Adventures in Eberron> Chapter 32 posted 08-08-05>

Plots and Tribulations, Chapter 30

The nightmares ended. The voices faded to silence, the desperate wretches wandering through mist and shadow forgot about him. Theodyl prayed to Olladra, he still sleeps, but there's a sense of relief. The bard found that his feet touched solid ground. He walked to a cross roads. A four ways sign graces one of the corners, lit by an old fashioned oil lamp. He can recognize the scent of whale's oil. It is a small island of peace amidst roiling fog. Theodyl gathered some kindling and dropped it into an old campfire. He can see a shape moving up the road.

Ivor woke every time that Theodyl shifted. She is afraid that the nightmares will come back to haunt him. So far, whatever Siff did is helping him. Ivor frowned. She is the youngest of the changelings. At nineteen years of age, she is often the last in all of their games. It is odd that Siff expects so much from her. Her fingers brushed the half-elf's brow. What does the Traveler want, she wondered. The sure knowledge that Theodyl will love her back does nothing to lessen the nervous beating of her heart. She hoped for it, she cried for it, and then she prayed. Could Siff be lying? Is she blinded by some game the priestess is playing? No, she cannot risk any kind of doubt. Not if she stands to lose the man that sleeps soundly beside her.

Paragon sheathed his cutlass and laid it beside his new glaive. He's got another three hours of practice to go. He will work without weapons now. A noise drew his attention. There is movement inside Theodyl's room, but his snoring continues unabated.
He caught sight of Ivor peeking out into the hallway. Paragon took up a boxer's stance and let the changeling see his fists blur through unseen enemies. She curled up on one of the soft couches against the wall. Her eyes kept flickering towards Siff's room. The changeling looks afraid.

“Does Theodyl rest?” Paragon decided to break the ice.

“Yeah, Siff did something to help him sleep.” She replied.

“He didn't give you any trouble did he?”

“No, he just kinda ignored me.” Ivor stared at her feet. “He ate all of his biscuits and drank his tea, though..”

“Good, he needed to eat.” Paragon sat on the floor. “A soldier can't fight on an empty stomach.”

“Fight?”

“Yes. Javelin is going to wake him up in two and a half hours for weapon's practice. I don't want him to get soft. Exercise is just what he needs to complete his recovery. Strong body, strong mind.” Paragon told her.

“I don't know about that...” Ivor frowned. She would rather have the bard sleep some more. “He stayed up pretty late with those horrible books.”

“You should join us,” Paragon dismissed her protest. “I think you could stand to learn something new. A dagger in the back isn't the only way to kill a man. I can see you using a rapier or a saber, perhaps.”

“Alright, but if Theodyl gets tired you'll stop. I don't want him getting worse.” She said.

“No, there are no breaks in a real fight. You need to learn that. We have healing wands to deal with any trouble. I will not coddle him if it means that it will cost him his life later. If you care for him, you will help me to make him stronger.”

Ivor fumed. The comment about a dagger in the back was a little off. That last one made her angry. What the hell does a tin man know about caring? Ivor strutted into her room and dressed. She noticed Pook and Patter curled up together. Siff is snoring loudly in her own bed. Ivor slammed the door and hurried to dress. She is damned good with a dagger and her mother taught her to fight with a cane. Ivor snatched Patter's leather vest and rushed towards the lounge. Paragon is going to have to tell her exactly what he's got planed for Theodyl. Siff cursed at the door and rolled over. She would have figured they tired each other out last night.

The stranger sat across from Theodyl. The bard said nothing, it is a crossroads, people walk through them all of the time. The fire is lit, though he doesn't remember when it happened. The stranger warmed his hands. They are as dark as the rest of him. The cloak hides the strangers face despite the light of the fire. Theodyl greeted the man and offered him a drink from is canteen. The stranger drank and offered him a honey cake in exchange.

“It is a long and lonely road we walk....” His visitor spoke.

“....though often the journey has it's own rewards.” Theodyl replied without thinking. The words are from an old tale he's read. He can't remember the title, it bothers him that he can't.

“Spoken like a fellow traveler.” The stranger laughed. The voice sounded hollow, far away and very close at the same time. “When the sun rises take that path away from here.” The stranger pointed.

Theodyl followed the gesture. By the time he turned back to the stranger, he was gone. The bard drank from his canteen and shrugged. This is a strange dream. Not bad, considering what real life has been like. He looked back towards his path to make sure it is still there. You never know.

Javelin picked Theodyl up out of bed and shook him awake. The bard cursed to no avail. As soon as the martial artist had his undivided attention, he was told to report to Paragon in a quarter. Theodyl would have said something but his own, freshly repaired leathers hit him in the face as Javelin exited the room.

“Paragon has your blade, hurry up!” the war-forged said.

A dagger nearly clipped his throat as he stepped into the lounge. Theodyl kicked his attacker and dove forward to avoid an iron wood cane. It's one of the changelings. It seems Paragon is testing him. The dagger plunged towards his face. Theodyl didn't flinch, it is a distraction. He side stepped to avoid being pulled off his feet by the crook of the cane. He sighted his sword.

“You are damned slow.” Paragon growled. “A street urchin would be selling your corpse to the University right now.” The cane nearly brained him. The bard cursed.

Theodyl punched his opponent in the belly. He twisted the dagger from his hand and tried to take the cane. Just as he grabbed hold, the changeling pulled. A long steel blade came away with the handle. Theodyl ended up using the sheath to protect himself from it.

“That was stupid.” Paragon commented from the sidelines. “I have taught you better than that!”

Ivor made the ribbon blade dance. The flexible steel is difficult to control, but it is three times as hard to predict. Theodyl stared at the weapon as one would regard a serpent. Ivor smiled beneath her hood. Paragon will learn not to insult her skills. She flicked her blade downwards striking Theodyl's arm with the flat side. He dropped the wooden sheath. She caught it with her weapon and flipped it into her grasp. A hook projected out of its end. Theodyl is in trouble.

“You are sloppy.” Javelin growled. “You disgust me.”

Theodyl dove for his sword. Paragon kicked the table so that it would drop on the floor away from the bard's reach. Theodyl nearly got skewered by the changeling while trying to retrieve it. Paragon insulted him again and again. Theodyl started to sing a spell, but a painful swat from Javelin put a stop to him.

“NO MAGIC!” The war-forged snapped.

The changeling took the opportunity to press the attack. Theodyl took a wound to the shoulder from the hook at the end of the sheath. The serpent-like blade nearly cut his face to ribbons. He growled as the hot blood poured over his skin. He stepped forward, ducking under his opponent's slashing steel. His own heavier blade caught the wooden sheath and nearly clove it in half. The changeling kicked at him. The ribbon blade pierced his thigh. Theodyl saw red. His sword slashed across, nearly taking the changeling's head. He kicked out and charged forward while his opponent tried to gain his balance. His sword is ready to spear the changeling. A blow to the head put a stop to him.

