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!
On the anniversary of her birth, Signora Roseanna di Raprezzi sat in a parlor of her family’s estate in Pol Henna, gently stroking the neck of a small dragon on her lap. Her seven guests waited for her to begin speaking. The few who did not know her stared: at the pseudodragon, at her silver-gray hair.
Accustomed to ignoring such stares, Rose began describing her mother’s sacrifice. The newcomers, like most of Pol Hennan society, had never heard this story. Rose’s family had kept the secret close.
Rose’s older brother, eighteen-year-old Tavi, listened quietly to the tale, though he knew it as well as he knew every vulnerable point where his sword might enter a living body. From his sister’s birth, he had been raised as her guardian, forsaking all the other duties and pleasures a young Hennan boy of noble blood might have enjoyed. Now, belying his apparent calm, a hummingbird was zipping and diving around his head: his familiar, Phoebe. Her voice buzzed in his mind: She’s really going to do it! It’s really tonight! Finally finally finally finally! Tavi allowed himself a slight smile, but kept his attention on his sister.
Rose reached the end of her story and took a deep breath, looking around the room. “I’ve spent my whole life being told that I’m the Sacrifice of Death, and yet, in my whole life, nothing strange has ever happened to me . . . apart, perhaps, from my hair color,” she added, with a wry twitch of a grin. “I’m a normal sorcerer, just like everyone else in my family. I have no special talents, but people treat me differently, cautiously, as if I am dangerous. Perhaps they are right to. Perhaps not. But I’m tired of waiting to find out." She paused, determined. "Today is my sixteenth birthday. I have reached my age of majority. My family is hosting a ball in my honor, and afterwards, while everyone is sleeping off the wine, I intend to sneak away. And I am asking all of you to go on that journey with me, to help me find out what it means to be what I am . . . whatever that may ultimately entail.”
Tavi knew that he wasn’t the only person in the room feeling pride as he listened to his sister’s words. He could tell that the slight yet intimidating woman in her late twenties standing next to him was radiating approval, though to anyone else she probably just looked fierce. Her dark hair tumbled down over her armor, which was adorned with a symbol of the Defiers of the Wind, an obscure sect of Sedellus. Her flail hung at her side. Her hands were covered in burn scars. When Rose finished speaking, she broke the ensuing silence. “I go where you go.”
Rose nodded to the woman and turned to the rest of the group. “This is Dame Filomena. She has tutored my brother and me since we were children.”
Mena scanned the room. “Just ‘Mena’ is fine.”
Rose continued, signaling to Tavi. “My brother, of course, is Signor Octavian di Raprezzi.”
Tavi gave a well-practiced regal nod as the eyes in the room turned to him. The hummingbird made a dizzying swoop past his head. Why is she still talking? Why can’t we go?
We have to get through the introductions first, Phoebe, he thought, tamping down on his own impatience.
Everyone knows you – done and done. Come on, come on!
Tavi cleared his throat. “I’m honored to be accompanying my sister,” he said. He turned to a strikingly nondescript man in the livery of the di Raprezzi family standing behind him. “I have chosen Marcus, of our household guard, to accompany us as well.” Marcus nodded silently. Phoebe began flitting from one of Marcus’s ears to the other, buzzing in each of them in turn. He refused to flinch.
Rose motioned toward a young, half-elven woman standing next to her. “This is Lady Chelesta Little Branch Rossi, one of my ladies in waiting. Lady Chelesta?”
Chelesta, who had been Rose’s playmate since they were small children, breezed past Rose’s formality. “Everyone calls me Twiggy,” she said cheerfully. She was barely older than her mistress, and well-described by her nickname. She wore her auburn hair down, with two narrow braids framing her face. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses encircled her eager eyes. “I’m looking forward to—this is exciting—I think.” Suddenly a little shy, Twiggy made a curtsy to the group and then dropped her hand into her pocket, which wriggled as if it were alive.
Rose next turned her attention to the three strangers, those from outside the di Raprezzi household. She gestured first toward the youngest person in the room, a fifteen-year-old girl wearing finely made blue religious robes. “Blessed Daughter Savina di Infusino – “
A man in his mid-twenties wearing two war hammers interrupted her. He had spent her recital making notes in a small leather notepad. “Perhaps I violate the etiquette of your beautiful city,” he said, his confident, foreign-accented voice seeming loud in the parlor, “but I would like to clarify immediately one or two smallish points. You are telling me that a goddess is out to get you?”
Rose looked startled, but maintained her gracious tone. “This is our guide -- “
The man interrupted again with genial impatience. “Yes, yes, Jan Kormick of Dar Und, a pleasure to meet you all. I would like to return to my question about the goddess of evil, if you would be so kind.”
Tavi smirked. Jan Kormick, legend of the Academy. Every year the stories about his expulsion get grander. I bet they’re still naming pranks after him today. Guess he’s gotten all grown-up and respectable.
Respectable? Bo-ring.
Mena spoke up. “We are not precisely certain what the Twilight Lurker wants with Rose.”
“Ah.” Kormick tapped his pen on his pad as he squinted at Mena. “So, in sum, you have retained me to guide these upstanding young noblepeople on a delightful vacation that involves the goddess of death, evil, and deceit in some as-yet unspecified way?”
“Indeed.”
Kormick nodded sagely, glanced back over his writing, and closed the book. “Very well. There is a reasonable chance that you charmingly naive youths will venture forth from this place and meet unnatural, bloody deaths.”
