Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
Fox and Geese: Part 3a – Brother, Who Art Thou Really?
Leading the legionnaire of the Temple Quarter and through the city was the equivalent of herding a small child. As they continued slowly through the crowds, a homely looking gnome struggled to reach them. He was dressed in simple robes that could have been white once, but had since grayed. He received several buffets from the crowd before he reached them.
“Greetings…” whispered the gnome in a wheezing voice through teeth half-rotten, “I recognize you…you vere in the Bone Market earlier…”
Kham stepped in front of Quintus, pistol ready. “That’s close enough, ugly.”
“Ah, no, I harbor no ill intent towards you...You did as you saw fit, as must ve all...But I thought you should be made aware...dat dere is more to dis dan you may know…”
Kham shook his head. “We’re just attracting all kinds of crazies today, aren’t we?”
“Ah, indeed...I vas vitness to de dispute in the Market there...and to your actions...I am...Brother Gavrin...and I have seen and heard many things...One of my...lesser stature…is often overlooked...”
Beldin stood nose to nose with Gavrin. “Out with it, half-breed. What do you want?”
“Dose dat you aided have dark intentions indeed…”
“You mean the Sarishans?” asked Sebastian.
Gavrin nodded. “Though dey each accuse the other of evil...dey both have evil...in their hearts...Both groups are...leading dese blameless...folk to sacrifice…though dey would never...admit it to ones whom…dey wish to dupe into helping them…”
“What are they up to, then?” asked Sebastian.
“Dey will take dem east...to a village in the She’haulk mountains...Dere dey trade dese folk to heretical savages...dat live in those mountains. De folk are used...as offerings in their bloody rituals.”
“And you’re telling us this because…” Ilmarė waited for Gavrin to finish his sentence.
“If you truly respect dis man...den do not turn him over to either group...I know of...a group of Illiirite monks...who would take dem in…de Brotherhood...of de Just Death...Dey do not believe in…human sacrifice…”
“Well, Quintus would certainly be happier with Illiirites,” said Kham. “I didn’t know there were any here. It doesn’t seem like…” he looked around, “Illiir’s kind of place.”
“There aren’t,” interjected Sebastian. “The Brothers were an Illiirite group, that slanted their views to more easily appeal to Nerothians, but were not themselves Nerothian. I thought their chapel was burned down a long time ago.”
Gavrin looked surprised. “De Confraternity...is known outside of Canceri...no? Dey are not…followers of Canceri’s dark gods...You should have no…fears of sacrifice...from dem…”
“And where do you want us to take him?” asked Beldin.
“Lead him...to de abandoned Pantheon temple...in de Trade Quarter. De brothers can…meet you dere...I can inform dem...”
“You do that,” said Kham. “Now run along.”
The gnome flashed them a horrible smile and then limped his way back through the crowd.
“I swear,” Kham said to the legionnaire. “You attract more attention with your mouth shut.”
Fox and Geese: Part 3b – Brother, Who Art Thou Really?
“Tah dah!” shouted Kham as he led an expressionless man back into the back room of the Velvet Glove.
The booming legionnaire who had once been known as Quintus was unmistakably his old self. His hair was cut once more to military length. His beard was gone. Kham had even found a Coryani-style toga for him, although it was obviously not a military uniform.
Kham patted Quintus on the back. “Just give him a gladius and a cause and you’ve got your old Quintus.” He led Quintus over to the table and, with a gentle push on his shoulders, made him sit down.
Sebastian stared into Quintus’ unfocused eyes. “What do you think happened to him?”
Kham grabbed a bottle of Savonan wine left just for him. “I don’t know.” He uncorked it with his teeth and took a drink. “But whatever it is, we’re going to find out a way to fix it. There’s nothing a little magical healing can’t fix, we just have to find the right healer.”
“We still don’t know that it’s Quintus.” Ilmarė stood away from the legionnaire, arms crossed. “They faked von Grebel’s death with an imitation corpse. Who’s to say they can’t do that with a living person?”
Kham propped his legs up on the table. “What is your deal? You know Quintus’ body better than any of us.” He suppressed a grin. “Doesn’t he have distinguishing marks somewhere on him?”
Ilmarė glared at him. “I am not going to give that…THING the pleasure.” Her hands balled into fists at her side. “I don’t trust it. It could turn on us at any moment.”
“I think it is Quintus,” said Beldin. “I think he got into some trouble. Trouble he couldn’t get out of. And it’s our duty to help him however we can. He would have helped us.”
“You have your oath, dwarf,” sneered the elorii. “If it really is Quintus, then his god has truly forsaken him.” She lowered her voice. “Quintus was the most pious fool I know.”
“What’s that Quintus?” Kham cupped one finger to his ear to Quintus. “What? Your gods killed someone else’s gods? Oh THAT’S RIGHT!” The val pointed at Ilmarė with the bottle of wine. “Our gods DID wipe out YOUR gods!”
Ilmarė’s eyes narrowed to slits. “How dare you…” She opened her mouth and closed it again, overcome with a flash of rage.
“That’s right, we’re all stupid humans!” shouted Kham. “You know what? I’m glad Quintus can’t hear this! He wouldn’t want your pity anyway!”
“That’s enough!” Sebastian stood up between them. “We’re all on edge. Let’s try to focus on getting whoever this is to safety; whether it’s really Quintus or not, I will not stand by and allow an innocent to be sacrificed.”
Beldin stood up with him. “Nor I.”
Kham put down the bottle of wine. “Fine. But Quintus stays with me. I don’t trust her with him. She might try to slit his throat or something.”
The val rose and guided Quintus out of the room. He looked over his shoulder at Ilmarė as he left. Beldin and Sebastian wordlessly followed him out.
Ilmarė sat down at the table and picked up the bottle of wine, all the energy and emotion drained from her. “I still don’t think its Quintus,” she said weakly to no one in particular.
Like most of the Trade Quarter, the buildings had shops and restaurants on the ground floor, with residential dwellings on the floors above. They had little difficulty blending with passers-by while they waited near the burnt-out chapel of the
Confraternity.
“My sources tell me that the Confraternity of the Just Death has been seen poking around here, near their old chapel. Apparently they’ve been lying low, afraid of persecution.”
Ilmarė snorted, but didn’t add anything else.
After a time, a brown-haired man in whitish-gray robes slowly made his way down the street. With a quick glance to see that he wasn’t followed, he ducked inside the chapel.
“That’s our man,” said Sebastian.
Kham pulled his cloak further over his head. Sebastian did the same.
“Stay here with Quintus,” he said to Beldin. “If you hear any loud noises, hit people with your axe.”
They padded up to the large doors and followed the man inside.
The complex proved to be larger inside than it seemed from the street. The outer wall and rooms were still in ruins, showing signs of the burning of two years ago.
Sebastian looked around. “Looks like they’ve been trying to repair it.”
As they moved further into the chapel, it became apparent that some of the rooms showed signs of repair.
Kham put an open palm in Sebastian’s face and one finger to his lips. There was movement ahead.
Peering around the corner, Kham saw the man he was following, along with another, younger man. The younger man was plastering a section of wall.
“I fear things are going from bad to vorse, Prior,” said the younger man. “After dey arrested de Milandisian, dey vill most certainly persecute us.”
Sebastian was overcome by a wave of fitful coughs.
Kham rolled his eyes. “Remind me to not take you with me next time.”
Both of the men turned at their entrance. The older man came forward nervously. “What brings you here?”
“You’re with the Confraternity of Just Death, right?” asked Kham.
“Who vants to know?”
“Relax, we’re not Nierites.” Kham pulled back his hood to display his mixed heritage.
The man swallowed hard. “I am Prior Andreas. How can I help you?”
“Brother Gavrin sent us,” said Sebastian, clearing his throat. “He mentioned that you were gathering up the Touched.”
Andreas exchanged glances with his acolyte. “Ve do not know a Brother Gavrin. Or de Touched.”
“What a surprise,” said Kham.