“ANGER WEAKENS A SOLDIER!!!” Javelin struck him again. “A SOLDIER IS ALWAYS PREPARED!!!” Theodyl tried to duck, too late. “FIGHT SMART OR DIE!!!” They let him lie on the floor until he caught his breath. Paragon let go of Ivor and let him give Theodyl a drink.

“You are all insane!!” She screamed. “What the hell was that about?!”

“Do you honestly think that I care about your opinion?” Paragon growled. “In the last two weeks we have met with renegades, the undead, Hussars, wizards, and dragons.” Paragon picked up Ivor's ribbon blade. He made a point of imitating every move he made while fighting Theodyl. “If he expects to survive, he needs to fight better, faster and smarter.” Paragon sheathed the weapon and tossed it back to the changeling.

“You didn't have to hurt him!” She spat.

“There are people who will hunt him just for being born. And that doesn't include the folk that he's pissed off in the last week.” Javelin spoke to her while he eyed the other changelings skulking out of their rooms. “He is one of us. If we don't help him to be a better soldier, he will die. We are brothers, this is the best we can do for him.”

“What the hell is going on?!” Pook pulled out a short sword.

“Enough!!” Theodyl screamed. “Are you alright Ivor?”

“Yeah.....sure...” The changeling met his eyes and lost his train of thought.

“Paragon is a bit rough, but he means well.” Theodyl tried to explain. “He wouldn't do anything to hurt me, I trust him.” Paragon harrumphed. “He is right about the dangers I face. Don't let him bully you, though. The only time you should be scared is when he stops talking. That's when he's dangerous.”

“Break time is over.” Javelin announced. “Ivor, Theodyl, weapons out. I will demonstrate the proper form once. You will follow my movements. When you make a mistake I will hurt you and then we will start over. No talking, no excuses, and no more breaks.” The war-forged glared at them until they obeyed. “You should know that I am dangerous every moment of every day. Now get ready!”

Paragon left to go get breakfast from the dining car. They are going to be hungry after Javelin is done. Ivor needs to learn about real life. If she is to be a proper mate for Theodyl she will have to be strong. The training will create a warrior's bond, something different from what she shares with the other changelings. They did it in the Cannith Training Halls and they do it with every army across the continent. In a few weeks she will start to think and feel differently about her loyalties. Paragon intends to make her stronger also. If she is afraid of her friends, of death, or of her God, she isn't going to be good enough. Paragon doesn't want it to get to that point. Theodyl may not forgive him for what happens.

Back in the City of Sharn......

Caras stared at the slowly filling hole in the middle of his base of operations. The wizard likes to pretend that it isn't there. The Hussars can't forget. Marat has been digging through the boxes that his men retrieved from the archives. The name Theodyl Vair caused quite a stir towards the end of the war. The records had four different seals upon them. The Great War Tribunal and House Deneith were the most prominent above all. The Twelve were not very happy, they must have had to call in some favors among their Houses. Marat doesn't care, if they want to know, they have to pay.

Paragon's records are due any day now. House Cannith is dragging their feet. It will take another two days to dig through Theodyl's life, anyway. Marat has read the synopsis, it chills his blood. Theodyl was put to the question for thirty-seven days. A cleric was there to confirm the truth of his words. An Adept from House Jorasco kept him alive in between the sessions. The half-elf told the same story every day for the entire interrogation. According to Hored of the Silver Flame, the subject neither lied nor altered his statements in any way. There is a notarized request to have the prisoner examined for taint and tried for heresy, twice denied. The Healer from House Jorasco had to be replaced. The prisoner sang in his cell every night, it drove the healer mad. One of the torturers committed suicide after attempting to murder his partner. The prisoner was gagged from then on.

General d'Deneith used an artifact to enhance the command of his troops. His reputation for winning battles by sacrificing his troops took an entirely new meaning. House Deneith owns a number of similar items, but the Articles of War forbid their use within the Five Nations. Theodyl passed sentence on the General in a way that will never be forgotten by anyone who witnessed it. The Tribunal passed a death sentence, then suspended their decision when Theodyl offered up the Deneith General's location. He was only willing to give the information in exchange for first his life and then the destruction of the General's Rod of Command. The General was technically guilty but, as an Heir and a Noble, the man would never have seen justice. Still, turning the man to stone and dropping him in a hole was something beyond justice, it was vengeance.

“Caras, you should read this.” Marat called out to the Hussar. “Our elf-blooded friend has a history of dirty negotiations.”

The report on General d'Deneith's restoration made the wizard break out into a sweat. His hands were missing, along with his Signet Ring and his nose. In ancient times, at the edges of the Empire of Galifar, a convicted thief lost his hands. A man who betrayed his post, an oath breaker, lost his nose. The half-elf made no further statements, but he openly laughed at the Tribunal as he walked out accompanied by one Paragon, a war-forged contracted to be his bodyguard and a fellow Longstrider.

Fourteen Deneith retainers died in attempts to avenge the General over the course of six months. It seems that Theodyl disappeared just after that. There is a footnote stating that he was seen in Sharn but nothing else. By then House Deneith was busy destroying the half-elf's military career and black listing him among the Houses. Marat can see why so many of Sharn's Houses felt the sting during the mess in the sewers. He can also see that Theodyl Vair may be just as dangerous as Caras thinks he is.

“I think that I will contact House Deneith,” Marat said to Caras. “The Blademarks have a previous history with Theodyl. While we finish up here, they can give chase.”

“The Hussars are better than the Blademarks.” Caras scowled at the wizard. The commander flipped open the file the wizard gave him. “I think you owe us a chance to redeem ourselves.”

“You'll have it.” Marat replied, “It seems that Theodyl killed fourteen of them after his trial. I doubt they will slow him for long.”

The Rain in Thrane, Chapter 31

Thrane is just another stop for the Lightning Rail. For some reason, they act like it is an invasion. A dozen inspectors, each accompanied by a guard went through the Rail cars from end to end. Theodyl was ready for them. When Juno knocked on his door, the old widow was waiting.

“Oh my! We have a visitor!” The old woman crooned. Juno's nose twitched. “Do come in young man....girl's, some tea please.”

“This really won't take long, Madame.” The conductor tried to make excuses. “The inspectors are here, I just needed to collect your Identity Papers. That way they will not disturb your privacy.” Theodyl pretended not to understand. The attendants brought out a tray of tea and biscuits. The tea set looked expensive, Juno forced a smile and took a seat.

