze with Beowuuf again.
"Beowuuf, I told you Toth killed himself," said Lord Gralmis placatorily, looking around the dwarfs and humans in the group.
"And you know aswell as I what you secretly shared to at least Tamas and Prince Torfan - that some of his wounds would have been impossible to have been self inflicted, his limbs would have been weakened and his mind already dying unless some aggressive agency were controlling both." Lord Gralmis raised an eyebrow at Beowuuf's guess. "A lingering pleasant image from when I collapsed to your word of power that night," said Beowuuf in explaination. "Of course, my mind has been under assault by a skilled opponent, with other memories overwhelming that image."
Jorat shifted uncomfortably. Apparently he could not of course defend this without losing a vital point to score against Beowuuf.
"We know the traitor exists, we were told by Kollosco one had made contact. One who was shackled by Toth's fear, scaring the man enough to be silent to his fellows. How the traitor must have feared and yet revelled when Toth's tongue loosened to me - a great danger, but finally Toth's clutches freed from the group, allowing the traitor to move freely and giving him the excuse to remove the one who knew his secret. Free to move around, betrayed us last night communicating with the enemy no one watching them."
Beowuuf moved a step closer, sidestepping left to allow better sight with Jorat over Gralmis's shoulder, nodding at the knight with the trembling weapon in hand. "I even heard the voice of the traitor in my mind, so certain of his victory, his hold over us all. The voice had a recognisable tone, so arrogant was the traitor - it was the voice of Jorat."
Tamas withdrew his blade. Beowuuf did too. Beowuuf and Tamas had been busy, the human and dwarfs did not bat an eyelid
Jorat backed away from the two knights, combined, as they advanced on him. Lord Gralmis looked back around to the knight quickly, then back to the two advancing accusers.
"Wait! There must be a mistake, I cannot believe this," said Lord Gralmis shocked.
"There's a reason for that," said Tamas suddenly, harshly, and turned round to face the Elder Magi. Beowuuf matched the turn perfectly. Behind the magi Jorat turned his blade to be held firmer, pointing at Gralmis, a third point in the triangle.
"You see," said Beowuuf, "I could not believe that you were alive my lord. For there was no way conscious you would have risked holding out, and yet I could see no point in the Darklands trying to keep you sedated otherwise. Just as your mysterious survival now after we were betrayed was a mystery, weak as your powers were supposed to be now."
"Indeed," said Tamas nodding, "when Beowuuf said it, argued the logic and what we knew of you, there should have been no reason I should have foudn you alive in the cell as I did. Found you left alive on the battlefield today. Too easy, you could argue."
"Yes, that is exactly what I argued," said Beowuuf, grinning nastily as the two knights spread out and Lord Gramlis looked aghast. "You see," said Beowuuf, "there was no reason at all for Tamas to find you in our cell, no reason for you to escape so easily. Not unless you were suppsoed to escape, not unless the Darklands wished you to get back to Dessi, integrate with the council again.
"Beowuuf, Tamas," said Gralmis, backing away, "this is madness that you speak!" Lord Gralmis raised his hand. Jorat started to move forward perhaps seeing the danger.
Tamas was faster, stepping infront of Beowuuf to prevent Gralmis harming the wolf. "No, it is not!" sid Tamas harshly, betrayal and fear dripping from his voice as he raised his sword and pointed it.
"Indeed, I cannot believe the real Lord Gralmis would be alive today," said Beowuuf equally as grimly. Beowuuf was shaking, letting his breath fill him and letting it out as slowly as he dared, focusing all his rage and controlling it. "Well," said Beowuuf offhand, pointing his blade towards Tamas's back "Not unless Lord Gralmis was needed to ensure a Drakeros would be inserted into the highest ranks of power."
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Post by Aguila Saber on Jul 8, 2008 16:46:03 GMT -5
Westhaven, Lencia
Taking turns in playing and pausing, nothing much of note happens the next few hours. Tinto shows her the things he has discovered in the pauses and they discuss his finds. There is not much of great value to them but after having gone through their pouches and stashes they discover wealth a bit in excess of 3,000 Lune.