“De Confraternity vould indeed take in the Touched, but dis Gavrin is not a member of our group.”
“You like Illiir, right?” asked Kham. “One of our friends has been mistaken for one of the Touched. He’s not normally like this…he’s just having a bad day. He needs a safe place to stay.”
“Brother Gavrin told us to bring the Touched to an old ruined temple of the Pantheon.”
The Prior’s brow furrowed. “Dis man of vhich you speak lies. I fear de vorst for de innocents you speak of.”
“As do I,” said Sebastian. “If you agree to watch over our friend, I will require you to swear a Sarishan oath.”
Andreas nodded. “Of course, ve vill be happy to do such a thing, especially if he vas a man of Illiir as you say.”
“Great.” Kham took out one of his pistols and began cleaning it. The two holy men gasped.
“And vhat vill you do?” asked Andreas.
Kham exchanged glances with Sebastian. “We’re going to crash a party.”
The place indicated by Gavrin where the Oathbinder’s clergy were gathering Touched turned out to be an empty warehouse near the Vein Canal. Outside, it looked shabby, deserted. Although the place looked run-down and abandoned, there were no windows or cracks in the plaster walls on the first floor through which to view the inside.
“There’s no windows on the first floor, but there are on the second.” Kham pulled out two potions from his coat. “And since the cat-girl couldn’t make it today, I’ll be filling in for her with a little help from Falthar val’Abebi.”
He downed a potion. Nothing happened.
“Jump potion,” said Kham with a grin. He drank another potion and disappeared from sight.
A minute later, Kham returned from his reconnaissance. “Shipping doors are sturdy. There’s a smaller entrance for employees to enter but it’s locked too.”
“Great,” said Beldin. “So how do we get in?”
Kham shrugged. “Something went down in there. There are Nierties trying to pretend that they’re the Confraternity of Just Death, and doing a piss-poor job of it. I heard them talking about waiting for a cart to arrive, probably with the Touched in it.”
“You mean that cart?” Ilmarė pointed at a horse-led covered wagon that was already in front of the warehouse. The driver got out and knocked on the doors.
“Ah crap, that’s our way in!” Kham looked around desperately.
Beldin pounded out of their hiding place towards the man at the door.
“What is he doing?!” whispered Sebastian.
“Taking charge,” Kham whirled to pursue the dwarf. “About time somebody did!”
The man at the door didn’t have a chance. The dwarf barreled into him, knocking him a good five feet out of the path of the door. Kham arrived seconds after. He pulled his cloak over his head just as the door opened.
The guard, concealed under a deep hood, whispered. “Are you here to deliver the package?”
Kham adjusted his hood. “Yeah.”
“What’s the password?”
Kham thought for a moment. “Everybody deserves a just death.”
The guard nodded and the doors opened wider. Kham suppressed a chuckle; the Nierite impostors had no idea what the password was and neither did he.
Kham led the cart slowly into the warehouse. There were a few thumps behind the cart as it moved through the doors.
Kham took in the warehouse from a new perspective. Guards flanked him on either side. Another hooded and cloaked figure stood atop a pile of crates.
The horses whinnied nervously. Kham tried to calm them down.
“Easy, easy,” he whispered to the horses. Their eyes were showing white as their ears flicked in agitation.
“What’s gotten into them?” asked the leader atop the crates.
“One of the Touched is a dark-kin,” said Kham.
The horses started neighing in obvious distress.
“Well, calm them down,” said the leader. “Filthy half-breeds.”
Kham feigned offense. “Half-breeds? I thought the Confraternity of Just Death treated all souls equally.”
“Oh, they do.” The leader threw off his cloak, revealing the red, snug-fitting clothes of a Nierite sorcerer. “But we’re not members. I am taking possessions of these sacrifices on behalf of Nier! Now stand down or face His fiery wrath!”
Kham shrugged. “You heard him,” he said over his shoulder. “I either stand down or its fiery wrath time.”
Sebastian hopped out of the wagon. “I choose fiery wrath: Incendiaries globus!”
All hell broke loose. The fireball caught the Nierites by surprise, incinerating crate and warrior alike.
Just as Sebastian cast his spell, Beldin cut the reins of the horses. The explosion and the appearance of the dark-kin drove them to maddened flight. The horses galloped forward, crashing into sacks of flour and knocking one Nierite off of his perch.
One of the Swords of Nier, who looked just like all his other companions, pointed at Kham. “Witness the full beauty of Nier’s glory!”
Kham tapped his lenses with one pistol-fisted hand. “No thanks, I…Althares!”
There was a blinding light, so bright that it felt as if it had ignited the back of Kham’s skull. And then all he saw was white.
The sound of an arrow whistled past his ear. “What now?” came Ilmarė’s voice.
“I’m blind!” shouted Kham. “The bastard blinded me!”
“Well get out of the way then, you’re blocking my shot!” she shouted back.
Kham felt around desperately. He was in the middle of combat, completely exposed. It would just take one hack of the Nierite’s swords to finish him.
Think. THINK! What would dad do?
He would use every advantage at his disposal. Kham took a deep breath.
Kham heard Beldin’s familiar grunt to his left as steel met steel. He had only seconds before one of the Nierites took advantage of his position.
The gift! Kham had used it to see into the future. Perhaps he could use it to see the present, as it was before he was blind.
He concentrated. In the awful whiteness of his mind, a pinpoint dot came into sharp focus. It was the warehouse. He was looking at it just as he did before he went blind. Everything and everyone was frozen.
Kham looked around. It was like staring at a set of museum pieces that were all perfect reproductions of the originals. The Nierite priest had his finger outstretched, but Kham wasn’t interested in him. He looked around for the nearest escape route.
The window! There were no windows on the first floor but there were on the second. The jumping potion was still in effect. He could make it, if he timed it perfectly.
Kham turned his body and lifted one arm. It felt distance, like he was pulling on strings to make his limbs move.
He fired. The glass in the window shattered. The path was clear.
Now he just had to jump the twenty feet to the exit.
There was another WOOSH of flames near him. He felt the heat. Hopefully that was one of Sebastian’s spells. But it could just as easily have been from the Nierite sorcerer.
Remembering where everything and everything was, Kham took a short hop forwards. Before he landed, he hoped to Althares that the terrain hadn’t changed…
He landed. Judging from the hollow thump beneath him, it was a crate, just as he remembered it. Now was the hard part. There were three crates lined up in a row, then a ten-foot gap. He had to time it perfectly.
“Are you insane?” shouted Ilmarė.
Kham didn’t have time to respond. Taking three mighty strides, he hurled himself through the abyss.
Something tinkled around him; bits of glass, he guessed, still falling form the window. The sounds of combat were muffled, behind him. He smelled fresh earth.
Kham was outside. He reached out, felt the wall, sagged against it. The world was still blindingly white.
Eventually, he heard the approach of footsteps. Kham whipped out both of his pistols. “Stay back!”
“You’re still blind?” asked Beldin. “I don’t believe it. I thought for sure you—“
“Yeah, well, let’s just say I have a good memory.”
“We’ve got all the Touched. I’m going to bring them back to the Prior Andrea in the cart. I figured you could use a ride.”
Kham nodded and holstered his pistols. A firm hand gripped his and hoisted him to his feet.
Prior Andreas seemed surprised when the Touched were brought to him.
“Ve are housing dem, for now, in de old chapel of de Confraternity, in de Trade Quarter.”
“Look, I’m grateful for the healing and all.” Kham put his lenses back on, his sight restored. “But if you don’t tell me where Quintus is I’m afraid I’m going to have to shoot you.”
Andreas folded his fingers. “Vhen you said dat Quintus vas not normally Touched, I prayed to Illiir to grant him mercy. And he did. Vhen he awoke from his stupor, he asked vhere he was. Vhen I told him, he fled.”
“That’s it?” Ilmarė looked crestfallen. “That’s all he said?”
Andreas nodded. “He said something about a mission. I believe your friend knew his vay around Nishanpur. He strikes me as a man who can take care of himself.”