“Tell me about this ferry business, young man, I'm afraid I have never been on a boat.” One of the attendants, served him. Juno noticed how threadbare the servant's clothing looked when compared to the rich cut of the widow's dress. The old woman's jewelry is absolutely dazzling. She must be very rich. “What can I do to preserve my dignity among the low born water-kin?”

Juno tried not to laugh. The woman is behind the times by several generations. It has been years since he's heard such language. Modern day snobbery is much more subtle, in his opinion. To his credit, he kept a straight face as he offered to arrange for a private crossing. He stands to make a good percentage over the real price for a charter. As it stands, the Inspectors from Thrane have doubled their take.

Inspector Sanner let himself into Theodyl's suite. His guard stayed at the door, this is the last car on his list. Juno is late with his payment. The smell hit him at much the same time as the old woman's voice. Conductor Juno is sitting there with a cup of tea in his hand and a look of utter despair. Inspector Sanner didn't have the time to say anything before the obviously addled woman invited him to a cup of tea.

“Oh! What a strapping young man!” The old woman talked fast, typical of the lonely widow type. “My husband wore armor...Are you a knight? My son was a knight.....” Sanner drank his tea and ate his biscuit. The cuirass is just for decoration, he's no soldier. The smell of whatever the hell the woman is wearing is starting to make his head spin.

“So, Madame, what brings you to Thalinost?” Sanner tried to get on with business.

“I am traveling to the Mror Holds,” She beamed at him. “My physicians tell me that the fresh mountain air will do wonders for my lungs.” Sanner's nose twitched but he struggled to maintain his decorum. Juno is looking desperately in his direction.

“Err, Juno, have you the collection for the orphanage?” It was a desperate ploy, Sanner prayed the fool would take the hint. “I will be passing by to visit this week, the headmistress can really use the money.”

“Orphanage?” The widow halted her ruminations. “Oh, I weep for the little ones.....Tell me, where is this place? I would love to visit. I miss my children terribly!” Juno rolled his eyes while Inspector Sanner tried in vain to distract the old woman.

“Perhaps, Madame, you would care to make a small donation?” Juno finally said. The old woman's war-forged escort turned to glare at the two of them. The attendants tried to guide their Mistress away from the subject.

“No, no, no.” Inspector Sanner interjected. “I would not be so crass as to solicit donations from the Lady.” Juno raised an eyebrow. “It wouldn't be proper, not proper at all.” The Inspector stood up and pulled Juno out of his chair. “I am honored to have made your generous acquaintance, Madame. You are cleared to disembark.”

Theodyl was grinning as soon as the door shut. Pook handed him a gold coin, Javelin collected from the others. The bard held the two men prisoner for a good three quarters of an hour. Even Javelin thought that it wouldn't be possible. Paragon let himself out of the closet and glared at them all. He told them to get rid of them fast, not to place bets.

“What the hell was that about?” Paragon demanded.

“Just testing the waters...Posie, what did you learn?” Theodyl's old lady voice queried. The changeling jumped at the surprise question.

“Mmm, that Juno's contact is an Inspector named Sanner...” Pook replied hoping it was the right answer.

“Patty?”

“That the Inspector has something over Juno?”

“Siff?”

“That the Inspector is afraid of something, maybe Juno said something that scared him.....”

“Eve?”

“Huh? I don't know.....was he afraid to take our money?”

“You guys are supposed to be paying attention.” The old woman scolded. “I need a foot rub.” Theodyl took his feet off the wheel chair stirrups and kicked off the square toed granny shoes. “The Inspector didn't want to take our money. Juno may have put him at risk for soliciting, or he may be afraid that it was a set up. He's corrupt enough to take money from Juno, maybe he couldn't take money from an old lady. We now know that this Sanner fellow will take a bribe, and we know that he is afraid of exposure....”

“So you can blackmail him?” Paragon spoke up.

“Precisely. We also found out that there are discrete ways across the water from Juno's sales pitch. Also, the Inspector arrived before we made payment, it's drinking money now, I say.” Theodyl smiled.

“So what did I miss?” Pook frowned.

“Juno has a prisoner's brand on his wrist. That is Sanner's leverage.” The bard wiggled his toes at his attendants. “If I remember correctly, a man wearing such a mark gets the rope the next time he gets caught. Now start rubbing.”

“I think not,” Paragon growled. “this lesson isn't over yet. I want them to go and find out for sure. There could be other's connected to Juno's scheme, knowing that could give us a better advantage. Give them twelve hours to confirm your guesses.”

“That's a great idea.” Theodyl stared at his feet, wiggling his toes to annoy the changelings. “We should give prizes for creativity, cooperation, stealth, and viable results.”

“Whomever satisfies Theodyl's requirements will get two days off from training.” Paragon kicked Theodyl out his chair. “Ready yourself, I want to see how well you can use that spear of yours.” The changelings hurried to leave, Paragon has been playing rough lately. Two days away from the nightmare that the war-forged call training is worth the hassle.

Theodyl didn't bother doing anything other than changing into a nightshirt. He can tell Paragon wants to talk. The war-forged is about as paranoid as a dragon sitting on a bed of treasure. The bard would complain, except for the number of times that same paranoia has saved his skin. He trusts Paragon, Dol Dorn will wear a dress and put daisies in his hair before that changes. Theodyl smiled at his friend, the war-forged started to worry.

“I have been in contact with Pyrus.” Paragon sat on the floor. “The ankle bracelet we removed from your person detonated his laboratory.”

“Oh...” The bard tried not to grin. “How much is he charging us?”

“No jokes. Read this. Pyrus did some preliminary research on your family background. It isn't good, so far.” Paragon drew a scroll case from inside the stove. “This is a report on one Devee Vair a distant cousin to the d'Vol family. She was an elf, formerly some sort of envoy or herald to the Elven Court. She was married to one Shever Morgain d'Phierlan, also an elf, they had four children. They were all purged except for one male, the oldest, name unknown.”

“You say, he may be my father?” Theodyl made a face. “Stargazer said my father worked for House Lyrandar. How can we find out for sure?”

“I still have friends in Sharn.” Paragon suggested. “Morik and Fist still work as Inquisitives, we should hire them.”

“The ones that you hired to follow me around?” Theodyl pouted. “They are going to need a bodyguard.”

“The dwarf is no slouch and Fist is a Longstrider, why do they need a bodyguard?” Paragon protested. “You don't want to insult them.”

“Every big time Inquisitive needs a bodyguard,” Theodyl rolled his eyes at having to explain the obvious. “It is a matter of making the right impression. Besides an Inquisitive that can't afford some help doesn't have the right status. I want the best. There is a fellow that I know about.....”

“And who would that be?” The war-forged shook his head. “They would have to be damned tough to impress those two.”

“Longtooth, from the Gorgon's Eye. He's perfect.” Theodyl assured his friend. “Marik and Fist couldn't find a better man or beast.”