The girl in the fine blue robes gasped. “Is that true?” she whispered.
“I never lie,” Kormick declared cheerfully. “But take heart, take heart,” he continued. “There is also a reasonable chance that I may be wrong. “ He leaned to Marcus, muttering, “I usually am not wrong.”
Rose turned back to the young woman, who still looked pale. “As I was saying: this is the Blessed Daughter Savina di Infusino, daughter of one of Pol Henna’s oldest families and also an acolyte healer at the Temple of the Givers.”
Savina glanced around the room, her eyes skipping off Kormick to linger on Tavi, her fingers shyly touching the Alirrian holy symbol on her necklace. “I – I don’t really know why I’m here,” she stammered. “I mean – what help could I possibly be?”
Rose gave her a strange, considering look. “I asked the Givers to send the most innocent among them. I thought her input might be useful.” Silence fell. Savina stared at Rose, wide-eyed. Another note found its way into Kormick’s pad. Tavi was amused to see them disconcerted: It’s just smart planning, people, he thought. Who better to repel Sedellus than the sweetest Alirrian kid we can find?
Rose glanced past Savina to the red-haired, plainly dressed woman in her late twenties standing silently behind her. “I assume your slave can be trusted?”
“Yes, of course. Her name is – um – Arden.” Savina was still preoccupied by Rose’s pronouncement.
Kormick studied the slave closely. “How long have you owned her?”
“She’s not one of my family’s – she belongs to the Temple. The Honored Mother sent her to help take care of me . . . I hope that’s all right.”
Kormick grunted skeptically, his eyes on the dull glint of a metal cuff that circled the slave’s left wrist, half-hidden by her cloak. Arden’s gaze remained downcast, just as it had been through the entire conference: keeping her place, not presuming to listen to the conversation of her betters. Tavi put her out of his mind. So did his sister.
“Thank you for accompanying me, Blessed Daughter,” Rose said. “Thank you all.”
That’s everybody, there’s no one else, that’s it, race you to the door!
No, now we need to come up with a plan, Pheebs..
Phoebe came to a screeching halt two inches from Tavi’s right eye.
Good start! Would it be possible to post some of the character details, without taking too much from the story? I'm trying to figure out who/what Phoebe is.
That's a perfectly good question, now that I think about it. While A Rose on the Wind is a 4th Ed game, certain critical elements of the world of the Halmae, well established in the previous campaign, are no longer present in 4th Ed.
Like, say, familiars.
There's just no way that Lira's kids ain't gonna have familiars.
So arcane casters in the 4th Ed Halmae still have the option of having familiars, tho' they don't provide any in-game benefit. They're just there for role-playing purposes. So what is Phoebe? She's just flying, hyperactive flavor text.
Another major change in 4th Ed is the distinction between sorcerers and wizards. This was a major element of the Halmae, which I wasn't gonna change just because the rules changed.
The difference between sorcerers and wizards in the Halmae is now no-longer class based, but purely background based. Wizards learn their powers while sorcerers are born to them, and the class a player chooses to represent that distinction with is irrelevant. Thus, while Tavi's class is Swordmage, his background is that he was born with his sorcerous powers. Same would be true if he'd chosen Wizard. Or Warlock. Or, heck, even Fighter, if he'd wanted to push the skinning that far.
In fact, as a general rule, I've completely decoupled skin from stats. Thus, Arden uses the Hafling race as her racial stats, even though in game she's fully human. She's merely slight, weak, and lucky. Jan is also human, and a sorcerer to boot, but uses the Dragonborn class to represent this; the Dragonborn breath weapon power is skinned as part of his sorcery.
For those who are curious, the party line-up, in approximate order of rank is:
Tavi di Raprezzi: PC Swordmage
Roseanna di Raprezzi: NPC
Savina di Infusino: PC Cleric
Dame Filomena: PC Warlord
Chelesta "Twiggy" Rossi: PC Wizard
Jan Kormick: PC Ranger
Arden (aka "Slave"): PC Rogue
There is also Marcus, who is, er, well, someone created him as part of the party but, due to that whole grown-up and breeding thing, hasn't actually managed to make it to a game yet. We'll refer to him as Schroedinger's PC. You're not sure if he's there or not unless you try to look at him.
Any other questions?
Also, thanks so much for all the kind words, everyone; I've been meaning to respond but have been really swamped. It's good to be back.
(And yes, Rughat, I was going back re-reading the old Story Hour when prepping the new campaign, and came across your prediction. It had already happened by the time I re-discovered it, but I laughed myself silly nonetheless.)
I can't tell you how happy I am to see a new Halmae story hour. I subscribed to the last one and was sorry to see it go. I thought it was the best of the story hours that I had read!. I actually think I have it printed out somewhere. I may just have to go back a re-read it again. Keep the posts coming!!
Beldar
__________________ Growing Older, But Not Up
-Jimmy Buffett
Last edited by beldar1215; 3rd April 2009 at 09:22 PM..
Reason: Spelling error
"Rose," said Tavi, wincing slightly as Phoebe thrummed insistently by his temple, "maybe we should discuss the plan."
Rose gestured to the group. "That is a matter for you, really. I know where I wish to go first, but I'll leave all the decisions on this journey up to you. You will determine my path."
"An unorthodox way to go on a quest of self-discovery," observed Kormick, "but you're the client."
"I . . . don't understand," ventured Savina.