They also discover a few religious items: incense and blessed water, a silver statue of Ishir, praying books, an obsidian tablet with a moon, and several more items. There are also a number of fresh herbs, powders and potions which Tinto recognizes, and explains their use to Aguila. Last but not least there is a large number of weapons and armour in the guild hideout, a few of them looks to be excellent craftsmanship but overall they are well crafted and well kept weapons of fine quality.
In the end they take nothing with them. The religious items belong to the church, the money should go to the city, and what remains is better left alone here for the authorities.
In the late afternoon Tinto makes a macabre discover when he finds and pulls open a concealed trap-door and is met with a horrible stench. Below are roughly a dozen corpses in different states of decay. All looks to have been dead at least for a week; the stench is unbearable and he quickly closes the trapdoor and seals it again.
Aguila and Tinto are discussing the corpses he found when Aguila notices sounds by the entrance door. “Seems like we will have grounds to use some of their own medicine against them,” Aguila says. “Ready?”
Tinto nods.
“And remember to stay behind while I take them out. I don’t want you to get hurt,” Aguila continues.
The two take up positions their positions and wait for the guild members to appear. Aguila hears the sound of the entrance closing, and signals to Tinto that he can throw his potions when ready. They both withdraw their hands waiting for the door to the corridor to open. Aguila hears them talk excitedly about a profitable concert, and Aguila wonders if they have just returned from the show in the Royal Gardens.
“Serio? Are you there? We have some exciting news for you!” a voice calls out from the corridor, a handful seconds later the door opens, and within it is followed by the sound of crashed glass.
The foul stench of the potions mix and envelope the unprepared guild members. They cough and choke, and there is sound of them vomiting. One of them yells out in terror. “Get away from me blood suckers!”
Aguila takes up her position at the edge of the billowing smoke and prepares to attack anyone who stumbles past it. A guild member stumbles out choking and coughing. Aguila uses her shiel-fa to entangle his legs with a chord and then pulls, sending him backwards into the smoke.
Another man comes out of the smoke. His eyes gleam with madness and he screams “Die you bloodsucking wench!” and tries to stab Aguila with his dagger. Aguila grabs his hands and uses his momentum against him; he tumbles forward head first and then crashes to the floor in an awkward position. There is a crack of bones and the man grows silent. Aguila knows without looking that he has broken his neck in the fall.
Two more guild members; a male and a female step out from the cloud and Aguila unleashes some of her handbolts from her shiel-fa hitting them in their chests. The female drops to the floor clutching the handbolt and then goes still while the male escapes with minor injuries and lunges at her with something looking like a short staff.
Aguila dodges the attack and notices that the male looks at her with widened eyes, and uses his confusion to strike at his supporting leg. The man cries and drops flatly to the floor with one unusable leg. Aguila follows up by hitting him on the head knocking him unconscious while he cradles his leg.
Then there is nothing. Aguila hears a few more of them choke inside the cloud, but none exists from it. Slowly the smoke disperses into a small ventilation hole in the ceiling, while Tinto and Aguila assess the damage.
“Did you have to kill them?” Tinto says.
“I’m not for taking unnecessary chances. They have shown little mercy towards others,” Aguila says. “Besides, the one who broke his neck was a mishap. If he had trained properly he would have been winded, but he was much clumsier than I expected.”
“And the female?” Tinto says.
Aguila shrugs. “I think we didn’t quite miss the Wind Blowers after all,” Aguila comments.
“How so?” Tinto asks.
“Judging by what they are wearing and what they were holding, I think these men and women are the Wind Blowers. Just take a look. There is one flute, and there is another… And there is a small trumpet,” Aguila says.
Tinto looks at them wide-eyed but can do little else than agree with Aguila.
One hour later the smoke has dispersed and they have a full view of the new arrivals. In all eight more people, two of them female, and there is ample proof that they were indeed the Wind Blowers. Three of them are dead, apart from the two Aguila killed one of them suffocated in the smoke.
To be continued.