“Done. Now I have some questions. How do you kill a lich? Who is this Traveler God the changelings pray to? And what exactly can we do about this Geas the lich tangled you with?”

Theodyl sighed. Paragon has a bad habit of saving up his questions and then unleashing them at the oddest of times. The bard spent an hour describing a phylactery and it's functions, as far as he knew. Paragon fixated on finding Mooneye's phylactery and destroying it. Once the war-forged finds a threat, eliminating it becomes an obsession. Theodyl tried to explain other details, but he finally gave up and went on to the next question. The Traveler turned out to be a difficult subject. Paragon interrupted frequently with further questions. For some reason, Paragon wanted to know if Theodyl has ever sought Him out. The bard laughed, he's devoted to Olladra, nothing will lead him away.

“What about the Geas” Paragon changed the subject.

The bard frowned. The Geas is like a set of chains draped over his spirit. It took him a moment to find the right words. Paragon had difficulty believing that it could not be broken. Theodyl explained that he felt the will of Aureon behind the lich's spell. As he understands the process, he would have to petition the God directly for release. He is afraid that such an act will require further obligations. The truth is that if the Sovereign Host want something, his choices are limited. It would be easier to fulfill the Geas and move on. He doesn't care for Necromancy, personally, but the knowledge bears directly on his current predicament.

“Don't make excuses, I won't see you go the way of those Karrnathi ghouls!” Paragon threatened. “Think about what you are doing because I will be watching.”

“I'm not the type to play with dead things.” Theodyl frowned.

“But you are the type to get into trouble. You poke your nose where you shouldn't and worse, often you do things just because!” Paragon hit the floor with his fist.

Theodyl decided to change the subject then. He's already come to a decision about the book of Necromancy. The Geas tells him to learn, not to practice. The bard can work with that. The other books are not a problem. When combined with other books in his library, they are a valuable resource to a fledgling wizard. Theodyl should have the first of the new spells in another month. The notation is giving him trouble, but he's found a solution. When he transcribes the spells into something closer to music, everything is going to be much easier.

“Watch me if you will.” Theodyl smiled. In five years, Mooneye is going be very surprised. “I promise you, no disappointments.” Paragon stuck out his hand, Theodyl grasped it. The war-forged met the half-elf's eyes and shook on it. Theodyl may twist the words around, but he won't break a deal.

******

The changelings spent nearly three hours arguing about their assignment. Pook wanted to seduce Juno. Ivor thought it would be a bad idea, Siff agreed. Patter wanted to play a confidence game. Pook agreed with him only because Siff was siding with Ivor. It took another hour of Pook and Patter suggesting different combinations and the other two taking the ideas apart before they had a working plan.

The Lightning Rail waited at Thalinost, Juno spent his time cursing Inspector Sanner while at the same time, trying to figure out how to be rid of him. The Conductor stared at the brand on his wrist. Normally, it is hidden by the starched cuffs of his uniform. In Thrane, however it is unlawful to cover such a mark. Once the Inspectors knew about it, they kept on him until they found something wrong. Thrane has laws, but there is no law that protects a former convict from things even a foreigner wouldn't have to endure. In short they want money, every time they see him.

“Excuse me, Juno?” A woman approached the brooding Conductor in the dining car. Juno looked to the Hostess, she's supposed to keep his privacy, well, private. She is busy speaking to three other women. Juno recognized them, they are the old widow's attendants. “W-what do you want?” He asked nervously.

“We just wanted to get to know you a little better.” Siff smiled, she is wearing a chaste, but form fitting dress. She made a hand sign and frowned when he didn't understand. “You are not a Brother, are you?”

“I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about.” Juno got very nervous. “Please, let me be.” The woman made several other signs, no response.

“Neither are you a Fellow, or a Lark.” Siff continued. “You are not a Whistler or a Knave. No wonder the Flamer can push you around. You don't have a Guild behind you.”

“Guild......” Juno changed colors. “There are no G-Guilds in Thrane.”

“A shame, really.” Siff smiled again. “The old woman is a friend of a friend. Her family is very concerned with her Health and her Fortune, we are tasked with the job of keeping her away from bad influences and worse relatives. There are a lot of unscrupulous types out there who would take advantage of an old woman.” Juno felt his mouth go suddenly dry.

“I-I-I w-would never.....” Juno started. “I mean to say, that I'm sorry.” The brand on his wrist started to itch. An old witch once told him it is just his imagination, but it feels real to him.

“I want to believe you, really I do.” Siff smiled, but her eyes bore into Juno. “But you are a convict with a brand, and you have no one to Speak for you. Sadly, you also have a Flamer pulling you about on a leash.....”

“Don't, please.” Juno wiped the sweat from his brow. “I can handle the Inspector, he's greedy, but he doesn't like to dirty his hands. I can offer you contacts, I have connections with the House, they got me this job. Sometimes, I handle special arrangements for them. They tell me things that no one else knows and I can pass this on to you....”

“Saeffa,” Siff brushed his hand. “of the Faceless.” Juno felt a cold dread pierce his heart. The Faceless were a Guild of Assassins from Sharn. They were wiped out by the City Watch just after the war. It was very public. From that day on, the Guilds outside the law have kept their heads down. The Faceless have not been heard from since.

“....” Juno moved his lips, but no sound came out. Saeffa smiled at him again. “Are you going to kill me?” She pouted. “I have some....”

“No bribes.” Siff smiled inwardly. The man is terrified. “The Flamer, tell me about him.”

Pook, Patter, and Ivor kept a silent vigil on Siff's meeting. The got a table close enough to over hear most of the action. Among the changelings of Sharn, the Faceless are legend. They ruled the under city with subtlety and terror. No other could rise against them because all others served the Faceless, one way or the other. When the war came to an end, and the powers of the city turned inward, the Faceless refused to give up what they had claimed. After decades of careful planning and boundless profits, their own clients turned against them. The Nobles, the Guilds and their House masters, the City Council, all of them turned and drove their knives in. Siff has always told stories about the Faceless. They were led by changelings and the Traveler blessed their works.

“Now tell me about you.” Saeffa continued her casual interrogation. Juno is held by his own fears, hopes, and assumptions. The Traveler teaches that men forge their own chains thus. “How did you come to earn your brand.”

*****

Inspector Sanner sat in his office and reviewed his reports. The bureaucracy of Thrane expects paper, long words, and proper stamping, just above the signature. Sanner frowned, he hates paperwork. It took him a moment, but eventually he noticed someone sitting across from his desk. Inspector Sanner was about to say something nasty until he noticed the finely crafted badge on the man's chest.

“How may I be of service Ser Orien?” The Inspector stood and greeted his visitor.