Rose shifted uncomfortably. "I choose to rely on your judgment,” she said, “because I fear to trust my own. There is a destiny upon me, and given who has placed it there, it is unlikely to be anything good. If I make the decisions . . . I fear that may hasten an ending I would not wish on the rest of you. I choose to seek my destiny because I can no longer bear to wait for it. Beyond that, I would rely on you to make all other choices for me.” She paused. "As I said, however, I do have a suggestion for where to start. During her travels, many years ago, my mother visited an oracle of Alirria at a spring deep in the Ketkath Mountains, somewhere near the Ironroot Mines. I am hoping that, if we can find it, this oracle may offer the insight I seek."
"That's—that's very far away," said Savina.
"Not just far,” added Twiggy. “It's in the Sovereignty of Kettenek. I've heard Dona Giovanna tell stories about the Sovereignty. Those are not nice people."
“Distance is not a concern,” Rose explained. "My family controls the teleport center here in Pol Henna. If we can reach that place tonight, when it is deserted, we can teleport directly from here to the city of Lord's Edge, in the Sovereignty, saving ourselves at least that much of the journey."
"Excellent," said Kormick. "And this teleport center is right next door and very easy for members of your family to operate, yes?"
"Not quite," Rose answered.
Kormick sighed theatrically and raised both eyebrows, pen poised.
"It isn't very far," Rose explained, "though we won't be going through the best part of town . . . and we will have to avoid the guards long enough to activate the circle once we get there . . .”
“Yes, of course, thugs and guards, thugs and guards.” Kormick tapped his pen on his palm. "Perhaps now would be an excellent time to review who else may try to stop us from enjoying this little jaunt," he continued, looking around expectantly. "You," he said to Mena, “the frightening woman who hired me – won't your colleagues object to this young lady's departure?'
"The Church of Sedellus will not stand in our way," Mena stated.
"Anyone else?" demanded Kormick. "Any other potential hiccups that it would be productive to consider in advance?"
“Our biggest problem,” Rose offered, “might be sneaking out of the house. You see, I think my mother may suspect what I'm doing, and she is powerfully against my departure."
"To rephrase," Kormick said, "your rich and powerful sorcerer mother will pursue us relentlessly and stop us any way she can?"
Rose, Tavi, Mena, and Twiggy shared a collective look. "Mother is pretty determined to keep Rose safe," Tavi conceded. "And when she's determined to do something . . . "
At that, Savina cleared her throat politely. "Um, we don't all have to sneak out," she said. "I think I'll leave with the rest of the party guests and wait for you outside."
“Very well,” said Mena, her attention on the task at hand. "We will also need a way to conceal Rose’s identity, at least until we get out of Pol Henna. Too many people will recognize her by her hair.”
Twiggy jumped in. “Perhaps there is magic we can use, or --”
“There is this ingenious invention you may have heard of, called a hat,” Kormick said. “That should be sufficient, provided we do not make a scene. But let us also take steps to avoid being followed. Pack for the desert, for Ebis. That will set any followers off our track.”
"Please . . . do we have to be so sneaky?" asked Savina quietly.
This time, Kormick took a moment to hold her eyes with his own. "Sneaking is how we avoid being caught by the young lady's magical mother," he explained. "And she is only the first danger. There will be many more, and they will be worse. You are going to find yourself . . . a little bit uncomfortable from time to time, yes? For now, for secrecy, you must travel without relying on the power of your names. Your wealth—well, let's be honest, your wealth in the world will still be extremely helpful—but you must each leave your family's reputation behind. Now: it's time to make preparations. We'll meet here at midnight."
His words met with a shocked silence.
"But your family's reputation is your wealth in the world!" blurted out Twiggy. She looked to Rose, her eyes questioning. Rose’s eyes returned Twiggy's uncertainty as she swallowed and reached out to squeeze Twiggy's hand.
Savina shifted her feet nervously in her delicate, embroidered slippers.
Even Tavi crossed his arms in his impeccably tailored tunic, feeling a twinge of real unease for the first time. His entire life had been defined by his role in his family. And that's not going to change, he reminded himself. My job is Rose.
CAN WE GO NOW, TAVI? I HAVE BEEN VERY VERY VERY PATIENT!
Looking at them all, Kormick sighed. "As I said,” he muttered to Marcus, “unnatural, bloody deaths." He stood up and flashed what was meant to be a hearty, encouraging grin. "Enjoy the ball, my friends!"
The hall glittered with celebration. The crystal chandeliers sparkled, the parquet floors shone, and the marble balusters were positively reflective. A long table of hors d’oeuvres stood at one end of the hall, attended to by a bustling – yet nearly invisible – battalion of servants, and the punch bowl seemed always to be full. A string quartet played in the corner. Anyone who was anyone was there. In fact, a great many people were there who were not quite anyone, but who were just close enough to being someone that it would be unseemly to refuse them entrance. The di Raprezzis were gracious hosts, and all of Pol Henna knew it.
Dante and Giovanna di Raprezzi – Rose’s father and mother – presided over the event with grace. They were a striking couple, not only for their beauty, but also for their confidence. The di Raprezzi family’s trade relationships continued to bring them great wealth; their alliance with the di Vittanis (that is, Giovanna’s family) had given them great influence in the Pol Hennan council; and the di Raprezzi Academy for Arcane Studies, now in its fifteenth year of operation, attracted many of the best and most skilled sorcerous students from throughout the Peninsular Alliance and beyond. As the couple mingled through the crowd, a weasel wound its way about Giovanna’s gem-green dress and under her red hair, settling over her shoulders like a stole. If anyone thought it unusual – and few did – no one dared comment.
