A Rose In The Wind: A Saga of the Halmae -- Updated June 19, 2014

[ellinor]

24x02

Twiggy took notes as the group made a list of tasks.

- Tavi would write a letter to Diego to confirm the source of the bounty and to let their mother know that, despite its admonition against killing, the bounty was a serious danger to life and limb for Tavi and Rose, and was tantamount to a death warrant for the Questors who undertook it. With luck, Dona Giovanna would call off the hunt. Tavi was not optimistic, but all agreed it was their best hope for safety.

- They would meet with the Questors, and post a notice anywhere the bounty was posted, warning all against attempting it. This would be more effective than merely taking down the bounty notices, which could be replaced.

- Finally, based on Tavek's information, they would investigate and, if all went well, track down, their remaining attackers.

To save time, the group split up for the various tasks, and agreed to check in at various times during the day. Tavi sat down to write the letter to his family. Everyone else set out to post notices warning people off the bounty, with the aim of investigating their attackers along the way.

“Let’s see if we can get everything wrapped up before we have to go find that man Ellisen at sundown,” Mena issued a challenge to the group. “We don’t want Rose in danger any longer than she has to be.”

I suppose that means a nap is out of the question. It feels like we haven’t haven’t slept for . . . Acorn paused to do math in his head, and his little eyes fluttered closed . . . forever.

It has been a long time, Twiggy comforted the mouse. Feel free to sleep in my pocket while we post signs around town.

###

Kormick took the notice from Mena as she returned from the back room of the Questor’s chapter house. “As we suspected,” she said, “Brother Soburu was only too happy to help. Said the Questors’ goal was to meet challenges, not draw unneeded attention. He even signed the notice.”

“Your mother did at least one thing right,” Kormick said to Rose, who had been waiting beside him. “She chose Mena as your teacher. Well-persuaded, Dame Mena.” Kormick tacked the notice to the wall near the door, and looked around. Too many of the patrons were staring into their beverages, and too few were staring at the Inquisitors posing the notice. “You, sir,” Kormick announced, “Yes, you. The young man in the orange. Over here.”

The young man in orange stood, looked around doubtfully, and walked over to Kormick.

Kormick put his arm around the young man and pointed at the notice. “Would you please read that in your loudest voice?”

“Attention,” the man croaked.

“Louder,” said Kormick. “Start again.” All eyes were on them, now.

“Attention,” the young man said, with more volume, if not confidence. “The bounty on the girl pictured below—”

Kormick motioned toward Rose beside him, as if she were a work of art on display. Rose bent her knees in an ironic curtsey.

“—calls for an illegal attack on an Inquisitor of Cauldron. This bounty is strictly prohibited and must not be pursued. Any and all persons pursuing this bounty will be prosecuted to the fullest extent by the Inquisition.”

“Whose names are those on the bottom?” Kormick asked, rhetorically.

“Lord Ono, head of the Inquisition, and Brother Soburu, head of the Ehktians.”

It looked as if everyone got the message.

###

So it turns out that “walking out the main gate of the city” is precisely as bad an escape plan as it sounds, thought Tavi, as he followed a runner back to the House of the Inquisition at about noon. Apparently, the gate guards had apprehended the man with the glasses early that morning, and it had taken the runner some time to find one of the party to come and question him.

“He confessed,” explained a gate guard, who met Tavi and the runner in the vestibule of the Inquisition, “as soon as we stopped him.”

The gate guard was holding the chain of a set of manacles. Wearing the manacles was . . . not the man with the glasses. It was a Sovereign man of about 30, wearing the uniform of a gate guard.

“So . . . you stopped this man from escaping Cauldron,” Tavi asked the first guard.

“Yes,” replied the manacled one. “I was trying to leave the city. You see, I had attacked a group of Inquisitors for money.”

Tavi showed them a drawing of the man in glasses, which Nyoko had created for “wanted” posters. “Is this the man you arrested?”

“That’s me,” said the young guard in manacles.

The spell would wear off eventually . . . but the man in glasses was, Tavi knew, long gone. He had, just as he’d said he would, walked right out the front gates of the city, and was deep in the Ketkath by now.

###

By the time Twiggy felt Acorn stir in her pocket, it was midafternoon, and the group had reconvened to investigate the blonde attacker’s quarters at the Inn of Opulent Luxury.

Hey, this place is much nicer than where we’re staying, said Acorn, as he wriggled his head out of Twiggy’s pocket.

And much more expensive, too. Anyway, our place is just fine.

A porter showed them down a richly paneled hallway to Odelette’s room, which was large and sparely decorated with exquisite details. A very plush bed stood in the middle of the room, and a gorgeous flower arrangement sat on a table beside it. Odelette had, clearly, left the building. Although she hadn’t told the proprietors that she was leaving, her belongings were gone, with the exception of a few bits and bobs of wool and stone—spell components, Twiggy assumed—on the table near the bed. On a divan in the corner lay the thick silk robe that had been provided by the Inn. Twiggy picked up the robe—as much to feel its softness, as anything else—and noticed that it smelled lovely.