“I have a small problem with one of our properties.” The man said. “A man by the name of Juno has not been doing his job properly. My sources tell me that you have been distracting him.”

“The convict?” Sanner scoffed.

“House Orien's convict.” The man raised an eyebrow. “He keeps track of certain kinds of travelers for us. Last month, he failed to notice a certain undesirable and it caused the House some...difficulty. What precisely is your business with our convict, and why do you presume to interfere with our operations?” The Inspector's hands shook, but he showed no other sign of weakness.

“I assure you, my office has no interest in House Orien's activities.” Sanner improvised. “The man bears a brand, we merely wanted to keep an eye on him, he is a criminal after all.”

“We've had him followed. He is making regular payments to you. I wager that your office is unaware of these transactions. Further, you and Juno are reported to have Solicited donations to some orphanage from one of our passengers. Very bad form, House Orien is very strict about that kind of abuse.”

“Please, I assure you, such was not my intention. Juno made the request, I made it a point to keep it from going any further.” Sanner is scared. The man frowned for a moment. “I am willing to believe you. This need not go any further.”

“What do you want?” Sanner sighed, he knew this would cost him.

“Nothing much. Juno will continue providing special services, for which he will give you 5%, for the orphans.” Sanner cringed. “From time to time he will require help dealing with passengers we don't care for. Or perhaps a client will require a connection in Thalinost. You will assist him.”

“But don't you have people to that for House Orien?” Sanner whined.

“Yes, but it is expensive, you can do it for free.” The man sneered. “The House, will of course provide you with certain considerations. Juno will gladly assist you, within House regulations, of course.”

Inspector Sanner had no choice. Thrane is very strict about commerce with the Houses. His reputation could be ruined, his family would not survive. Sanner accepted House Orien's terms and watched the man stand up, then disappear. If the House Badge, wasn't enough to convince him, a display of teleportation certainly is. The inspector walked out of his office and made for the first tavern he could find. Patter padded right behind, hidden by his Ring of Invisibility. He is sure that he can talk Paragon into a week's vacation from training.

*****

Juno spent a very uneasy two hours in his room. Normally, conductors share, four to a suite. He's managed to buy out the others. No one witnessed the visitors when they come. Saeffa came with the others. Juno is still afraid, but he is alive. Good enough.

“We have negotiated your release from the Flamer.” The Faceless smiled at him. “He believes you serve House Orien as an agent, now. He will not risk their wrath.”

“What?” Juno reeled.

“Indeed, we have also lowered your obligation to 5%. His 15% was too much, especially with you doing all the work. He will be more helpful now, as well. You should expect the usual free meals and such from him, but he will not interfere with your work anymore. Happy?”

“But I didn't ask for this!” The conductor protested.

“Believe me,” Saeffa patted his shoulder. “it is for the best. The Faceless could use a man with your connections. The Lightning Rail touches many lands.”

“What do you want?” Juno felt his heart drop. “The House knows about me, I can't do anything out of the ordinary.”

“And you won't.” Saeffa assured him. “We want information. We want a way to transport bits and pieces from one place to another. Can you do that for us? You can be a valuable resource along this Rail Line. You could be one of us.”

“Yeah, I can do that....” Juno gave in, he is tired of working alone. “What do I have to do?”

Siff took charge. Patter handed Juno a package and a few letters. He is to mail them anonymously once he reaches Sharn. Ivor taught the conductor three different hand signs as well as a verbal sign and counter sign. When they left, Pook stayed behind.

“Saeffa tells me you got caught in noble's treasury with your hands on his daughter......” Posie purred from the top of Juno's bed. “I like a daring man....”

Juno tried to answer, but the seductive scent of roses overwhelmed his thoughts. Pook took charge then. Ivor and Siff are running towards the freight cars. While Siff was talking, Ivor stole one of the conductor's uniforms. With luck, the changeling will be able to impersonate Juno if he doesn't pass Pook's more subtle interrogation. Theodyl has taught them a lot.

*****

Siff is the oldest. She was fifteen when she bought the other's out of the sweat factory the head mistress ran in the basement of Saint Othea's Orphanage in Sharn. She had escaped and, in three years, she had saved enough to come back and buy three other children. Siff was disappointed that she couldn't save more, the headmistress was a greedy old hag. She charged more for Ivor because she was still a virgin. Siff never got that mercy.

Her family died by fire, a fact that secretly endears her to Theodyl. That night, she was a terrified twelve year old girl. Siff had crawled into a tiny stone chamber beneath fireplace in her room. A week later she crawled out from the ruins of her family's manor and skulked into the alleyways of the under city. She had a knife, a money belt stuffed with silver, and a strange knapsack that could hold an entire pantry of food and drink. It was her mother's. For emergencies, she had said. The night the City Watch purged the Faceless Guild, many orphans were saved by Saint Othea's Orphanage.

The Traveler answered her prayers shortly after escaping the orphanage. A dark man took her under his wing after about a month of struggling in the dark alleys and sewers. He taught her to pick pockets, cheat at dice, and to climb into a noble's home to steal. Her Teacher was a blackmailer who considered burglary a pleasing hobby. He became her father. The man taught her how to reach out for the Traveler's blessings. A year later, he became her first lover. Two years later he became her first heartbreak. By then she had lived decades worth of life in a very short amount of time.

Siff planned to rob him out of spite. That day she found him dead, inside his own closet. She never new his real name. His savings and whatever else she scraped up paid for Patter, Pook, and Ivor's freedom. They became her gang. She often worries that they are soft, but she can't deny that they are talented. Patter reminds her of her older brother, he's her most frequent lover. The Traveler has kept them alive since. They are as close to a family as he can hope for. Theodyl is a new addition. Siff is cunning, but the bard is in a category all his own. His genius has propelled them to the top, but he is also liable to get them killed with his excessive nature. To her mind, he is a puzzle. Theodyl is a pointy-eared source of awe and frustration. The Traveler likes him too.

The others are waiting. Theodyl and Paragon must have beaten each other senseless. Paragon's new armor plate is scored and he is bleeding. Theodyl is still bruised despite the use of a potion and a charge from a healing wand. Javelin looks like the bard managed to use some of his magic. Siff let Pook make their presentation, he's been taking the reins of leadership lately. Patter is smart, but he prefers to play. Ivor is talented but flighty. Siff thinks that she could make a fine cleric if she made the effort to develop her faith.

“Well! I am very impressed!” Theodyl beamed. He took their operation apart over a period of two hours. The bard examined everything with a critical eye. If he let anything pass, Paragon would demand more explanations. Towards the end, everyone but Siff was convinced that they had, somehow, failed.

“Paragon, I think we should do as Patter suggests.” The bard announced dramatically. “They have earned a week of rest.”