As Rose descended the stairway, Dante and Giovanna stopped to watch – Dante beaming with quiet pride, and Giovanna smiling with a gracious charm belied only by her restless, tired eyes. But if Rose shared any of her mother’s concern, her looks did not betray it. She was ready for what this night would bring. First, the gala. Then, whatever came next.
To the trained eye, Twiggy – standing several steps behind Rose – might have seemed slightly less sanguine. But then, anyone would seem less sanguine than Rose. And few eyes would be trained on Twiggy. Not when there was so much else going on.
###
Tavi knew the minute Rose entered the ballroom. He always knew exactly where she was, like a sixth sense. Maybe it was a sort of sixth sense, given his sorcerous abilities. More likely, it had grown from the years of training, years of watching. Years of being ready.
He watched Rose kiss first their father, then their mother on the cheeks. Mother’s going to kill us all if she catches us, he thought. Me especially, for letting Rose leave like this… Ah well. He shrugged mentally. He was Rose’s protector, even if he was protecting her from their own mother.
“Good evening, Signor Tavi,” said a young lady, approaching Tavi from the side.
It was Bianca di Angiuli, the daughter of one of the di Raprezzi family’s key allies on the Pol Hennan council. “Good evening, Signora Bianca.”
Ooh! Ooh! A new person! Maybe she wants to dance!
She smiled, tipping her head coquettishly. “I couldn’t help but notice how handsomely you are dressed tonight, Signor Tavi.”
“Thank you.” Tavi kept an eye and a half on Rose. “You look lovely as well.”
“You’re too kind,” she replied, with a slight curtsy. “I would be honored,” she said, “and my father would be as well,” she added, “If Pol Henna’s most eligible bachelor would do me the honor of a dance.”
Tavi nodded distractedly. “Yes, a dance, certainly. A bit later? I will find you.” He wasn’t in a dancing mood, but politics and courtesy did have their demands.
No, dance now! Dance now! Phoebe flitted from one shoulder to another.
There’ll be plenty of time for dancing, Phoebe. Don’t worry.
A busy night? YESS!
Tavi kissed Bianca’s hand lightly as she returned to the crowd.
###
Mena scanned the hall, standing between Rose and the door, arms folded. In her Defiers’ regalia, she was one of the few visibly armed individuals in the room. But she was nearly always armed, and obviously dangerous even when she wasn’t.
She scanned the hall again. It was unlikely that anything . . . untoward was going to happen to Rose tonight. Not during the ball, anyway. Once they headed out, it was another story, but the ball should be relatively peaceful.
Of course, that kind of lax thinking tended to get people killed.
So she scanned the hall again.
As she did, she spotted Dame The Scourge moving towards her. The Scourge was the leader of Pol Henna’s order of the Defiers of the Wind, and someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a well-lit alley.
“Dame Searing,” The Scourge began, referring to Mena by her formal name, “I am pleased to observe your attentiveness.”
“The Evil Bitch’s deeds may find us at any moment.”
“We listen for her always,” The Scourge replied. “And even now, we have rooted out a nest of the Children of the Wind.”
“Progress.”
The Scourge nodded. “And what of your charge?”
Mena paused. “She is . . . extremely normal.”
The Scourge set her jaw. “And that is strange enough. I don’t know how you can stand it. Staying cooped up in a place like this instead of riding out with us to frustrate the works of the Harlot of the Air. You should be punishing evil, not . . . teaching.” She spat the word out like a curse.
Mena kept scanning the room. “Evil lurks in many places,” she said, “and must be fought on every front . . .”
###
“Tavi!”
Rose was by the punch bowl, exchanging a whispered word with Twiggy, when Tavi heard a voice call his name.
After she pushed her way past several people, Tavi could see that the voice came from Francesca di Turrini. Her family was part of the “new money” voting bloc.
She crossed her arms. “Nice party.”
Tavi smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”
“We should get married.”
Tavi coughed politely. “Would . . . you like to dance?”
“No,” she replied. “Look, I don’t exactly swing your way, and you’ve got your own thing or whatever, but my mother has been on my back. So you and me, heir and a spare, and we’ll call it quits and I can get back to my life and you can get back to yours.”
Tavi pursed his lips. “I’ll . . . think about it. If you’ll excuse me…”
Tavi quickly made his way away from the scowling Francesca. Midnight can’t come fast enough, he thought.
That’s what I say!
###
Savina stood near the wall, nursing a glass of punch. Arden stood behind her and to the side, in the shadow of a curtain.
Are they sure they meant to send me? Savina thought. Surely it’s a mistake. I know Rose said she wanted the most innocent among the Givers . . . but I’ve only just taken my orders! There’s so much I don’t know. How can I be the most . . . anything? And sneaking off like this? Against the wishes of Dona Giovanna di Raprezzi? If we get caught, we could get into trouble. To say nothing of all that travelling . . . I’ll have to make sure I pack a tent—
Her revery was disturbed by the approach of a older noble gentleman, his gray temples a stark contrast against his black outfit. He gave a distinguished nod. “Signora Savina.”
Savina curtsied, recognizing him as Vittorio di Avanzo, the leader of the largest minority Council faction . . . the faction that had been the majority until Dona Giovanna’s family had replaced them. “Signor Vittorio.”
“I would like to be the first to congratulate you,” he began, “on your sixteenth birthday.”