“He usually can,” said Sebastian with a wry smirk. “I wonder if he was aware of us that whole time.”
Kham shot Ilmarė a look. “I hope not.”
“It is no longer safe here, for any of us. Dere have been violent incidents between Nierites and Nerothians. Ve vill try to get de Touched out of Nishanpur soon. You should leave as soon as you are able.”
“We would,” said Kham. “But we’ve got another friend who needs our help.”
“No one left behind,” Beldin said with an approving nod. “Human or otherwise,” he added for Ilmarė’s benefit.
“It is only a matter of time before the city erupts into open conflict on the streets,” said Ilmarė. “The question is when?”
“Not soon enough,” said Sebastian. “Not soon enough.”
Chapter 41: Truths of Purity and Corruption - Introduction
This is a Year One Living Arcanis Nishanpur adventure, “Truths of Purity and Corruption” by Kimberly Wajer-Scott, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!
Our cast of characters includes:
• Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
• Beldin Soulforge (dwarf fighter) played by Joe Lalumia
• Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com)
• Sebastian Arnyal (dark-kin sorcerer) played by George Webster
• Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca
This adventure is the last of the Canceri modules. I merged all three of the holidays in the adventures together to take place over one eventful week just to make things easier. Although it doesn’t quite conclude what’s happening in Nishanpur, it certainly brings the political situation to an inevitable conflict. This lets Sebastian leave the place with a sense of closure.
Similarly, Vlad finally gets his day in court. He doesn’t so much get closure as he gets to live; but that’s pretty much the same thing.
This adventure also wraps up the whole arc in Nishanpur, explaining what Quintus was doing there, why von Grebel was turned into a vampire, and just what Leonydas and his Nierites have been doing all this time.
The weeklong Burning Man festival was finally coming to a close. Tensions were high; the week had witnessed a series of clashes between the Swords of Nier and the populace. Everyone was expecting something to happen, but what exactly that would be was anyone’s guess.
If ever there were a night for strange events, the last day of the Burning Man festival was it. In honor of Cadic, everyone went masked, with many groups of revelers traveling around in gaudy costumes. Like a dark carnival, the general citizenry held lavish parties, and all social boundaries were temporarily suspended.
“It reminds me too much of the King in Yellow,” said the purple-and-silver haired elorii with a frown. “I don’t like it.”
“If something is going to happen, it will happen tonight,” replied her dark-kin companion. Sebastian smoothed back bone-white hair. “What better time for an insurrection against the oppression of the Swords of Nier to rise, than the night when no one can clearly be identified and nothing is necessarily what it seems?”
In honor of Sarish, the last night was one of great magics. For the faithful, it was a night when much business was attended to: the Academy of the Temple of Shadows held auditions, and the Temple of the Keeper of Mysteries opened its doors to new initiates. On that night, anyone could seek to change his fortunes. A slave could become a priest, or a nobleman’s son an assassin. Safely masked, they could make their applications, carry out their plots and intrigues, and none need know the results until contracts were signed and the masks came off at dawn.
A gruff dwarf with a beard ending in gold beads nodded at one of the walls. “Lots of graffiti supports your theory,” said Beldin.
They had all noticed an increase in the amount of graffiti scrawled in alleys and even on the corners of a few buildings. Most of it was anti-Erdukeen in nature, ranging from calls for the overthrow of the Autocrat to predictions that Eremis val’Virdan would soon arise to free the city, to cryptic references of what were presumably religious tracts.
Spelled out in white ink, in foot-high letters running the length of one wall of the Nihang Council Building read, “The righteous heart shall burn away poisonous lies.”
“That’s from an obscure Nierite codex,” said Kham. “The Way of the Flame. Where are we going, anyway?”
“Horeb’s,” said Sebastian. “I’m meeting one of my contacts there.”
Horeb’s was on Oath Way. A small establishment, the seating consisted entirely of two long benches. To one side was a long counter area where food was prepared and served. A middle-aged man busily worked at seasoning, stirring, and periodically tasting a large container of stew. He also kept an eye on some loaves of fresh bread rising in an oven behind him.
At the fourth hour past noon, the workday was not yet over, so business for the eatery was sparse. There was plenty of room to have a seat. The few other patrons were dressed as bureaucrats and other mid-level businessmen of the quarter. They talked quietly among themselves, no doubt looking forward to their various entertainments during the evening’s festival.
One bench had folks scattered down it, while the other was mostly empty, with only one person seated.
Sebastian ordered some stew from Horeb. “You should order some,” he said to his companions. “Horeb’s stew is actually quite good, especially with the fresh-baked bread to use as a makeshift spoon.”
Beldin and Kham ordered bowls and followed Sebastian to the mostly empty table.
“I am gratified dat you have chosen to join me,” said Helac val’Mordane without looking up from his own bowl of stew. “Our mutual friend had hoped you vould be interested in a business proposition.”
Sebastian knew Helac meant Garan val’Mehan, Akali Vervain’s right-hand man and Sarishan diplomat. “What sort of business proposition?” asked Sebastian.
“It turns out dat Akali Vervain’s plan vas more far reaching dan even Garan comprehended. By turning Commander Haron von Grebel into a vampire, ve uncovered much about de Nierite plans for Nishanpur and Canceri in general.”
“What kind of information?” prodded Sebastian.
“Ve have become avare of a certain person, who has recently arrived in de city, by de name of Baecinia val’Virdan. She has information dat ve vould find most interesting. Please see to it dat she comes to see us. Based on your past actions, our mutual friend believes dat ve have a common goal, and so he chooses to ask for your assistance in dis matter.”
“And that goal is?”
“Vhy, to see justice done, of course. No more and no less. But as you know, dere are some dat have a rather…skewed…sense of vhat constitutes justice. De Swords of Nier here in de city, for example. Dey would not be pleased if de information dat Baecinia possesses vere to come to light.”
“What does our friend want with Baecinia val’Virdan?”
“Communication. A meeting, if possible; he vould like to speak vith her in person. Such things can be difficult to arrange directly. Information is power, as you know, and even de information about who is communicating vith whom is a form of power and of itself. Our friend cannot tip his hand too early, hence de need for others to convey dis message.”
Sebastian nodded. “We’re in.”
“Good. Give her dis…” Helac passed Sebastian a small folded document, sealed by the Mark of Sarish. “Be cautious not to disturb de Mark…doing so vould have…unpleasant consequences.”
Sebastian took the document and concealed it within the folds of his robes. “It will be done.”
“Your friend, Quintus…ve discovered dat he was a Coryani spy,” said Helac. “He infiltrated de Order of de Hidden Flame and recovered intelligence as to de whereabouts of a legendary sword named Precision. But von Grebel captured him. He had Quintus’ mind viped as punishment and executed de other spies. Quintus has since fled Nishanpur. Our friend thought you might vant to know.”
“What about Vlad?” asked Beldin.
“De Milandisian?” Helac chuckled. “He has put our Nierite friends in an interesting predicament. If dey execute him, he becomes a symbol of Nierite brutality. If dey release him, it vill encourage more violence against de Swords of Nier. So dey delay, delay, delay. Dey are running out of time. De Autocrat has pledged to make a decision by de end of the Burning Man festival, tonight. It is more imperative dan ever dat ve veaken de Nierite position; if dey feel arrogant enough, dey might just make an example of Vlad.”
“We’ve got more than politics riding on this,” said Kham. “You take care of your end and we’ll find this Baecinia.”
Helac nodded. “One other thing. De Autocrat has doubled de forces looking for you, Kham. De best vay for de Nierites to get out of deir quandary is to find von Grebel’s murderer. Be careful. Nishanpur can be very unforgiving.”
“That’s no different from any other city Kham’s in,” said Ilmarė.