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Post by Beowuuf on Jul 9, 2008 0:50:00 GMT -5
Jorat and Gralmis had already maneuvered perfectly to put Tamas in the center with a few steps. Tamas spotted the gesture out of the corner of his eye and turned around, realising now he was the one in the middle of his three fellows.
"Beowuuf, what is this?" asked Tamas aghast turning to the wolf.
"This," said Beowuuf, raising his own left arm up to indicate the half-hidden bluesteel shrapnel, "means that I can still cast battlemagics with my left hand." Beowuuf advanced a step, and around him Lord Gramlis and Jorat moved in concert. The dwarfs around closed ranks forming a defensive permeter to prevent escape with rifles raised, the few human warriors gripping bows.
"What hand do you cast magics with?" asked Beowuuf. He indicated the Vakeros Knight's right arm. "Show us your shrapnel. A simple test to prove your innocence." The way Beowuuf said it, the way everyone around acted, it was clear no one was yet certain.
"What?" said Tamas suddenly panicking, "No! Lord Gramlis, Jorat - what is happening? Do not believe this wolf!" Tamas turned with anger to Beowuuf. "The wolf has apparently seeded each one of us with a different version of the truth to mask the real truth!"
"No, I have consistently shared my suspicions with everyone here today except you," said Beowuuf. Beowuuf looked out of the corner of his eye, apparently still aware that he may need a final proof. Beowuuf ignored it. "Whereas you seem less than consistent. Why would you call to a man you were convinced was a traitor a friend now? Why would you ever believe your mentor a traitor on my word alone? Infact, nothing you do makes sense. Tell us, how did you manage to travel the Darklands, the blasted region of the Naogizaga? How did you manage to gain entry to Helgedad itself? How did you find Lord Gralmis at all, and managed to effect an escape?"
Beowuuf stepped forward. "And more importantly and you will not understand this question, no matter how much of my memories you possess - why? Why would you seek a suicidal mission such as that?"
"What?" said Tamas, shaking his head angrily at the old argument, "I did it for Lord Gralmis! I did it becuase he may have been-"
"Only a cold mind bereft of soul would have though that a valid choice for a Vakeros to make," hissed Beowuuf. "If I had been in my right mind, if I had thought there was a chance then yes, I might have gone for Gralmis. But such a mission without any hope was suicide. Only a souless minion would believe that a true Vakeros would do that - would betray their people and the memory of their father, or their son - the memory, as they believed it at the time, of their mentor - with such a mission. To turn away from their duty to their people and fellow knights. To survive at all costs and get back home. To keep alive the memory of three so dear."
Beowuuf and the rest closed in. Tamas raised his sword, apparently still confused. "Beowuuf, what madness do you speak? It is me, Tamas, do not let Lord Gralmis or Jorat confuse your mind!"
"I AM TAMAS!" bellowed Beowuuf with certainty. "And you could only make me doubt it for so long. I do not care what you gained from my mind, how much you can think like me, you do not understand nor feel, spawn." Beowuuf advanced again.
Tamas's sword shook in his hand and he threw it to the ground as if to prove his innocence.
Only Beowuuf could spot the subtle sneer in the eyes and corner of the mouth. 'I understand very well' said Tamas's voice in Beowuuf's mind, unmasked now. 'I know you want back in this body, you will not-'
'Tamas' cut himself short with a gesture of his right hand to enact a right handed spell. Except Beowuuf's sword was already swinging without hesitation. 'Tamas's' arm was severed at the elbow, and before he could cry out a blesteel blade was buried onto his chest.
Tamas's mouth opened and closed a few times in surprise, unable to speak. Beowuuf was closed mouthed, but apparently afflicted with the same lack of ability. Now that he had done what had to be done, Beowuuf couldn't help but feel the loss. Feel deeply disturbed to see the sword buried in his own chest. It was what the spawn could never understand. Deep in the soul of a Vakeros no matter the body, no matter the confusion of mind. Your people. Your fellows. Yourself. In that order.
Again, the sword ended another chapter of his life. One that, despite all logic, Beowuuf had perhaps thought would take a different tack. Reuinted with his old form, escaping this old prison he had placed himself in.