Savina blushed. “Yes, in one month . . . ”
“I need hardly point out that you will be of marriageable age that day. And that I, myself, am recently widowed . . .”
Savina’s eyes widened. “I . . . that is . . ."
”There is great benefit that might come of an alliance between our houses. Your family has remained neutral in the factional politics of the Council. A noble sentiment, I’m sure, but it has long kept you from the heights of power a family as distinguished as yours demands. But, with your family’s vote joined to our faction, we would have enough votes on the Council to—”
“My father is the politician,” she demurred. “I do not have experience in. . .”
Vittorio grasped Savina by the wrist. “I recommend you consult with your father, then,” he said, through clenched teeth. “Things in Pol Henna will change, I assure you, and when they do, friends will be remembered.”
He had barely time to hiss out the words before Arden approached, protectively. “Blessed Daughter? Forgive me, an urgent matter requires your attention.”
Vittorio did not even look to see who the voice came from. “My lady,” he said, “we are occupied.”
Arden lowered her head. “I beg your pardon, m’lord, but I am no lady.”
Vittorio turned in confusion, finally realizing it was a slave who had addressed him. He recoiled at discovering his inadvertent show of respect . . . but he did release Savina’s wrist. “Pray, speak with your father,” he whispered. “I will be in touch.”
A pair of dancers twirled by as he strode away.
Savina shuddered.
###
Dame Mena was introducing Rose to one of the Harbingers when Vincente di Ginola, holding the hand of his 8-year old daughter Donatella, approached Tavi. Vincente gave a shallow bow. Donatella squirmed.
“Signor Tavi,” Vincente began, “I would like to discuss a subject of mutual interest.” A smile twitched on his lips.
Tavi nodded politely, as courtesy dictated. “Indeed, Signor Vincente. How may I help you?”
“It is common knowledge that while you have received several offers of marriage, your parents have so far declined to accept any of them. I understand that you and your family have certain . . . priorities in this area,” he continued, “and I believe that my Donatella may prove . . . attractive as a bride.”
Tavi blinked.
Vincente nudged his daughter. “Show him, Donnie.”
“Daaaad!”
“Just like we practiced,” he hissed.
Donatella frowned, slumped her shoulders, and waved with her right hand. One, two, three, four, five little flames popped out from the tips of her fingers.
Vincente, beaming with pride, raised an eyebrow to Tavi. “Naturally, the wedding itself could be delayed.”
Tavi blinked. Then he blinked again. He blinked once more, just to be sure.
“As you know,” Tavi began, slowly, “as head of the family, my grandmother has the final word on the matter of my marriage. I’d have to consult with her—”
But a sudden commotion at the far end of the hall caught his attention. His eyes whipped first to Rose. Satisfied that she was perfectly safe, standing as she was within a few feet of Dame Mena, his eyes whipped back towards the commotion.
PLAYERS
WisdomLikeSilence (who once played Reyu)
jonrog1
Thatch (who once played ... duh)
Jenber
Ilex
ellinor
CHARACTERS
Tavi
Savina
Mena
Twiggy
Kormick
Arden
And for fabulous bonus points... Who will Lira's player, Spyscribe, play when she is able to join the campaign next month? (Hint: This question defies Kettenek's Justice because we have no idea what the answer is.)
And for fabulous bonus points... Who will Lira's player, Spyscribe, play when she is able to join the campaign next month?
Ooo! Ooo! I know! I know! I want my fabulous bonus points!
__________________ Welcome to the Halmae
Where all the fighters are strong, all the sorcerers are good-looking, and all of the familiars are above average.
Rughat gets a solid two points! Correct on Tavi and Kormick. Incorrect on Arden, but the relevant players have agreed that it's a smart guess nonetheless.
And spyscribe, sure, you may know the answer to the fabulous bonus question, just as I may know the secrets of unified field theory, but I demand proof of your knowledge before any points shall be awarded.
It was a considerable understatement to say that as Jan Kormick strode into the hall, his stark white robes were conspicuous. Even more conspicuous were the two warhammers he wore by his side. But most conspicuous of all was the enormous silver holy symbol around his neck: the symbol of the Justicars. The hall became noticeably quieter as several partygoers stopped to stare.
Kormick picked up a canapé and poured himself a glass of punch.
After some time, a woman in a black robe and a silver clasp in the shape of a Justicar’s symbol approached Kormick, penetrating the ring of empty space that had formed around him.
“I am Intransigent the Just di Vitanni”, said the woman.
“Aah, Kettenek’s justice be upon you, brother*,” said Kormick, his mouth still half full of canapé.
“And upon you,” she nodded. “And how are you known?”
Kormick took a slug of punch. “They call me Kormick the Compromiser.”
“Kormick the Com. . .” Intransigent looked lost. “I am afraid I do not understand.”
“Aah, there is much not to understand, my friend,” said Kormick. “You see, I am here on a brief visit from Dar Und. Justice is new to Dar Und, and we are still only learning the ways of Kettenek. Our justice is as a flower, growing from rock.”
Intransigent squinted. “A what? Doing what?”
“You know the way a seed can find its way into a seemingly barren crag of rock and sprout forth with life? It takes advantage of the tiny crevices where the rock doesn’t hold together well and flourishes there. Such is the growth of Justice in Dar Und. Sometimes the pressure of the expanding roots can even split the rock asunder.”
Intransigent gaped at Kormick. “Church dogma,” she said, “holds that Justice is a rock.”
Kormick shrugged. “Kormick the Compromiser, you see?”