Lovely is an understatement, Chelesta. Ask about that heavenly aroma. Ask![/i]

Twiggy held the robe out for Nyoko to smell. Nyoko sniffed, thought, and sniffed again. “I know the scent,” Nyoko said at last. “It is a massage oil, mixed by the Adepts, and used for elite clients.”

Acorn, is there any way you could follow that scent?

I’d follow that scent anywhere, Chelesta, Acorn replied, and directed Twiggy toward the room’s edge, and then out to a veranda. I’d follow it anywhere . . . but it doesn’t go anywhere. She must have teleported from here.

“It’s not quite a dead end,” Nyoko observed. “Now we know we can ask about her at the Adept House.”

###

“Let me check,” said the young Adept behind the desk. Behind him was a rice-paper screen, and behind that was the Adept House spa. The Adept ran his finger down the page in front of him. “Odelette, you say? She’s scheduled for a massage at . . .”

The rice-paper screen slid open, and a blonde woman—Odelette—walked out, oblivious to the group’s presence. She was wearing a towel. Only a towel. “I’m ready for my…” she said, trailing off as she looked up and noticed the others.

For a moment, it was hard to say who was more surprised.

Then Odelette turned around and BOLTED.

“Get her!” Mena yelled. Nyoko took off, Arden leapt after her, and the rest of the party followed, crashing past the clerk at the desk and into the massage rooms.

###

Left behind, Mawu opened her leather case and spread it out on the desk of the spa. She took out one of the small needles and examined it closely. “They are my friends,” she said to the young man behind the desk, indicating the instruments in her case. “I call this one my ‘gentle inquiry.’” She put it back gently and picked up a pair of silver pliers. She could hear the chase, beyond the hallway of the spa, moving into a different part of the Adept house. As the sound traveled farther and farther away, Mawu could hear a woman’s scream, and a smashing noise.

“You’re . . . not going to chase the light-haired woman?” asked the man. His voice was shaky.

Their voices are so often shaky, Mawu thought. “No, I am of more use here, preparing,” she said, “preparing, here with my friends.” She polished the pliers gently.

 

[ellinor]

24x03

Yamashiro Tamahashi was about to have the dinner of his life. He had been saving for months to dine at The Dining Room. All of the best fine dining establishments in Cauldron had chefs trained by the Adepts. At The Dining Room, the chefs were the people who trained those chefs. The Dining Room was located on the Adept House grounds, and was the only eatery in the entire city of Cauldron featuring exclusively Adept chefs and waitstaff. It was so universally recognized as the most amazing dining experience in Cauldron, it did not even bother with a name extolling its virtues. The Eatery of Exquisite Culinary Delights? Practically street vendors compared to The Dining Room. The Establishment of Great Dining Pleasures? May as well serve sand. The Dining Room had the best ingredients, the most original recipes . . .

Yamashiro Tamahashi took his place at a long, low table of diners in the quiet room. Behind him, an Adept with a towel over one arm leaned in and placed a bowl of cold, aromatic soup in front of him, in unison with the other waitstaff, in a delicate choreography of dinner service. “Welcome, Tamahashi-san,” she said. Her voice was kind. Yamashiro Tamahashi took a sip of the soup. It was amazing—fresh, spicy, with a subtle sweetness.

In the distance, Yamashiro Tamahashi thought he heard a noise. As if someone were yelling something. ”Look out for the kiln!” “My urn!” That couldn’t be right. Must be Adept combat practice, he thought, and took another sip of the soup. It was exquisite.

Yamashiro Tamahashi took a deep breath, savoring the aroma of the soup once more.

CRASH! A woman burst through the rice paper screen at one end of the room. She was completely naked, holding a towel in one hand. She left mud and blood on the screen—she seemed covered in clay, and was bleeding down her leg, from the dagger embedded in her thigh . . . I can be forgiven for noticing her nakedness before the dagger, thought Yamashiro Tamahashi . . .

The woman crashed past a table and ran, dodging pillows and chairs, running past the long table in the middle of the room, knocking down one of the waiters and crashing through the rice-paper wall at the other end of the room and out into the courtyard, leaving a massive hole in the wall . . . a plate of food clattered to the ground . . . a plate of delicious food . . .

An Adept ran in, then, chasing the blonde. She was a tiny woman with long, jet-black hair. She leapt onto the large table, cartwheeling and flipping. She dismounted in one graceful movement and dashed through the hole in the wall. Not a single plate was disturbed.

Whew, thought Yamashiro Tamahashi, and leaned forward again, reaching for the morsel of marinated mushroom the waitress had placed before him. That was crazy.

But it was not the end. A red-haired heathen woman, also sopping with clay, followed at top speed, brandishing a dagger. The heathen, too, jumped atop the table, but her foot landed on a brazier near the corner of the table and she nearly fell. “Gods-damned aristocrats!” she muttered in a disagreeably outlandish accent. She charged down the middle of the table with alarming speed, plowing through glasses and plates as she continued the tirade under her breath (“. . . spoiled rich . . . waste of time . . . EHKTIANS . . . !”). Yamashiro Tamahashi didn’t bother to make sense of her jabber. He was too sad. My mushroom! That . . . he stared down at the gastronomic carnage on the floor. That was my mushroom . . .