Though it was not as large as the Bone Market, the Lower Market in the Trade Quarter of Nishanpur still featured a staggering variety of goods of sale. There were foodstuffs of all varieties, innumerable household goods, and even a blacksmith selling arms and armor of Sarishan steel. The Factors’ Guildhouse was the largest building in the square, and it, along with every pub and inn, was thronged with people of all sizes and descriptions. Merchants displayed their wares on tables, in booths, or just on rugs spread out on any available patch of ground, creating a maze of milling people.
One of the male merchants, who had a bit of a Hinterlander look about him, was having a rather animated debate with a female Val customer, both of them alternately pointing at one another and at the various goods that the merchant had laid out on a colorful rug. After a moment, the woman threw up her arms in disgust and marched away, quickly disappearing into the crowd. The merchant, a somewhat sheepish look on his face, sighed and began rearranging his wares, which included a number of gemstones and even some ingots of a strange, reddish-tinted metal.
“Who was that woman?” asked Sebastian.
The merchant was a man of middle age, of average height with a lean but not overly muscular build. He had dark auburn hair, slightly graying, and brown eyes. He looked rather unsettled and nervous
“Yes...well, er...that was not a customer...that was my, ah, wife, actually.” The merchant spoke Low Coryani with a Hinterlander/Altharin accent that placed him as an Erdukeen. “She and I are new to the city, and so far our journey has not been very successful. She is ...unhappy ...with my efforts thus far in resolving our situation, and my wife is not a woman who hesitates to make her displeasure known. There is no mistaking the echoes of Nier’s fire that flow in her veins, that’s for certain!”
“Yeah, Nierite ladies can be a fiery lot.” Kham chuckled at some joke only he got.
“Ah, but we have not been properly introduced. Forgive my rudeness. I am Caius Virdan-Dura. And you are…?”
“Sebastian Arnyal,” said the dark-kin. He introduced his companions in turn. “We were looking for Baecinia val’Virdan. Judging from your last name, I gather she is your wife.”
“Yes.” Caius glanced around, as if he was looking for someone. “We are formerly from the city of Erduk. I lived in that city and served in the Swords of Nier, but it was some years ago, before the current Autocrat came to power.”
“Then we have a mutual friend,” said Sebastian. “We were told to seek you out…”
“Excellent!” said Caius. “I am in need of assistance from someone more familiar with this place than I. My wife and I are seeking some former compatriots of ours. We need to find them today. I have heard they may be here, but do not know where to begin looking, and so far my inquiries have come to naught. I simply do not know whom to talk to in this confusing city.”
He fiddled with the goods arrayed on the blanket before him, rearranging them in seemingly meaningless patterns. Eventually, he found a scroll case and handed it to Sebastian. “Here is a list of their names, along with a brief description of each. In addition, there are three letters. Give them each a letter. They will see it is in my wife’s handwriting and under my seal, and they will cooperate. The letters are all identical; it does not matter to which person you give each letter.”
“How do we get in touch with you when we find your friends?”
“We are staying at the Ebon Steed, which is not far from here. I will also remain here, in the Lower Market, during the day.”
“We’ll do it,” said Sebastian.
Ilmarė sighed. “Doesn’t anyone use messengers in this city?”
Traevus val’Virdan was the first of the named ‘witnesses’ on the list provided by Caius.
“You sure this is the place?” asked Kham.
Sebastian nodded. “According to my sources, this is his residence.”
Beldin took up his axe and stood to one side of the door. Ilmarė, thinblade at the ready, stood on the other.
“Let’s try knocking first,” Sebastian said with a smile. He knocked three times.
An older gentleman dressed in an old threadbare robe answered his knock. His hair was white. He was thin and taller than average. He squinted at Sebastian with cloudy eyes.
“Can I help you?”
“Are you Traevus val’Virdan?” asked Sebastian.
“Yes, but I’m retired. I don’t do divinations anymore...You can find diviners advertising in the Lower Market…”
“We aren’t here for a divination,” Sebastian said. “We have a message for you.”
“A message? Come in, come in!”
Sebastian led his companions inside. The old man seemed very eager to hear the message. He sat down hastily in a rocking chair.
“Is it from my daughter? Would you read it to me? My eyes aren’t what they used to be…”
Sebastian cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it is not.” He opened the seal and peered at the words. They didn’t make any sense to him. He was about to show it to Beldin when Kham snatched it out of his hands.
“Interesting mix of Altharin and Dwarven. Anyway! It translates to: It is time; please join us in the Lower Market so we can right the wrong from long ago. It’s signed B and C.”
There was a little more to it, but the wording was cryptic, and it was apparent the letter was some sort of personal code developed between fellows to assure the genuine nature of the message.
The old man stood, apparently lost in thought, for a moment or two. Then Travus nodded to no one in particular, as if he had come to a decision about something that he had pushed to the back of his mind for a long time.
He turned around and shuffled back to the door, ushering them out. “Thank you for the message.”
“Wait,” said Sebastian. “Aren’t you coming with us?”
“I will meet them,” replied Traveus. “It will take me some time to get ready and go, though. And the note didn’t say anything about you coming with me.”
They left, uncertain if Traveus would really show up.
“Too bad it wasn’t a message from his daughter.” Kham thought of his own recently deceased father. “I almost wish we had delivered a note from him instead.”
Sebastian shook his head. “I think not. His daughter is a Sword of Nier.”
The second person on the list was Jurbe Nasaran. He was described as a human male, with red hair and hazel eyes, and a scar on his right arm.
“That’s it?” asked Kham. “That’s something to start with, but not terribly distinctive in a city with a lot of red-haired Nierite soldiers.”
“He’s also a priest of Nier,” said Beldin.
Ilmarė rolled her eyes. “And there’s not enough of THOSE in Nishanpur.”
“The description says he used to perform burial rites,” said Sebastian. “All of the formal burials in Nishanpur take place in the Pits, so that’s why we’re here.”
The Pits were a strange place compared to the cemeteries of any other city. The smell of ash and smoke hung heavy in the air, almost, but not quite, masking the underlying odor of death. The ground was whitish-gray from an accumulation of ash on the granite rocks, and indeed the cinders had almost congealed to cement in many places. The ground was pockmarked with large holes, a few of which had the burnt remains of large logs protruding from them.
A few families were gathered around biers in various areas. One group carried a sarcophagus down into the catacombs at the far end of the Pits. On the west side of the field, a group of men erected a scaffold of logs on top of one of the large holes. A few shiny beetles, several inches long, scurried along the ground.
Sebastian smiled benevolently down at the beetles. “Flesh-eating scarabs.” He carefully stepped around the insects. “We call them Neroth’s Children.”
“Charming,” said Ilmarė.
A man in the black and brown robes of a Nerothian approached. “Greetings. Do you require our services, or are you here for a funeral ritual that has already been planned? I can direct you to the proper location.”
“We’re here to find Jurbe Nasaran,” said Sebastian. “Does he work here?”
“Ah, you require a Nierite ritual, then? Yes, Jurbe does perform services here. He is currently occupied, however. I can help with the details and make sure your ritual is added to his upcoming schedule. Tell me, do you wish an Erdukeen rite, or do you prefer one in the local fashion?”
“No, we aren’t here for a funeral,” replied Sebastian. “We just need to find Jurbe, we have a message for him.”
“I see,” the priest looked mildly perturbed. “Well, as I said, Jurbe is currently occupied. I can deliver your message.”
Sebastian and Kham exchanged glances. “We prefer to deliver the message in person.”
The Nerothian shrugged. “As you wish. He is over there.” He indicated the scaffolding. “But he is busy preparing for a rite tomorrow morning. Please do not disturb him more than necessary.” The Nerothian pointed out a middle-aged man with thinning red hair, who was doing some work on top of the scaffolding.
Jurbe Nasaran was very involved in his task. He was placing bundles of incense into specific positions among the growing structure of large logs. The entire thing was apparently intended to be a huge funeral pyre.
When Sebastian finally got his attention, a brief look of frustration, quickly stifled, flashed across his face. “Yes, do you need help with something?”
“Are you Jurbe Nasaran?”
“Yes, yes, I am he. What can I do for you? Do you require services?”