Intransigent tipped her head. “I do not wonder why brothers Rigid the Just and Feldspar the Just wished to leave their posts in Dar Und.”
“Yes, Rigid and Feldspar. Good men, good men,” Kormick replied. “But they really don’t understand Dar Und . . . ”
###
Tavi jumped slightly as a hand draped over his neck and shoulders and voice like velvet appeared near his ear. “Hi, Tavi.”
Rose was only a few feet away, chatting amiably with a group of their peers from the other noble houses.
The hand on Tavi’s shoulder belonged to Dianora di Infusino, Savina’s older sister. The arm attached to it belonged to her, too, as did the truly impressive amount of décolletage she was displaying.
She swung around to face him, leaving one hand by his ear. “It’s good to see you. You know, we haven’t seen nearly enough of each other lately.” She tossed her hair gently. “Really. I mean, you and I, Pol Henna’s two most eligible singles, and we haven’t even had so much as a picnic.”
Tavi forced his eyes up to her face. “That’s true . . . ” he managed, as non-committally as he could.
“What do you say, after this lovely affair quiets down, we find a nice place to visit?” She suggested. “After all,” she added “one does not buy fruit at market without sampling it first; it wouldn’t make sense to take a different approach to marriage, would it?”
Tavi swallowed surreptitiously. “I . . . can’t say I had ever thought about it in quite that way.”
She smiled at him and sashayed away with a sidelong nod, trailing one hand along Tavi’s left arm.
Phoebe plunked herself down on Tavi’s wrist. Bored now.
###
As Twiggy paused to clean her glasses, a small brown mouse poked its nose up from its hiding place in her bosom. It is very loud in here, it thought at her.
Yes, Acorn, it is. Best stay down where it’s quieter.
Acorn poked up again, briefly. And who is going to clean up all of this mess? Look! There is mud over there, and empty cups there, and crumbs everywhere. Don’t these people realize we have to live here?
The servants will have a late night tonight. And we will, too. You should be sure to rest up.
All right, Chelesta, he said, using Twiggy’s given name. But I don’t know how anyone could be expected to rest with all this noise . . .
Their internal dialog was interrupted by the approach of an imposing man, whom Twiggy recognized as Rose’s uncle (Giovanna’s brother), Marco di Vittani.
He sneered. “You. Halfbreed.”
“Signor di Vittani,” Twiggy replied, “are you speaking to me?”
“Who else would I be speaking to? Your rat?”
I’m not a rat!
I know, Acorn—
Chelesta, tell him I am not a rat.
Not now, Acorn—
Marco stepped in closer to Twiggy, close enough for her to smell the wine on his breath. “I know your secret,” he whispered to her.
Twiggy’s stomach clenched. But rather than let it show, she put on an airy smile and breezily said, “Oh, do you?”
Marco was taken aback. Whatever reaction he’d been expecting, that wasn’t it. “Wh . . . yes. And I wouldn’t be so cavalier about it if I were you.”
Twiggy tipped her head. “Signor di Vittani, I’m quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I can’t imagine what you could want from me.”
“What I want?” Marco humphed. “It’s more like what you want, if you want your precious di Raprezzi family to stay in power.” He paused. “I’m not stupid, you know.”
In point of fact, Marco di Vittani was infamously stupid; Twiggy, fortunately, knew better than to bring that up. “I would never dream of suggesting that you were.”
“Well,” Marco insisted, “you’d better watch yourself. Because I can hurt you any time I want.” He stepped even closer to Twiggy, sneering down at her. “Funny. I didn’t think your father had the stomach to give it to a pointy-ear. But then, I guess he can stomach giving it to my sister . . . ” He turned on his heel and stalked off.
Twiggy stared after him as he left.
Chelesta, I think he thinks that Dante is your father, Acorn said.
I think so too, Acorn.
But that’s not your secret. It isn’t even true.
Twiggy smiled. I know, Acorn. I know . . .
###
Not one to break his word, Tavi crossed the floor to find Bianca for her promised dance, but his aunt, Mariela di Raprezzi (Dante’s sister) stopped him, not too far from where Rose stood talking to Twiggy.
“Tavi! If you have a moment, I want to chat with you.”
Tavi stopped. Oh, come ON! It’s almost like so much keeps happening, we’re never gonna get to DO anything.
“Tavi,” Mariela continued, putting her arm around him, “I’d like you to consider marrying my daughter Mercedes . . .”
Oh, gods no . . . Tavi thought.
“I’m sure you can see why it would be a good match. It would put an end to all the pressure on you to find a bride, it will surely be good for you children’s arcane powers, and – I have to be honest – I really would like to see Mercedes gain some more status in the family. And we already know that . . .”
Acorn had been eavesdropping. He looked up at Twiggy, whiskers twitching. Did you hear that? She wants him to marry . . .
So had Twiggy. Yes, Acorn. Although it should not be so much of a surprise. The family has a long tradition of marrying inside, to maintain arcane strength, and secrecy. It’s only recently that . . . ooh, listen.
Tavi replied. “You know as well as anyone that any decisions about my marrying will be made by your mother.”
“I do.” Mariela patted him on the shoulder. “But a gentle suggestion from you wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Um . . .” Tavi began to excuse himself, just in time to see Bianca walk out the door. The party was beginning to wind down.
Darn it! Now we’re never even going to get a chance to dance, Phoebe thought.