Beowuuf kicked the shocked and dead figure from his sword. Everyone around was looking for various reasons at the spectacle. Beowuuf gestured down distastefully with his sword blade and flicked the sleeve of the severed arm - the black shards of steel were clearly visible to all. Beowuuf let out a long, deep breath, finally reassured.
"Tamas," said Jorat, trembling and looking at Beowuuf. "You, you really are Tamas." The man was clearly shocked. Later he might even be appauled at his suspicions, perhaps the lengths late at night he had considered going to to remove the 'traitor.'.
"Yes, said Beowuuf, never more certain of the fact, nor more certain he would never, ever be that man again. Lord Gralmis seemed to share Beowuuf's relief. Beowuuf did not, for suddenly there was an old burden back on his shoulders - a knowledge that, but for the machinations of Helgedad, Lord Gralmis would not be standing here now.
Beowuuf instead caught Prince Torfan's eye. Despite the shocking nature of the scene, the dwarf managed to ignore his own wounds and winked at Beowuuf. Beowuuf, despite himself, smiled.
"Well, now we have that out of the way," said Beowuuf lightly, ignore the gruesome sight by his feet and the questioning eyes, "as I was saying..."
* * * *
Moonrise, temple of Maaken
Beowuuf walked, unarmed and alone. He stopped for a moment to look around, and look at the moon high, and the stars reflected in odd puddles and water bodies around. Is this what Vashna had done, this very trek so long ago? Was this the last images he had seen according to the legend before being reborn?
Was Beowuuf about to find out or was he walking to his doom without ever knowing why?
Beowuuf shrugged to himself, tried to whistle one of the Vakeros battle hymns that sprung to mind from his youth, though sadly found wolves unable to whistle. He settled for humming and resumed his march.
Moonrise, Temple of Maaken
Three stood out. Despite the small group of hangers on, there were definitely only three poeple in the room. And Beowuuf, of course. The wolf hadn't quite figured out how he'd came to the conclusion this would be a good thing to do.
There were some undead Giaks standing hovering in the background. Beowuuf could access Sorba's memories again, somehow these creatures had belonged to Hazelae. They should be dead, for the powers of Hazelae were only now in Eshnar. That they lived of course was testiment to the power the first figure weilded - Dark Walker.
The man's eyes betrayed his surprise and perhaps even fear that Beowuuf lived. However, the company he stood in and the zeal in his heart burned away the fear in his eyes, and they shone as brightly as the black faceted rock he carried - the Urga-Kor-Naar
Beowuuf let his eyes pass through the man and his disgusting troop, some real Giaks standing fearful in the centre. The temple was dusty, and dark. Once it had perhaps been dedicated to a light purpose, but that was long since over. Ripped tatters of banners to Vashna hung, and below that the blackening of spilt blood and burning stones made the temple dark. The moonlight shining gave eerie play across the flagstones.
Two mages stood on the other side. One radiated agression, perhaps seeming like a mercenary by his garb if one could not also feel the aura of power. The other was still dressed smartly, a doctor if Beowuuf remembered correctly. His power was less tangible - the power of knowledge. Yet it was nevertheless great, the way he quietly stood. Both, named Arbo and Tamerus respectively, in their way were more powerful than the long-coated man who stood as the Second. However, while this man radiated neither the power nor the knowledge of the two behind him, he stood with measures of both as balanced as the magics he weilded. The betrayer of friends and comrades, yet holder to a code of honour, Kollosco was a mystery. The man grinned seeing Beowuuf approach - even the smile balanced, both welcoming and mocking in equal measures.
In the centre stood one the Third. It was dressed in a deep, black cloak and seemed to flit in and out of the shadows without moving, as if the shadows themsleves danced to his words. The thing seemed to be chanting to itself, a hissed litany with a self-congratulatory tone. "Kez gedada ash naog gedada, kez gedada ash naog gedada". The chant only broke twice, the first time for an inhumanly long tongue to snake out of the hood, twirling around the visible blue needle-like claws coming out of its arms to clean the appendages.