“We were asked to deliver this message to you.“ Sebastian handed him the note.
Jurbe opened the note and looked it over. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed.
Then he crumpled the paper into a small ball and tossed it into a pile of kindling being prepared for the pyre.
“Thank you for bringing this. You may go. I have no response.”
“What?” asked Sebastian. “You won’t come with us to see Caius and Baecinia?”
Jurbe winced visibly at the sound of their names. “At this moment, I cannot leave the task at hand, and whether or not I decide ever to I see them is not your concern.”
“It is imperative you attend,” said Sebastian. “This is of vital importance for all of Nishanpur, and perhaps Canceri.”
“What they don’t seem to understand, and perhaps you don’t realize, is that the past is the past,” snapped Jurbe. “What they want to do won’t change anything. All they are doing is ruining their own futures. Do you realize that for the last eight years, I have consistently been passed over for advancement in my order? I am fortunate that I am permitted to have a job at all. I don’t wish to jeopardize my future because they have suddenly decided that now is the time for their strange notion of justice. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do!”
Kham put one hand on Sebastian’s shoulder to silence him. “I know a thing or two about Nierite cremation rituals,” Kham said to Jurbe. “Mind if I help?”
“Y-yes.” Jurbe looked surprised. “That would be helpful.”
Kham steered Jurbe away from the others, winking back at them as he did so.
Jurbe handed Kham a bundle of incense. “Placing these incense sticks is a challenge,” said Jurbe. “They must be positioned just so, lest the wind blow them out. If a stick goes out, the families consider it a judgment of Nier against their relative’s soul.”
“I’ve seen this before.” Kham nodded. “The trick is to put them low enough to the ground so that they’re not caught in the wind, but not so low that they’re in the updraft. All that heat generates a lot of wind,” he grinned, “sort of like Nierite politics.”
Jurbe laughed in spite of himself. “You are learned man…I didn’t catch your name?”
Kham lowered his lenses to reveal his white pupils and evidence of his val heritage. “It’s not important.” He hoped that the priest hadn’t looked at any wanted posters recently.
Jurbe began placing some of the sticks of incense as Kham instructed. “How did you come to know so much about Nierite rituals?”
“I’m part-Altharin; it comes naturally.” Kham coughed into one hand as some of the incense wafted back in his face. “Truth be told, I’m hoping you can teach me a thing or two.”
“It would be my pleasure,” said Jurbe. “Your instructions cut my task in half.”
“I’ve recently…lost someone. I am concerned about his body.”
Jurbe pursed his lips. “Undeath, you mean.”
Kham nodded. “I want to know how to perform the Nierite Sending ceremony correctly. It’s what my father would have wanted.”
Jurbe smiled sympathetically. “Then I will do my very best to teach it to you.”
Kham returned to the others with a self-satisfied smirk. “Jurbe will go to the meeting.”
Sebastian clapped Kham’s back in surprise. “How in the world did you manage that?”
The val shrugged. “Sometimes you have to earn peoples’ trust.”
“And you know all about that,” said Ilmarė flatly.
“Who’s next on the list?” Sebastian asked Beldin before another argument broke out.
Beldin scanned the list. “The third name on the list is Angven Des. Hmm, there’s a Master Smith in Nishanpur named Harmon Des. If I remember correctly, Angven is his niece.”
“You know her?” asked Sebastian.
Beldin stroked his beard. “I know of her. Angven’s been working at her uncle’s forge, Harmon’s Harnessing.”
“Well since you’re a dwarf,” Kham said to Beldin, stating the obvious. “You handle this one.”
“Now wait a minute,” began Beldin, “just because we’re of the same race—“
“Oh come on, you’re a natural charmer,” rapped a knuckle on Beldin’s helmet. “It’s a woman, right? Say something nice about her eyes when you meet her.”
Beldin grumbled something under his breath.
The clang of metal on metal was loud and steady as they approached Harmon’s Harnessing. The temperature became significantly hotter as they approached the forge. Suddenly, a huge shape, one of the Red Fist’s Melatorn Devils, launched itself upward off the roof with a boom of wing beats.
Kham flinched. “Althares! I hate those things!”
After a moment, a scarred and dour dwarf trundled down a stairway from the roof. He glared at Beldin suspiciously.
“Yeah?” he growled. “Whadda you want?”
“We’re looking for Angven Des,” said Beldin. “Is she here?”
“Whadda I look like, her scribe? ANGVEN!” the old dwarf shouted over the forge noise, causing several apprentices to cringe. He retreated into the shop, still grumbling.
After another shout, the workers shifted and a female dwarf of indeterminate age came towards them. She wore a minimum of clothing, but otherwise was little discomfited by the heat. Soot clung to her like a second skin. She carried a blacksmith’s hammer in one hand.
“Yeah?” said Agven. “Whadda you want?”
“That’s amazing,” Kham whispered to Sebastian. “Is she a ventriloquist’s dummy? She sounds just like her uncle.”
Sebastian shushed him.
“Are you Angven Des?” asked Beldin. “We have a message for you.” He handed her the letter.
“Yeah, sure, fine.” Angven opened the message and read it quickly. “Oh, no. They can kiss my—“ CLANG! A sudden loud boom from the forge drowned out the rest of Angven’s ill-tempered response.
She crumpled up the note and threw it into the forge-fire behind her, where it was incinerated instantly.
A voice from behind bellowed, “Don’t you DARE throw trash into that fire! You know better! You’ll ruin the temper!”
“Yeah, yeah. I know, you old—“ CLANG! “Anyway. I gotta get back to work.” Angven gave Beldin a sour look and turned to leave.
“Wait!” shouted Beldin. “Why won’t you come to see Caius and Baecinia?”
Angven turned back to Beldin with a look of anger on her face. She punctuated her words with periodic hammer blows on a nearby anvil.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with me other than really—“ CLANG! “—ing up my life. I am not going to go—“ CLANG! “—ing off the Erdukeen just because some human—“ CLANG! “has a score to settle. I have to trek back up that mountain every so often, and I don’t feel like having to—“ CLANG! “—ing dodge attacks while doing so! I’d like to be able to go home without risking my—“ CLANG! “—ing hide! Now go jump off a cliff and leave me alone!”
Sebastian blinked in surprise. “I expected better from a dwarf,” he muttered.
Angven turned away, muttering.
“I myself am an apprentice to Elabac, the legendary smith of Solanos Mor,” said Beldin. “I’m sure you’d find a welcome forge there, should you require supplies.”
“Especially a Nol Dappan with such attractive eyes,” added Beldin.
A bright white smile split Angven’s face. “Hmmm.” She appraised Beldin up and down. “Okay, I’ll go. But I have to finish my shift at the bellows of the forge. A job’s a job, you know.”
Angven turned away again, disappearing into the heat.
“I feel a little dirty,” Beldin said glumly.
Kham patted Beldin on the back. “Welcome to my world, dwarf.”
As day began to fade into twilight, the crowds of shoppers thinned. A small numbers of early partygoers began to make their way through the city streets. The festival promised to be huge, in spite of the tension in the city...or perhaps because of it.
An older woman approached, crossing the market with a bit more ease than was possible earlier in the day. She had graying auburn hair and gray eyes. She walked with poise and confidence, her posture almost rigidly straight, and moved straight to Caius.
“Ah, are these the ones you spoke of, Caius?” she said.
“You must be Baecinia.” Sebastian inclined his head. “I am Sebastian Arnyal.” He began to introduce the others when Baecinia interrupted him.
“I can see they are,” said Baecinia. “Tell me, have you been able to locate our friends?”
“Yes,” said Sebastian. “All of them are going to meet you at the Ebon Steed at the agreed-upon time.”
Baecinia smiled thinly. “I hope Caius has negotiated a fair settlement with you for your services? Yes?”
“Actually…” began Ilmarė.
“Good, in that case, you may select the items that you wish to have as payment. I do have one last request, however.”
Sebastian pulled Helac’s note out of his robes. “Before you make any requests of us, we have a message for you.”