Tavi smiled to himself. Don’t worry, Pheebs. That just means that the real excitement is about to get started…”
* “Brother” is, of course, the correct form of address for any Justicar, male or female. Members of any sects devoted to the male gods (Kettenek and Ehkt) are addressed by male pronouns, regardless of actual gender, just as members of any sect devoted to the female gods (Alirria and Sedellus) are addressed by female pronouns.
Savina and Arden sat huddled just outside the wall of the di Raprezzi estate, a long rope coiled by Arden’s feet. It was going to be a long, silent wait.
Inside, Mena arrived in the drawing room to find Kormick waiting, leaning against a bookcase and flipping through his leather notepad. Tavi, Rose, and Twiggy followed shortly thereafter, having traded ball gowns and boutonnieres for boots and bedrolls.
The group looked at Rose, waiting for a cue. She opened her palms in invitation. “I am in your hands.”
Well, Twiggy thought, I guess she really means it about us making all the decisions.
“Ho-kay, then, we begin.” Kormick flipped his pad closed with a snap. “Step one: sneak out of house without alerting Dona Giovanna, Signora Rose’s wary and extraordinarily skilled mother. Step two: travel through bustling town without being identified. Step three: break into magically-alarmed teleport center. Step four: teleport to Sovereignty before guards seize and imprison us all. Couldn’t be easier. What are we waiting for?”
Phoebe flew eager circles around Tavi's head. Acorn scrunched himself further into Twiggy's pocket. Did he say imprison us all? I don't want to go go to prison! Prison is for bad people! There are probably rats in pri--
Don't worry, Acorn, we'll be fine, Twiggy thought, almost convincing herself.
Tavi opened the door a crack and peeked out. “We’re clear.” He waved for the others to follow. But it only took two steps out into the hall to know it would not be that easy. A faint scuffling sound came from down the hall. Then Tavi saw all he needed to: the flick of a fuzzy tail and the glint of a tiny eye.
Euro.
What Euro knew, Dona Giovanna knew. And as far as Dona Giovanna was concerned, Rose was to be tucked up safe in her bed, and not at all sneaking out of the house. And not even a little bit headed to the Sovereignty on a crazy escapade. Tavi and Twiggy were supposed to keep Rose home and safe, and Euro knew that. So if they wanted to get out of that house, they were going to have to steer clear of Euro. Tavi stepped back into the drawing room and pulled the door shut. “We have a complication. A small, brown, fuzzy complication.”
Twiggy looked at Rose, and then at Tavi. No one else was going to speak up; she might as well. “We still need to get out of here. We just need a better way out.“ She paused. What, exactly, is the best way to tell your Mistress and her brother and their tutor that you know something better than they do? “I think it is fair to say that there is no one in the world who knows this house better than I do,” she said. “So . . . follow me.”
Twiggy leaned on the bookshelf behind her, which pivoted with a soft swish. A guest room stood on the other side. “This way,” she motioned. The group tiptoed behind.
From there, a connecting door led to a servant’s room. Twiggy peeked in. Unoccupied. Next, they could take the servants’ stairs down to . . . no. Mama Rossi would still be up and about in the kitchen, and so would the scullery maids, ready to raise the alarm. They were going to have to stick to the upstairs.
When I was six, Twiggy thought, exploring the ins and outs of the house was the biggest adventure there was. Now, it’s the only thing standing between me and a bigger adventure than I can even imagine. And the only thing standing between Rose and her future. She motioned for the others to wait, and dashed out into the hallway, sliding into a broom closet. “Clear!” She whispered, pointing down the hallway and up the side stair.
The group rushed down the hall and up the stairs, aware of every clink and shuffle from their packs. Someone was bound to hear them.
Sure enough, as Mena reached the top of the stairs, she spotted Euro, around the corner to the right, at the far end of the hall. “We’ve got company,” she whispered, her back flat against the wall.
The grandfather clock at the other end of the hall chimed one. It didn’t usually sound so ominous.
Euro was faster than they were. It was going to be a mad dash.
Marcus gave Tavi a serious look. “Sir . . . I believe can distract the weasel,” he whispered. “I’ll divert its attention. You go on ahead.”
Tavi shook his head. “You are the captain of the guard, and a strong fighter. We may need that for whatever we face out there.”
“You won’t face anything at all, if you don’t make it out,” Marcus whispered in reply. “If anyone asks, I can say I tried to stop you. I can even give misleading information about where I think you went.”
Twiggy knew the sacrifice Marcus was making. It might mean the end of his career. She knew Tavi knew it, too, and that they had no choice. Tavi clapped his captain on the shoulder in silent assent. “You’re a good man, Marcus.”
Marcus ran up the stairs and turned right, out of sight. Euro followed.
When reached the top of the stairs, she turned left and kept on running. The rest of the group followed Twiggy, straight toward the end of the hall, straight toward the clock, straight toward a dead end . . . and Twiggy touched the side of the clock and it slid to the side, revealing a narrow passage. They piled in. When Twiggy shut the passage door, she could hear Euro’s claws scratching toward the clock. Marcus had given them just the seconds they’d needed. That was close, she thought, gulping for breath.
“Keep moving,” Mena whispered insistently, pulling Twiggy from her reverie. “We don’t have much of a head start.”
The passage was dark, but light might have betrayed them. They felt their way down a steep set of stairs, to a narrow passage, cold and damp. After a while, the ground sloped up, up . . . and emerged under a shallow shelter near the wall of the di Raprezzi estate, not far from Savina and Arden.
Kormick gave a low whistle, and Arden appeared at the top of the wall, rope in hand.