The thing was a Nadziran called Namanas that Beowuuf and apparently Kollosco had enountered in Argazad. 'Of all cities and none' it said, and for Nadziranim who were once tied to Darklord masters and their cities that seemed an unusual and powerful statement. The chanting stopped a second time. The thing let one hand drift behind it, trailing a fingernail with a tortured squeal on the ruined stone of the altar at its back. It faced Beowuuf. "One of magic old, one of magic new, and one of man's strength under the blessing of their god. The Three are One under the moon. Ishir must champion what she created and fights for, must allow the balance of Aon to be maintained if offered."
Beowuuf grinned as the Nadziran trailed off. Beowuuf sighed, sad that his ironic huming of the Vakeros battle tune that had been gaining strength was apparently not appreciated in this moment. Dark Walker was at a loss as the moment was punctured, although Kollosco seemed to appreciate the joke. That made Beowuuf's skin crawl, but he did not let that show.
"Ah, Beowuuf," said Kollosco at length, waving down the shifting of the other Two. "You blunder from place to place, with large events happening around you, and yet not even aware of it, thinking yourself the centre when you are nothing but a spinning eddie on the sidelines, spun around and around by the flowing river." Kollosco's gruff delivery finally stopped for air.
"So I have heard, and yet somehow you needed me here at moonrise," said Beowuuf, making sure to look across at Dark Walker. The death knight bristled, and again felt the twinge of fear. This creature standing before Dark Walker and the others was not the Beowuuf that had walked with him in the Darklands, but Dark Walker understood why. However, this too was not the Beowuuf Dark Walker had confronted a few hours before, and Dark Walker could not understand that at all.
"You are not needed spawn-son,, Naar does not need you!" said the death knight with passion, looking to the other Two.
The other Two looked together, and Kollosco shrugged. "Naar may not need Beowuuf," and then Kollosco turned dismissively from Dark Walker to Beowuuf, "but let us say you are wanted, wolf, even if you are of no importance. That should be a familiar feeling to you. Just as something wished disperate groups of Giak and Death Khights to meet at Point Vashna, so too did something want you there. Just as something from Eshnar-"
"-something female," interjected Beowuuf.
"-something female wanted you and would give great power to obtain you-"
"-I think I know why," said Beowuuf brightly, making sure to pitch his offhand comment to disrupt and annoy even the genial and arrogant Kollosco.
Kollosco hardened his face but ignored the comments. "Just as something or someone in the Darklands wanted you dead on my ship," said Kollosco, talking over Beowuuf's happy protestations that it was no longer his ship, "somebody wanted you dead in your own group too."
"I know why too, I know who," said Beowuuf.
Kollosco raised his eyebrow as if doubting the fact, but seemed to relent - giving a dying wolf his last delusion. "Of course you do - then I am sure you will understand the surprise when that mind reached out to us recently. Still, you are here now. Which is well and fortuitous, for when we arrived here, I could not have anticipated with all my investigations who arrived not long afterwards. The one who wanted you here before we could proceed."
"I was here before you, I awaited your coming though I do not know why now," said Dark Walker with derision and aggression and Kollosco's body language. Beowuuf felt the change of the room at the same time as Dark Walker though. The undead Giaks on that side seemed to wilt, and there was a commotion. Without warning, the Giaks living and dead both shuffled scared, splitting as a group to allow through...
"I do not think that was expected," said Beowuuf mostly to Dark Walker. Internally Beowuuf felt a chill. At the figure standing there, and more importantly because he could feel it now. The Three had not been assembled before. Now they were.
Two walked forward through the cowering Giaks, one of powerful build but obviously not the main figure. The other did not have the burning gaze of Dark Walker, the zealot. His eyes were instead dead pools. Both figures walking forwards wore matching uniforms. Beowuuf did not bother to nod the the second obviously lesser fgure - for Crimson Blade was still blind.
"Hello Beowuuf," said Karlnos Flamespear - the First.
Moonrise, Temple of Maaken
"What is the meaning of this?" said Dark Walker with a bellow, looking around angry and confused, shaking in his rage. The man raised the glowing stone, but the fire already died as Karlnos looked over.