“Harrumph, don't think that you can weasel out of your own training!” Paragon nudged Theodyl. “I am proud of your progress, lads.” He said to the changelings. They drank and ate from a tray of delightfully chilled plums. It was a sleepy gathering until the bard spoke up.

“I have a thought,” Theodyl made conversation. “We have a very unique opportunity with our friend Juno. It would benefit our enterprise to have a small network in place to help us conduct private business.”

“You know that is not in our Business Plan.” Paragon shot down the idea.

“Nonsense. I am a wanted outlaw, we need to take certain precautions, make friends etc. Besides, the competition is fierce.” Theodyl continued. “Every House keeps a spy in their stables.”

“I think that you are playing another game here.” Paragon challenged the half-elf. “What exactly do you have in mind? Speak up, you would chatter into the night if we let you.”

“I want to continue publishing the Sharn Anonymous.” Theodyl announced to his audience. “My upcoming tour through the continent of Khorvaire will provide ample material. Your network must safely and successfully deliver my words to Sharn before I am satisfied of it's success.”

“You are chattering again.” Paragon warned. He's starting not to like Theodyl's thinking. “Why exactly should I help you accomplish this?”

“The lads can hone their talents completing the links to a network that will stretch along the Lightning Rail.” Theodyl's eyes glittered. “The venture would be an asset to us. I also think that they deserve to take an active and equal role within our enterprise. They are ready Paragon.”

“They still hit the training floor too often for my liking.” The war-forged complained. “As long as their skills continue to improve, I will support your decision.”

Siff fought not to show her surprise. She had a vague idea about spreading the Faceless legend when she conned the conductor. Theodyl took it a step further. Patter was smiling like a fool. Ivor and Pook are absolutely beaming.

“When do you want us to start?” Pook took the initiative.

“No rush,” Theodyl smiled. “The rail comes and goes virtually every week. These things take time and, you still don't have a plan.” Patter and Pook mobbed Siff. All three of them started talking at once. They are already working on a few ideas. Paragon jumped in. Ivor casually backed away. She picked Theodyl's door and let herself in. Theodyl threw in several morsels to fuel his friend's lively conversation and then used their divided attentions to follow after his lover.

Crossing Karrnath, Chapter 32

House Deneith did not respond as rapidly as Marat expected. It took their librarians several days to find out what his letter was talking about. It took nearly a week to get one of the Heirs to look at the report. The letter was specifically addressed to one Shiren d'Deneith of the Blademarks, but of course, others managed to get a copy right along the line. Every clerk and scribe is a spy for somebody. Lord Shiren ignored the letter until he heard that Baron Breven d'Deneith openly denounced wasting House resources on a vendetta. It was enough to get him to read Marat's letter, as well as the report from the House Deneith archives.

“Seneschal, get me the Captain.” Lord Shiren called out. “Also, get me the names of the men in the detention halls. And inform Lady Vea that I wish to consult with her.”

The Seneschal allowed himself to shudder once he was at a safe distance from his Lord. Lady Vea is a Cleric of Vol, there is something wrong about her. He sent a page to
the prison and then saw to the Lady personally. She is a guest, and his master expects her to be treated as an Heir.

Two days later......

Theodyl nearly cooked inside his old widow disguise. Paragon found a ferry that was crewed by war-forged and managed to get a nice deal on the crossing. Juno must have passed Pook's interrogation, the changeling was bragging about his skills to the others. The bard decided the shape shifter was younger than he originally thought. He's not had a chance to brag since the war. Bragging was like a jinx, the Longstriders were very superstitious. Theodyl doesn't miss the habit.

The Mror Holds is still far away. Paragon made a separate arrangement for his lads from the freight car. Once that was out of the way Paragon started to make preparations to cross Karrnath. The war is over, and the citizens of the nation aren't his enemies any longer. Paragon is well aware of that. But that knowledge makes absolutely no difference. Paragon supplied the gang with blessed silver daggers, iron bars, ash wood stakes, and various talismans. Theodyl tried to explain that most of the country is populated with real flesh and blood people. Paragon is still fixated on the Karrnathi Dead as well as their ghoulish handlers. The bard is not against destroying them, it's just that the war-forged wouldn't stop at just one or two.

“Paragon, we can't invade a bone keep. With luck, we could find work along the border and kill a few then.” Theodyl tried to distract his friend.

“I'm not planning an invasion.” Paragon dismissed Theodyl's weak ploy. “I have heard that vampires still haunt the land in between the villages....”

“And we shall never know for sure because we are riding a train.” The bard pointed out. “You don't want any trouble between now and the Mror Holds right?”

“Harrumph, just keep an eye out.” Paragon warned his friends. “They are sneaky, and you never know when they will strike.”

Theodyl did nothing to renew the subject. He remembers how it was. Paragon is just trying to keep them alive, and he doesn't know when to stop. He was about to give out some busy work so that he could go back to his books, when one of the House Orien Porters dropped off a Korrenberg Chronicle. On the cover, towards the bottom, a headline made his heart skip a beat.

“House Deneith formally declares a Vendetta.” Theodyl read out loud.

A formal letter from one Lord Shirin d'Deneith denouncing one Lt. Theodyl Vair of the Cyre Longstriders for crimes against one General Arquet d'Deneith followed. It must be legal in Karrnath to pursue a blood debt publicly. The article further states that the Blademarks are offering a sizable reward for information leading to Theodyl Vair's capture.

“Let me see that.” Paragon ripped the paper from the bard's grasp. “What does this mean? Didn't we settle this before?”

“No, we just killed them.” Theodyl pouted. “We took their shiny badges along with their blades and then we ran.”

“We should attack first.” Paragon mused. “It is a declaration of war. Are there Articles governing Vendettas?”

“Are you serious?” Pook gawked at Paragon.

“He's very serious.” Theodyl started digging through his disguise kit. “I don't want to fight a war with House Deneith Paragon.” The war-forged harrumphed. “The Houses don't play fair. We should watch out for assassins, but I don't see the use of taking the fight to them.”

“We are not weak.” Paragon protested. “Hitting them now would be a sound strategy. I doubt they will come at us one at a time again. Running will waste our energies and let the enemy choose the battle field, you know this, it's in your books!”

“I am not running. They don't know where I am, so we have time to choose our battles.” Theodyl caught himself talking like the war-forged. He cringed. “Listen, we have to get to the Mror Holds. We can disappear again. Now that this Lord Shirin has made this blasted announcement he is going to have to deliver or lose face before the Heirs.”

“That still sounds like running. We should at least find out about this Lord Shirin, try to find out what kind of forces he is willing to commit against us. If we can know that, we can have a better idea of how to mount a war against him.”