Wow, Twiggy thought, how can she climb that fast? Impressive.
One by one, the party scrambled over the wall. Kormick stood atop it, pulling each member up the rope, until only Twiggy was left on the ground. Kormick offered Twiggy a boost. “Young lady?”
Twiggy looked at Kormick for a moment, and tilted her head. Ready, Acorn?
Ready for what? No! Not ready! Wha--?
Twiggy disappeared, instantly reappearing on the other side of the wall with a giant grin on her face.
Kormick clambered down the wall, muttering and scribbling in his book. “Thing number one hundred and ninety seven that you must warn your guide about ahead of time. The servant girl is a sorcerer. Humph.”
###
All was dark and quiet as the group stepped from the bushes on to a tree-lined boulevard. They walked in silence for a long while, taking advantage of the nighttime quiet in Pol Henna’s tree-lined wealthy areas. But eventually, the parks became smaller, the streets narrower, and the sidewalks more populated. Ahead were the crowded and cramped back streets of one of the seedier parts of town.
Tavi pulled the group aside. “Around this corner, there will be people. We cannot be noticed or recognized; our mother may already have sent people after us, and will certainly send more in the morning to look for our trail.” He tugged Rose’s hood further over her head, protectively, and put his arm around her shoulder. “Rose and Twiggy, you’re with me. You three,” he said, motioning to Mena, Kormick, and Savina, “will just be three clerics passing in the night.”
Arden looked up, silent. Kormick looked at Tavi and gestured to Arden with his thumb. “Take that one, too.” Arden stepped over toward Tavi.
The next street didn’t exactly bustle, but Tavi’s warning was well-taken. Torches burned, casting a dim glow across the cobblestones, and commerce still glowed in the windows of several taverns. The alleys shuffled with soft, unknown noises. A handful of people passed, appearing more interested in avoiding notice than in noticing four fellow-carousers or three quiet clerics.
Light burst on to the narrow street as a tavern door opened just in front of Tavi, and a man stumbled out. Several others piled after him, shouting incomprehensibly but with great emotion. The man tripped, unsteady. Tavi stepped to the side, avoiding his fall by inches.
The man rose to his feet and turned away, focused more on his pursuers than on Tavi. “You can’t kick me out!” He slurred, swinging wildly at his pursuers. “I happen to know the Doge’s brother!”
Twiggy stiffened. The Doge was Dona Giovanna’s brother; this man claimed to know someone in her family. Was he talking about that nasty man Marco? Was he bluffing?
From the other side of the street, Savina peeked at the activity. Tavi! she thought, first concerned and then impressed by his agility as he side-stepped the scuffle. Behind Tavi, a fist fight broke out. Punches flew, until the inebriated tavern-goer lay on the ground, moaning. The stranger was bruised, and his brow bled. Savina, on instinct, turned to walk toward him.
Kormick touched her on the shoulder. “Where exactly do you think you are going?”
“That man is hurt,” Savina pointed out, “and I am going to heal him.”
“No, Blessed Daughter, you are not going to help the very drunk very stupid man, and you are not going to get us all discovered and followed and dragged back in chains. You are going to keep walking.”
“But . . .”
Mena and Kormick shared a glance, and each put a strong arm around Savina, forcing her toward the end of the street.
All six of them turned the corner on to another street, lined with businesses shuttered for the night. There, two blocks down, stood the teleport center.
###
As Tavi pushed open the door of the teleport center, an alarm screamed. Who needs guards or locks, when there are magical alarms? Twiggy thought.
“They’ll be here soon, so we don’t have much time,” Tavi began, calm and confident, “but we have a lot to do.” For once, Phoebe hovered almost still, just over Tavi’s shoulder. “Do whatever you can to keep the guards out.”
Kormick pulled a bench over to the front door, jamming it up to the doorframe. Mena pushed a table against the door in the back and broke the handle off the back door. Arden pushed stones into the latches of windows and doors.
Wordlessly, Tavi and Twiggy pulled materials from their packs—ritual components for the teleport circle. “Rose!” Tavi called, “we need six finch feathers!”
“And six cornflowers,” Twiggy said, softly, to Savina.
Tavi began setting items in a careful circle. Candles. Herbs. Bits of wool. Stones. Twiggy followed him, lighting candles. Did he mean to put the thyme next to the shale? She moved the shale. They really needed those flowers and feathers.
There were voices outside, down the street. “This way! I see light inside!”
Rose and Savina scrambled through the drawers of the apothecary cabinet. This one had dried lizards. That one had ribbons. The floor was strewn with drawers and bits of plant and fuzz when they spotted their quarries: finch feathers. Cornflowers. They ran to the circle, and Tavi and Twiggy gingerly fit the items in their respective spots.
The doors shook as guards banged on them from outside. “We have set the circle to appear as if we are going to Pol Thane,” said Tavi, “but that means making a longer incantation. Everyone, get in the circle.”
Each of them ran in. Tavi began to chant. Thumps and clangs came from outside. A window broke. Tavi continued to chant.
Twiggy thought. Soon, Acorn, we’ll be as far from home as we can be. All the way across the Halmae.
Acorn’s whiskers twitched. Well, I hope the people there will be well civilized. Did you see those men at the tavern? They were positively violent—
Ooo! Ooo! I know! I know! I want my fabulous bonus points!
I think that'd be cheating.
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Currently editing the 4e War of the Burning Sky adventure path. Support EN Publishing, get excellent modules!
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