"Poor Dark Walker," said Namanas in his amused high pitched hiss, "the tool is not meant to understand. You were merely the instrument to re-ignite Karlnos's own zeal. Were it not for Beowuuf's inneptetude, it would have been Karlnos that took the stone."
Dark Walker laughed in disbelief, but then saw the loook, just as paronising as Beowuuf had received, being directed to him from Kollosco. Despite it all, despite what he must now know of the wolf, Dark Walker looked to Beowuuf. And Beowuuf could feel it, realised what had happened since.
"Karlnos only pushed to Maaken to pursue you," said Beowuuf understanding. "Just when he had abandoned the path at Point Vashna, you stabbed him and pushed us all on." Beowuuf made a mock bow. "Forgive my inneptitude again in not delivering him safely," said Beowuuf to Namanas and Kollosco, takign the time to size up Kollosco.
Karlnos seemed to look at his off arm, moving it stiffly. "I know they are glad of you," said Karlnos. He looked upwards, his dead eyes seemed - even more dead, if that were possible. As if so much rage and life were being internally sucked from his face it was a negative expression. "The Nad-Adez-Konkor removed my allegience to the Darklands, humiliating me. Dark Walker removed my alligience to the Drakkarim, pushing me away from the possibility of redeeming that life in my quest for vegence." At a wave of his hand Karlnos gestured to Dark Walker. The man was still shaking, speechless with rage. The man then started shaking for a different reason. Collapsing holding the stone in his hand, unable to let go, speechless even though all he wished to do was scream. Karlnos looked back to Beowuuf with still dead eyes. "Beowuuf, you were to be last. You removed reason to feel anything. A promise you made and did not keep."
Beowuuf couldn't think what the death knight meant at first. Then he remembered. "We all chose our path. I only pointed out your son was safer with me alive."
Karlnos looked down his nose at Beowuuf. "You made your choice. Seeing my son discarded as carrion, an arrow in his eye, I made mine. Power." Namanas and Kollosco, inperceptibly, seemed to relax.
"So I am here for revenge?" asked Beowuuf amazed. He looked at Karlnos. "You are aligning yourself with these men and Naar, even against your own people, for nothing?"
"Of course," said Kollosco. "Did you think you were wanted for anything greater? Have you not listened - it is never about you, Beowuuf"
"And my people will live or die by their strength," said Karlnos dismissively. "Naar can ascend or be cast down by his. I have nothing. And there is nothing - nothing but power. I will have it. It is the only choice in life."
"Life is choice," said Beowuuf, echoing something he had been told once. Namanas started laughing in a high pitched mocking tone.
"As interesting as this undoubtedly is," said Kollosco to Karlnos growing bored, "perhaps it is time for you to cease your sport with the death knight and remove the wolf in a manner you see fit."
"It is the time for words, wolf," said Karlnos with a dead sneer. "How will you die. If life is choice - choose."
"I made the only choice that matters already," said Beowuuf.
"Bah, to come here? Foolish," said Karlnos. Crimson Blade seemed to shift uncomfortably at that, at the renewed high pitched laughter of Namanas at that.
"No, not that," said Beowuuf shaking his head imperceptibly. "I chose the right traitor to kill."
Kollosco beamed, again genuine and mocking in equal measures. "Well, I am pleased you have found yourself then wolf. It was indeed a susprise to find that you were telling the truth to me, and that you were also lying to yourself, if that be the right spin to put on matters." The sneer came to full effect, hightened by Namanas in the background. "How are we to be scared that you know your true self?"
Karlnos seemed to be the one impatient now, but allowing Kollosco the question. Namanas seemed to not care, still in mirth at the entire affair. The Giaks generally cowered, and Crimson Blade seemed the most intensely curious. The two mages behind Kollosco rolled their eyes. The powerful Arbo looked as if he were about to destroy Beowuuf himself.
"Well?" asked Kollosco again.
"You would not understand, even if that were the correct question. The real question," said Beowuuf slowly and patiently, as if to a child over Namanas's intensified laughter, "is what are the full powers of an unfettered Elder Magi?"
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