“Fine,” Theodyl growled. Paragon is impossible. “Tonight you can help me draft a formal letter in reply. If this fool wants to put his career on the line for my neck, then I am willing to help him go down in flames.” Theodyl heard a voice in his mind telling him that he is making a mistake. Common sense is going to have to wait a little longer to be heard. “Siff, take your lads and scout the competition, information only. No foolish risks.”

“I expected more of a fight from you.” Paragon said.

“House Deneith never suffered from the General's fall.” Theodyl stared at the floor. “We can embarrass them some more, perhaps.”

“I am very familiar with Deneith fighting forms, tactics, and their most recent training regiments.” Javelin looked up from his meditation. “They have an open court at their Sharn Mercenary Recruitment and Training Center. I don't think they cared if the locals watched them train. Foolish.”

“Excellent, we can start tonight.” Paragon pulled Javelin to his feet.

“You can start tonight.” Theodyl said as he hurried into his room. “I have to study. A few spells might make a difference. Besides, the letter can't write itself.”

Theodyl sang to drown out the sounds of two war-forged beating into each other mercilessly. His translation of the necromantic spells is complete. There are only one or two that he is willing to use. He's improved his Shield spell, and he's managed to speed his casting of Spirit Armor. Once he masters a summoning spell, his study of extra planar magics will begin in earnest. Paragon is going to be impressed.

The letter came to him just as boredom struck. He put away his scrolls and pulled out a few precious pieces of vellum. They came out of House Sivis, they provide watermarked stationary to the Houses. These have a House Deneith emblem embossed on the top. They are perfect. All he needs is a few words graciously acknowledge the vendetta, and to establish the pecking order.

Ser Deneith,

I have received word of your intentions to avenge your General. Please rest assured that the General got everything he deserved. I am disappointed to see that the practice of inter-marriage is still active within House ranks. Perhaps, if you did not suffer from such ill breeding you would have realized what a craven coward the General proved to be in the field of battle. By using that infernal artifact, he denied good fighting men their free will, he betrayed his post, and he violated the sanctity of his office. He is also a murderer decorated with medals that he did not earn. One of the main reasons I did not kill him, is that he was too drunk and senseless to provide for a proper duel. I suggest that if you continue to pursue me, that you not send any particularly valuable members of your House.

A blessing upon your enemies,

Lt. Theodyl Vair, Cyre's 1st Regiment Longstriders, Retired.

Theodyl read the letter twice. He took care to deny Lord Shirin d'Deneith his title and and his status as a Dragon Marked Heir. He also wrote the letter using a familiar tense. To a Noble it is an insult. Theodyl might as well call him a common dog. The attack on the Lord's breeding will add further insult.

“What do you think, Paragon?” The bard asked.

“I thought you didn't want a war.” The war-forged eyed the half-elf suspiciously. “This is practically a glove to the face, I've read about duels.”

“By denying the General's guilt he is murdering the Longstriders all over again.” Theodyl frowned.

“So, do you want to raid his manor?” Paragon insisted. “We have enough men for a thorough job. You used to love planning raids.”

“No, I want to see his reaction first.” Theodyl said. “If he ignores my insults and takes the time to prepare, then we will know him as worthy enemy.”

“And if he doesn't?” Paragon asked.

“It doesn't matter, I intend to harass him publicly.” Theodyl smiled. “If he foams at the mouth, it will be easier to discredit him among his peers and the world at large.”

“So when do I get to kill Blademarks!?” Paragon growled. “None of what you say sounds anything like a plan of attack!”

“Nonsense, this is an action on multiple fronts. We attack his public image and destroy his assassins. We can further confuse the issue by providing a running commentary through the papers, and through a few songs I intend to spread through the taverns. The true details of the General's crime against the troops of the Five Nations will do for a start. I have a copy of my letter and a transcript of the trial ready for the Chronicle.”

“You are making this up as you go along, aren't you?” Paragon shook his head.

“Have I ever failed you?” Theodyl smiled. “Trust me. You do trust me don't you?” Paragon refused to answer.

Paragon left Theodyl to his books. He is beginning to regret sending his lads away on a separate transport. With the changelings off, learning about their new enemy, only he and Javelin remain to watch Theodyl. Paragon would rather have more support in case of trouble. Having the bard change his hair color and talk with a funny accent isn't going to work against an organized man-hunt. Paragon can't wait to reach the Mror Holds.

Now, Back in Sharn....

Marat looked and his head in the mirror. The lich, Mooneye claimed that his hair loss was an unfortunate accident. So far, none of the remedies that he has tried seem to work. He is very annoyed. Caras has been trying to figure out how to remove the dragon statue from the Sharn Trade House foundation. A sage from House Sivis identified it as a portrait of a dragon named Blackscale Terrorwind. Apparently the City Watch missed the large draconic signature across the tail. The Watch Mages claim that it radiates magic, but they can't tell if it is dangerous or even what it does. Marat doesn't care about a stupid rock. Theodyl's background is incomplete.

The letters of recommendation that he used to join the military are forgeries. There is no record of his birth, his family, or even how old he was when he joined. Granted, most of the original records went with Cyre, but House Sivis recovered a lot of material from underground vaults shortly after the disaster. The records from his superiors are interesting. Theodyl showed a remarkable aptitude for planning and tactics. He also showed a talent for magic. Once he joined the Officer's training program, there was no more mention of magic. They needed officers badly. His instructors noted that the half-elf asked specifically to join the Longstriders. Theodyl had a talent for archery, and he was expert with a blade. Over all, there is nothing to show that he would one day become a criminal. Marat sighed and continued to dig. He doesn't know what he is looking for, but he will know it when he sees it.

Sharn City Trade House......

Caras saw the City Engineers finish their argument with the Watch Mages and decided to cross the street. He put an ornate stone staircase between his body and whatever the magic types are up to. Caras doesn't like the look of the dragon. It is made out of rock, that's been confirmed by every city know-it-all that he's allowed in his presence. The Hussar simply doesn't trust it.

The Master Mason and his assistants formed a circle and started waving their magical doodads about. He's found out that they are all contracted from House Cannith, and they are all marked. As the City Engineers started to chant, something started to take shape above their heads. The sounds of clicking and whirring, clanking and whomping started to echo down the street. A great incomprehensible machine came into existence, the City Engineers seemed to be guiding it. Caras saw it move. It is amazing.

The incredible machine walked over to the ruins of the Trade House and settled over the massive dragon statue. After more clicking, whirring, clanking, and whomping, the machine lifted the object and started moving towards the nearest ledge. They are going to drop it over the side. Caras idly wondered how, a dragon's portrait, ended up at the top of one of Sharn's towers in the first place.

“YOUR GOD DEMANDS TRIBUTE!!!”

The voice sounded above the noise generated by the incredible machine. The City Engineers ceased their chanting. The magical construct came to an abrupt halt. It's cargo is moving. Caras watched as the dragon statue tore into the incredible machine. The massive creature hit the ground and roared.