Baecinia opened the note and read it quickly. Her eyebrows rose for a moment, but she didn’t say anything.
“Well?” asked Ilmarė. She was beginning to get irritated by all the secrecy.
“I have been offered something more than what I was expecting from our mutual friend,” said Baecinia. “It only makes this next task even more imperative. This evening, I wish to make a last will and testament before a consecrated acolyte of Sarish. I have heard that such arrangements can be made through the scribes at the Silver Cage. Please go there swiftly, and return with such a person. We will bundle up our goods and take all our friends to the Ebon Steed where we can settle this matter. Please bring the scribe there.”
“Last will and testament?” asked Beldin. “Planning on going somewhere?”
“Let’s hope not,” Baecinia said grimly. “This should satisfy the scribes that proper payment will be available to them.” She handed Sebastian an unsealed wrapped around a block of incense. “Please ask specifically for Nutesh val’Mehen when you arrive at the Silver Cage.”
Ilmarė shook her head as they left the square on yet another messenger run.
“We’re here for Nutesh val’Mehen,” said Sebastian.
The acolyte that greeted them cleared his throat. “The Chief Scribe is VERY busy.”
“I’m sure he is,” Sebastian said sternly. “This is important. Got get him.”
Kham threw back his overcoat to display his pistols. The acolyte left quickly.
The acolyte returned with the Chief Scribe. Nutesh val’Mehen was a stocky man, in his late fifties, with steel gray hair and gray eyes. He was wearing bright many colored robes and a fez. He carried an ornate rod in one hand.
“Vhat can I do for you?” asked Nutesh.
“Baecinia has need of your services.” Sebastian handed Nutesh the incense and the note. “It is a matter of great import. You must come immediately.”
Nutesh unfolded the note and scanned it. A flicker of emotions flashed over his face, alternately concerned and determined. Nutesh hefted the incense in one hand as he weighed his decision.
“Yes, of course,” replied the Sarishan. He gathered up a traveling cloak and pulled it around him.
“What’s so special about a block of wax?” asked Kham.
“Dis is no ordinary candle. It is a promise of payment,” said Nutesh. “It is also a Taper of Truth. No lies can be told in its presence. It vill verify dat vhat Baecinia asks me to bear vitness vill be told truly.”
“And we’re bringing you along because…” added Ilmarė.
“Because all who bear vitness vill be Oathbound by Sarish. Dis is no small thing dat Baecinia asks.”
Kham took a swig of his wineskin.
“Don’t worry,” said Sebastian. “The Vorleraths only show up if you break your oath.”
“I didn’t say I was worried,” said Kham. “I just don’t like being bound to oaths.”
“On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t say anything,” added Ilmarė.
Purity and Corruption: Part 6 – A Truth of Purity?
Night fell and the streets were filled with masked and costumed revelers celebrating the Burning Man festival in every way imaginable. A most unusual and unfamiliar sound echoed from every corner and alleyway. It was the sound of laughter and merriment on the city streets of Nishanpur.
Returning with the Sarishan to the Ebon Steed, they found the common room is mostly empty. Caius and the others were settled near the fireplace, discussing matters quietly among themselves. When the Nutesh entered, Baecinia nodded her head and rose, ushering everyone into a private dining room, away from even the few people in the common areas of the inn.
“Good, now we can begin.” Baecinia turned to Sebastian. “Would you do us the honor of shutting the door and making sure we are not disturbed? Listen to our telling, as well, for once this is done, and our record is safe in Sarishan vaults, we would ask you to help us spread this far and wide.”
She turned to Nutesh: “Please witness and record all that is said here. I can assure the honesty of all here, but to lend extra weight to our statements, I would like to use the candle.” Nutesh handed her the large white candle. “By means of this Taper of Truth, let there be no question that all we say is spoken in pure honesty.”
Nutesh readied his quills and parchment and nodded. “Vhen all is done, your testimonies vill be sealed in blood. So it is done, in Sarish’s name. Proceed.”
“I shall begin,” stated Baecinia, “for this tale begins with me and mine. I hereby attest that I am Baecinia val’Virdan, of Erduk. I am the widow of Marcus Octavian val’Virdan, former Autocrat of the Swords of Nier. Ten years ago, before the return of the Sword of the Heavens, we lived in Erduk.
“My husband was not liked by the head of the Sisters of Nier, who was and is Basuhe val’Virdan. He did not allow her the free reign she preferred in her endeavors. Therefore, when a young cleric named Quintus Attulus val’Virdan began rising through the ranks, she took notice.”
Ilmarė inhaled sharply. To hear about a young cleric named Quintus hit a little too close to home.
“She took a personal interest in his activities, as the records of the Sisterhood in Erduk can confirm, since a vision that he was ‘blessed by Nier’ came forth about that time. She groomed him, indirectly, for advancement, bringing him ever closer to herself in both viewpoint and proximity to power.
“At first we took little notice, but we became more concerned as time went by. It became clear that the Sisters heavily influenced Quintus Attus, but many of my husband’s lesser advisors did not see a problem with that. Our culture is one ruled by strength, and my husband was older than I...When his hair began to gray, many among the Swords began to look among themselves for the one who would challenge and defeat him for the leadership of our people; it is our way.
“In time, our situation became more dangerous. Eight years ago, Basuhe herself prophesied that the Sword of the Heavens would return when Quintus Attulus became Autocrat. They had solidified their power block, and were preparing to challenge my husband.
“Under normal circumstances, this would not have been unjust; it is the law of our people that the strong should lead. Although many thought otherwise, it was not at all a foregone conclusion that Quintus would defeat my husband in single combat. My husband was a veteran of many battles, and was far from weak. Quintus was yet young and inexperienced. The others can confirm this.”
There was a scattering of head nods throughout the room.
“When the challenge came, my husband was expecting it, and ready. He was not afraid...We have a saying about old swordsmen: they get to be old swordsmen by being good swordsmen.
“As was traditional, we joined Quintus and his patron Basuhe for dinner in the home of a neutral third party, the night before the challenge. This is done so that the two combatants can evaluate each other, and bloodshed can be avoided if one can be convinced to concede. There is no sense in spilling blood when the outcome is obvious.
“But my husband, as I said, was far from weak, and Quintus was too arrogant, or perhaps too sure of the knowledge of what was to come, to even consider backing down…
“As was traditional, they drank from the same glass, and ate of the same meat, in order that no poison could be suspected. After the meal, we retired home. By morning, my husband felt uneasy, and perhaps a bit unwell. We did not think of poison then, but thought it only nerves. He proceeded to prepare himself for the challenge, and we went forth to the center of the city, where such things are done.”
“Again in keeping with tradition, they fought without armor and with identical weapons. All of the equipment was inspected by a neutral party to assure that there could be no foul play. They squared off, and began to fight…” Baecinia seemed disturbed at the memory.
“It didn’t last long. As the fight progressed, my husband’s breathing began to be labored, and he began to tire, much too quickly, as I knew quite well from observing his daily practices! He still fought well despite this, and both opponents were wounded several times, though not mortally, to be certain. But then, he staggered, and seemed to be in great pain. Quintus closed in and ended the match swiftly, decisively, in that moment.
“After my husband’s death, his body was turned over to me to be prepared for his state funeral the following dawn. As I washed and prepared the corpse, I examined him closely. The priest who was responsible for preparing the funeral pyre inspected the body as well, and we agreed that something was not right.”
Baecinia indicated Jurbe with a nod.
The Nierite acknowledged her. “What she says is true. None of the wounds, by themselves, would have been immediately fatal to him, not even the final blow. His tongue was blackened and swollen. I am certain that he was poisoned, though by what and how I know not, as the food and drink were checked over magically beforehand, and the body did not have the emanations of poison, which I am able to sense, with Nier’s blessing. Everything else could be explained away as an old man’s body failing him when he asked too much of it.”
“Blackened and swollen?” asked Ilmarė. “I’ve seen this poison before. It’s called Blue Sleep.” She had a terrible thought. “What did you do with the body?”