“GOLD, MAGIC, GEMS, VIRGINS!!!” The voice came from around the statue and projected in all directions. “YOUR GOD DEMANDS TRIBUTE!!!”

The terrible statue started eating the continual flame street lights. A store sign, lit by a nimbus of bright fairy fire went next. The Watch Mages attacked the monster. Their magic only made the statue change targets.

“GOLD, MAGIC, GEMS, VIRGINS!!!” The voice continued.

Caras ran forward to get behind the mages. The statue roared and breathed a stream of gravel. Two of the mages were buried. The monster paused to dig the bodies up. It seemed to sniff them before swallowing them whole. Caras cursed. The dragon statue continued to dig until it unearthed a bright golden staff. The other mages were outraged. Caras grabbed hold of the sage from House Sivis and dragged him away. The happy schoolboy grin on the wrinkled gnome's face tells him that he's got more to say on the subject of dragon statues.

“It is a Golem!!!” The sage said after a thorough shaking. Caras made to shake him again. “It collects tribute for it's creator...please, let me think...just let it be and it will go to sleep again!”

Caras picked the gnome up and threw him over his shoulder. He rallied the scattered Watch men and ordered them to clear the area. It took a lot of screaming to get the Watch Mages to lay off the statue. The sage talked his head off at them for almost an hour afterwards. Caras hates city people, it is like they choose to be stupid.

“Enough talk, how do we get rid of it?!” Caras broke into their conference. “Is it going to do that every time we try to move it!?”

“We can't, we could learn a lot from such a construct.” The Master Mason spoke up.

“The Seren islanders pay tribute to their Dragon Gods through just such a device.” The gnome sage spoke up. “Our researchers have a theory that the dragons can communicate through their statues.”

“I am not talking to a piece of rock!” Caras growled.

“No, of course not! You have to make an offering...and pray to it.” The gnome corrected. “The Dragon, of course, must like what it hears. We lost many researchers until we figured that out....”

“And what kind of offering would we have to make?” One of the Watch Mages demanded. “It just ate two of my apprentices and my bloody damn magic staff!!!”

“Well...” the gnome cringed. “Magic and Virgins are pretty high on the list for dragons.....Were your pupils virgins?”

“What!?” The Watch Mage whirled and closed on the gnome. “I ought to toss you over the edge with that monster, you stunted little bookworm!!!!”

“It doesn't need to go that far!” Caras had to step in and save the House Sivis sage. The know-it-all continued to speak. “The dragon Blackscale must want something, else, the statue wouldn't be here!” The gnome capped his revelation with the look of one who is stating the obvious to an inferior audience. Caras wanted to shake him again.

Bravo SkullSmurfer! Superb! I'm loving this story hour.

I have to confess that I'm finding it a little hard to follow at times though. It might help (me at least) if you indicated a change of scene with something more than just a new paragraph. Perhaps ** on a line between the paragraphs or something? I had to re-read the scene with the two ghosts, three times before I understood that there were two swift changes of scene.

Since I started reading this story hour, i've also been out and bought the Eberron campaign setting book and am 120 pages through that too. This story is helping to visualise so much of the setting that i'd normally have to spend weeks building up a mental picture of just by reading the rules books.

The only section that you've covered that has left me wondering a little, is your interpretation of the gods. I seem to think that you've twice made reference to characters acting on the will of the gods. That implies to me that the gods have a will and vocalise it. However, from what i've read in the campaign book, the gods are supposedly more abstract (?) and ideological (?) than being singular beings.

Does my understanding differ from yours, or have you simply added more of a "being" side to the gods to enhance the plot? Personally, I'm still floundering a little to grasp all the implications of deities being abstract, my mind is far too used to the Forgotten Realms style pantheon.

Finally, you're obviously well into your role-playing and fantasy. Are you currently running or taking part in a D&D campaign, is it set in Eberron and do any parts of the game manifest themselves in your literature?

Cheers, keep the story coming, cant wait for more!

Well, the Silver Flame, in my opinion, is the only Deity that has actually manifested on Eberron. Private Niabelis has the advantage of proof, as far as her faith in the Flame is concerned. For Theodyl, Olladra is a matter of Faith. The fact that he fears Gods playing with his fate is equal parts paranoia and the belief that he makes his own fate. For Mooneye the Necromancer, since he's a lich, I am giving him the opportunity of finding out at the very last minute<now that he is undead> that the Sovereign Host <and Aureon> is more than just an idea. I figure that as a powerful undead wizard, Mooneye has the opportunity to know better than most mortals.

For the Changelings, the Traveler is a real force. I think that the Six attract their followers through miracles and power. Not just because it is the exact opposite of how the Sovereign Host Play the game, but because the type of Faithful that they attract expect to see those things before they will believe. That is why all those terrible things happen with cults. Evil Gods Deliver.

As for cutting from scene to scene, I apologize. I am learning how to write as I go, there are many things that I miss just because I have never thought about it. I appreciate your feedback and I will see about being more clear in the future.

Skullsmurfer, we need more!

I can't quite pin down exactly what did it, but something about your story hour grabbed me right from the start. I've really enjoyed what you've written so far - it's been a very fun ride watching how things develop! You seem to be very excited about telling your story, and I think that leaks through in your writing - its very infectious! Your story hour is one of the main factors that motivated me to finally get off my butt and start writing one of my own. So now people have someone to blame for that Please keep us posted on how the story is going!

Anti-Sean said:

Skullsmurfer, we need more!

I can't quite pin down exactly what did it, but something about your story hour grabbed me right from the start. I've really enjoyed what you've written so far - it's been a very fun ride watching how things develop! You seem to be very excited about telling your story, and I think that leaks through in your writing - its very infectious! Your story hour is one of the main factors that motivated me to finally get off my butt and start writing one of my own. So now people have someone to blame for that Please keep us posted on how the story is going!

Click to expand...

I'd just like to take this moment to echo exactly what Anti-Sean said. Here goes....

I can't quite pin down exactly what did it, but something about your story hour grabbed me right from the start. I've really enjoyed what you've written so far - it's been a very fun ride watching how things develop!

Sorry about the delay....

I am happy to announce that I have found a job, at last, after 11 months of searching. I will post again the weekend after Sep. 15. The overtime is good right now, so I have been busy catching up. I want to thank you all for your support.

skullsmurfer said:

I am happy to announce that I have found a job, at last, after 11 months of searching. I will post again the weekend after Sep. 15. The overtime is good right now, so I have been busy catching up. I want to thank you all for your support.

Click to expand...

Yay, congrats Skullsmurfer! Hope that the new job is going well.

*checks date on watch.....checks thread for aforementioned Sep 15th update*