“His body was cremated in a state funeral the dawn after his death. There was no way to delay it. Why?”
Ilmarė opened her mouth and then closed it again. “Nothing. Go on.”
Baecinia resumed her story. “I knew if we could convince enough people of the truth, that my husband had been poisoned before the match, that Quintus’ accession could be nullified. A general tournament would need to be called, and that pretender could be kept from the Autocrat’s chair.
“Instead, what I found was scorn. Too many, it seemed, wanted to believe that my husband was just too old, and weak, to stand up to a challenge. Too many wanted to believe that Quintus could usher in the return of Leonydas, the Sword of the Heavens, as Basuhe had so conveniently foretold. Nevertheless, I pressed my case as best I was able.
“I found myself ostracized by the community in Erduk. Those who stood by me found their positions of prestige gone, their very safety threatened. Caius and I left Erduk. Others stayed. It mattered little; we could not continue our search for justice under those circumstances. We would have found ourselves dead in the night at the hand of Basuhe’s agents, or at least, so we believed.
“When Leonydas DID actually return, we were all stunned. We decided that any chance we might have had for justice was long gone. We went about what was left of our lives as best we could.
“But now Leonydas has disappeared, and the army of the Swords has been defeated in open battle. What better indication that Quintus does not deserve to lead our people? We have another chance now, a chance to bring the truth to light, and I wish to take it.”
The other witnesses then went on to testify. Traevus was an active member of the Sisters of Nier in those days. He recalled seeing Basuhe val’Virdan, the leader of his order, speaking privately with many of the families considered “neutral” in the days of the confrontation, including the family that hosted the final supper for the combatants. Furthermore, it was Basuhe herself who presided over that fateful, final supper, and who cast the divination that showed t the combatants consumed no poisoned food or drink that night.
Caius testified that he was the weapon master in Marcus’ household, and trained with him daily. The exertion of the brief fight should not have tired him so much. He was in better condition than the final fight showed him to be.
“So you two aren’t really married?” asked Kham.
Caius blushed as he exchanged a look with Baecinia.
“During our flight from Erduk and the dark times that followed, we became…close, and some years later we were married.”
“Oh,” said Kham.
“Not to dishonor Marcus’ memory!” Caius added quickly. “Rather in a bond to preserve it and ensure that the truth would be revealed some day.”
Kham was unconvinced. “Sure, whatever.”
Angven testified that she heard the last words of Quintus that day, as he left the field of conflict.
“Quintus was quite pleased,” said the dwarf. She looked very different without a layer of soot covering her. Her hair was up and rubies glittered from her ears. “He muttered: All as was foretold to me.”
“You realize all this is just circumstantial evidence. Even with this,” Ilmarė gestured at the candle, “…magic candle of yours, there is no conclusive proof.”
Baecinia glared at her, but she remained silent.
“Good. It is done,” said Nutesh.
Baecinia and the others each placed a drop of blood on the completed transcription of the testimony. The Sarishan went through the Oathmaking and the parchment shimmered with purple light for a moment.
“Now,” Baecinia stated, “we can escort the scribe back to his home, and we can begin planning on how to release this information to the whole city!”
Sebastian nodded in approval. “If Nishanpur is to be won back from the Nierites, it must be through a war of ideas.”
Kham looked sideways at the dark-kin. “Let’s hope none of your ideas kills us.”
Purity and Corruption: Part 7a – A Truth of Corruption?
Escorting Nutesh val’Mehen back to the Silver Cage was an uneventful but stonily silent trip. Whatever Nutesh thought about the issue, he decided to keep to himself.
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” said Ilmarė. “Once her story becomes public, what course of action does she intend to pursue to try and see the matter fully investigated?”
“More importantly,” said Sebastian, “how does she stay alive long enough to find out? The Auotcrat won’t tolerate this.”
As they returned to the Ebon Steed, flames exploded out of one of the windows.
Kham drew two pistols. “Looks like someone got to Baecinia first!”
Beldin barreled forward with his axe into the doorway. Sebastian followed behind.
“Nierites!” shouted Beldin. “Don’t they ever give up?”
Baecinia and her companions were buried under a pile of tables. A Nierite sorcerer, fingertips still trailing smoke, stood on top of a table in the middle of the tavern. The dead and dying lay scattered like so much kindling all around him. Behind the sorcerer, with their backs to the door, were five Swords of Nier.
“Heretics!” The sorcerer whirled. “You!” he pointed at Kham. “I’ll bring your smoking corpse to the Autocrat myself! Radius Incensio!”
A stream of flames spiraled from the sorcerer’s outstretched finger. He was aiming, not at Kham’s chest, but at his pistols. The explosion would blow both of his hands off…
Someone slammed him aside. Kham rolled to his feet, only to see Ilmarė take the brunt of the attack. The flames blew her backwards into the wall. She fell down, unconscious.
Kham turned to help the elorii but hesitated.
“Go!” shouted Sebastian. “I’ll cover you!” The dark-kin sorcerer pointed at the Nierites. “Incendiaries globus!”
The ensuing explosion forced the Nierites to dive to the sides.
Kham holstered his pistols and pulled a healing potion from his overcoat. He poured it down Ilmarė’s throat. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Shh.” Kham put another potion in her hand. “Apology accepted.” The val’s expression turned deadly serious as he drew his pistols again.
Beldin slammed into one of the Nierites, but the Sword of Nier blocked it with his greatsword. It was the first time Beldin had faced a serious challenge from a human foe.
“Fool,” shouted one of the Swords of Nier. “Suffer Nier’s fiery wrath!” Flames blasted from the greatsword, nearly singing Sebastian.
“A Nierite priest!” shouted Sebastian. “They dress just like the Swords!”
“On him!” shouted Kham. He fired from each pistol. One Sword of Nier’s head bucked backwards, blood spouting out of his helmet.
Another Sword of Nier slashed downwards, nearly cutting Kham in twain. He fell backwards.
Kham rapped one knuckle on the breastplate he wore beneath his overcoat. “Good thing I have ole Daemonscar here.” Kham holstered the pistols and hopped to his feet in one smooth motion.
The Sword of Nier grinned beneath his helmet. “Come, heretic. I want you to die with your weapons in your hands.”
Kham drew Talon and Coomb’s dagger. “My turn.”
Beldin barely managed to knock aside a greatsword blow with his shield. It left his arm numb. He hacked downwards at the man’s leg, dropping the Nierite in mid-swing.
Another Nierite struck again, this time wrenching the shield out of his grip.
“Take out the dwarf!” shouted the sorcerer. “The rest will fall without him!”
Something cold and unyielding slid itself through Beldin’s ribs. He gritted his teeth. “It’ll take more than that…” he gasped, yanking himself forward, “to stop…a dwarf!” Beldin hacked the defenseless Nierite nearly in two, greatsword still jutting from his back.
There was a strange beat that made them all pause. It was someone stomping one foot. The voice that accompanied the beat demanded attention.
Ilmarė was singing. Gone was the beautiful voice that had encouraged them to fight for her, kill for her, die for her. It was replaced by something guttural and angry and ugly.
It was a war chant.
“Im no mûl an hîr alcuinar!” screamed Ilmarė. She was no slave to any god.
Kham was hard pressed to stop the Nierite. He had to use both Talon and his dagger to catch any blow the greatsword might land, putting him on the defensive.
“Sebastian, do something!” he shouted over his shoulder. “I can’t keep this up forever!”
“I’m trying,” Sebastian yelled back. He ducked a greatsword swing as the Nierite priest closed the gap between them. “But I’m a little busy!”
“I will finish this,” snarled the sorcerer. He raised his hands to cast another spell. “Incendiares—“
Two arrows sprouted out of the sorcerer’s open palms. He opened his mouth to scream, but another arrow shaft pierced the back of his mouth.
“Im no mûl an ardhon almeleth!” screamed Ilmarė. She was no slave to an uncaring world.
The Nierite amulet pulsed at her throat.
A Nierite lifted his greatsword over Beldin’s head. The dwarf just looked up; he couldn’t possibly get out of the way, not with a greatsword piercing his chest.
“Maeth,” screamed Ilmarė. Fight!
The Nierite’s aim was ruined when an arrow shivered out of his arm. Beldin took the opportunity to cut the man’s legs out from beneath him.
The Nierite priest knocked Sebastian to the ground with a wide swing. The priest lifted his greatsword over his head.
“Maeth!”
An arrow speared both of the priest’s wrists, pinning them together. He dropped the greatsword, staring at his wrists in disbelief.
Sebastian raised one palm and flames blasted into the Nierite at point-blank range. His melting corpse fell to its knees.
Kham found an opening in the last Nierite’s defenses and plunged both blades into the man’s chest. He withdrew them, waiting for the inevitable death rattle.
The Nierite kept coming. He wound up for another swing with his greatsword…
”MAETH!”
An arrow protruded from the Nierite’s eye socket. He fell backwards without a sound.
Finally, the killing stopped. Only the crackling of the flames and the moans of the wounded could be heard.
”Althares!” Kham exclaimed as he took in the carnage. “She never stopped…”
Arrows jutted from every Nierite. They looked like pincushions, their bodies almost impossible to recognize. Arrows sprouted from every limb, in men that were most certainly dead already.
Finally, the amulet at Ilmarė’s throat stopped pulsing. The elf dropped her bow to the ground and held her face in her hands.
Sebastian turned towards her but Beldin, wincing in pain, stopped him. “Let’s help the ones with wounds we can heal,” he said. Then he yanked the greatsword out of his abdomen.
Purity and Corruption: Part 7b – A Truth of Corruption?
“Your timing is certainly impeccable,” Baecinia said after the conflict was over. “I know I haven’t seen the last of them...but it is no matter. Tell me: did Nutesh val’Mehen make it back to the Silver Cage?”
“He did,” said Sebastian grimly.
“Good. Thanks to you, and our mutual friends, we have shelter and a safe way to escape the city. The message will come out, and in a way that no one will miss it.”
“Yeah, a real win for everybody,” said Kham. “I’m not going to miss this place.”
“Nor I,” said Sebastian. “I only hope what we’ve done here is enough.”
“You have my sincerest thanks. I’m sure we will meet again, and I hope that I will be able to aid you even half as much as you have aided me.”
With that final parting comment, she and her conspirators made their way down the street, disappearing into the throngs of evening travelers in Nishanpur.
“Can we go now?” asked Kham.
“Helac will find us safe passage out,” said Sebastian. “There’s just one last person we need to pick up.”
Purity and Corruption: Part 8 – And Justice for All
In an occurrence nearly unheard of elsewhere, Vlad was hauled off to the gaol in the Menagerie of the Red Fist. His gear was stripped from him, and in a matter of hours he found himself in a Court of the City, in the Temple Quarter. Nearly a week went by, with only a sullen guard who slipped him moldy bread and dirty water to speak to.
Finally, a Nierite clerk appeared.
“Do you wish a legal advisor?” asked the bored-looking Nierite clerk.
“How much?”
“A mere 100 Baht an hour,” said the clerk.
Vlad blinked. “I’m not sure if I have that much…”
Another clerk handed the first clerk a note. He read it, looked up at Vlad, and back at the note. “Not to worry. A defense counsel has been assigned to you.” He left.
Not one but four Sarishan barristers appeared soon after.
“Do I really need all of you?” asked Vlad in disbelief.
“You need all the help you can get,” said clerk number one. “We have crafted a statement for you. You will be required to swear on Sarish to the truth; failure means the Vorlerath.”
Vlad swallowed hard.
“Don’t worry,” said the second clerk. “You must only tell the literal truth. And the literal truth can mean many things. For example, you did hit a Nierite soldier, that’s true. But if the Nierite was threatening you, that’s something else.”
The third clerk handed him the note. “Now memorize it.”
Vlad looked over at the fourth clerk. “And what are you here for?”
“Me?” the clerk smiled. “I am dedicated to ‘speaking’ to the judge on your behalf.”
Once he had memorized his defense, they left him. Shortly afterward, Vlad was brought in chains before a judge.
A Red Fist soldier, along with several civilian witnesses, stood opposite him. Then the judge walked in, and the rest of the court was seated.
Guards kept Vlad standing throughout the proceedings. He was asked to swear his oath by Sarish…
His Oath was witnessed, as were those of the opposing Swords of Nier. The Red Fist and witnesses then left the court. No questions were permitted.
The Erdukeen judge then carefully considered…and reached a verdict.
For the remainder of that night and the two nights following the confrontation, the Festival of the Burning Man descended on the city. The night of the festival, amid the parties, fireworks, and debauchery, a strange thing occurred.
Vlad laughed as he read the tale of Baecinia’s testimony, written on the back of a “Free Vlad!” poster. “So they really made that much of a fuss over me?”
“Indeed, you became a symbol of Nierite oppression,” said Sebastian with a smirk as they descended through the grimy sewers beneath Nishanpur. “Being a Milandisian made you quite a flash point of controversy.”
Kham clapped Vlad on the back. “And it got the heat off of me for once.”
“Yeah,” Vlad muttered. “Thanks for getting me in trouble in the first place.”
“Don’t thank me,” Kham grinned. “Thank Sebastian! He paid for all those high priced barristers.”
Sebastian chuckled. “You can repay me when you’re back on you’re feet.”
“I didn’t lose anything!” Vlad was beaming. “They even gave me all my equipment back. I still can’t believe it!”
Beldin shook his head in disbelief. “Baecinia’s testimony was so perfectly copied word-for-word that the Sarishan scribes had to be involved. I wonder how much she HAD really paid them for the service.”
“It was worth it,” said Sebastian. “Anything that reveals the corruption of the occup…” he swayed a bit, “…occupation…”
Sebastian fell forward. Vlad caught him.
When Sebastian’s hood fell back, they could see that his face was covered in splotches.
Beldin bit his lip. “Sebastian’s been covering up his illness. He didn’t want you to know how bad it was.”
Ilmarė sloshed through the muck to stare down at Sebastian in Vlad’s arms.
“We can take him to Faerdlau,” she said without a hint of passion. “There are Milandisian Sisters there that can heal him. It’s the closest friendly town. But we must hurry.”
She walked off into the darkness.
Vlad hoisted Sebastian over one shoulder as he got to his feet. “Since when does Ilmarė recommend human priests?”
“She’s just got a new appreciation for her friends.” Beldin looked sadly at Sebastian. “Old and new.”
This is a Year One Living Arcanis adventure, “I Know Thee, Brother” by Eric Wiener, set in the Arcanis setting. You can read more about Arcanis at Onara Online. Please note: This adventure contains spoilers!
Our cast of characters includes:
• Dungeon Master: Michael Tresca (http://michael.tresca.net)
• Kham Val’Abebi (val rogue/psychic warrior) played by Jeremy Ortiz (http://www.ninjarobotstudios.com)
• Ilmarė Galen (elf bard/fighter) played by Amber Tresca
• Vlad Martell (human fighter) played by Matt Hammer
Sebastian’s had the plague for a while now. It wasn’t intentional; I had no idea if George was going to show up to the game in which the Sorcerer-King’s agent was trying to get revenge. But it just so happened that not only did the Commandant blow himself up, he spread the disease too.
When I discovered that this adventure involved curing a disease, it was a perfect fit for when George couldn’t make a game. It also involved some interesting role-playing opportunities.
I had to dance a bit here: the explanation for why a human has psychic powers is pretty weak (the little rat idol made him do it, basically) and the ratmen (changed to wererats here) didn’t have much motivation. So I played fast and loose and rewrote a lot.
Except for Skiz. I’m a fan of the book Jhereg by Steven Brust; I’m sure you’ll see the similarities.
Seriously, what red-blooded DM can pass up a talking rat cohort?
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