“Stop! In the name of the Inquisition!” It hardly surprised Yamashiro Tamahashi, then, when several Inquisitors appeared, following the chase, although it surprised him that they were heathens—three women, one focusing on an orb and another brandishing a half-formed piece of wet pottery, and the third yelling “Run! Catch her!” A Sovereign Inquisitor followed just behind, with two more heathens—a sturdy light-haired man with a hand-crossbow and a tall dark-haired one with a sword. “Duck!” yelled the one with the crossbow, and fired; the arrow flew over the table, narrowly missing Yamashiro Tamahashi, and out into the courtyard, where the naked woman had tripped over a topiary. The arrow flew just past her arm and pinned her towel to a bench. She struggled to get up and continue running . . .

They all clattered out to the courtyard, leaving behind them more hole than wall. Yamashiro Tamahashi could not help but follow them with his stare. He stood up and walked to the torn wall to get a better look at what was going on in the courtyard . . . the naked blonde appeared to be getting away . . .

And suddenly, the Sovereign Inquisitor at the back of the group became HUGE, as tall as the building. He stepped across the courtyard in one stride, and blocked the woman’s escape with his foot. As the naked woman paused, preparing to vault his foot, the red-haired one pounced, tackling her to the ground. “Eat clay,” the redhead advised her prisoner, and shoved a handful of would-be pottery into the blonde’s face.

“You’re under arrest,” added the enormous Inquisitor.

The Inquisitor with the crossbow stood back, picked a kumquat from one of the trees, and ate it. He spotted Yamashiro Tamahashi. “Want one?” he asked, and threw a kumquat toward the dining room. “My . . . mushroom . . .” was all Yamashiro Tamahashi could say.

“We apologize profusely for the disruption, Tamahashi-san,” said one of the waiters. “We will have this cleared up shortly.”

###

Mena dragged Odelette, still naked, back to the entrance of the spa, being careful not to avoid the spiny topiaries along the way. “You’ve put us through enough trouble,” Mena said. “You have one chance to make our lives easier, and this is it.” Mena pushed the naked woman down onto the chair in the waiting room, and threw her towel at her. “Cover yourself up.”

Mawu stepped forward, then, a small pair of silver pliers in her hand. She stopped a few inches from Odelette. “My . . . friend and I have some questions.”

Odelette’s eyes got wide.

“Tell us your plan.”

“I . . . we . . . it was the man with the glasses. He found us at the Questor Chapter House. We were going to capture the girl and meet up at this spot in the middle of the Ketkath, called the “silent waterfall.” It’s a couple days’ hike from Cauldron. The man had some way of getting us from there to Pol Henna. We’d collect the bounty and never see each other again.”

“What did you know about the people you were attacking?” Mawu asked, her voice hard and cold.

“We only knew about the girl, and that one,” Odelette said, pointing at Tavi, “and that we weren’t supposed to kill him or the girl. But we watched them all for some time. We knew they’d try to protect the girl.”

“And you knew they were Inquisitors.”

“Well, now that you say it, I suppose we did. But . . .”

Mawu moved quickly and steadily, and with unexpected strength. She grasped Odelette’s hand, spun her around to the ground, and held her there, with her knee between Odelette’s shoulder blades. She produced a thin silver cord from her robe and used it to tie Odelette’s thumbs together behind her back.

She picked Odelette up from the ground, and handed her off to Yudai. “You have been very helpful,” she said, without inflection.

###

As sundown approached, all that was left was to apprehend Ellisen, who—if Tavek had been telling the truth—would be waiting for Tavek in the tunnels at the edge of the city. Tavek had given up his lover’s whereabouts only under torture. Savina disapproved. She had seen enough fear for one day. This man had been defeated and was leaving the city, and would never see his lover again. His lover had been tortured. Must this man also be tortured with the knowledge that his lover had betrayed him?

They followed Tavek’s directions. Behind a dwarven tavern near the wall was a small trapdoor. They climbed inside, and Savina cracked a Sunrod to light. They could see a cavern, large and irregular. Pillars cast shadows and supported high roof beams, presumably put there to prevent the cavern from collapsing. It was too dark to see much, but they could see footprints in the dust. The footprints led to a pillar and stopped. Ellisen was nowhere to be seen.

As the echoes of their footfalls died, all was quiet. Did Tavek manage to lead us astray? Has Ellisen escaped already? More and more, Savina was hoping that he had.

Yudai called out. “Ellisen, it is the Inquisition. If you come out, it will be better for you.”

Silence.

“We have Tavek,” said Twiggy.

Savina heard something near the far side of the cavern. It was Ellisen, she thought, slipping past them, out of the city. Perhaps he will be safe, after all. She let the Sunrod slip through her fingers to the ground—on purpose. The pool of light died.

Twiggy cast light and they could see again. There was another faint shuffling sound, and Savina turned her head toward the far side of the cavern. No one else did—she hoped they hadn’t heard. But Mena followed her gaze, snapped a piercing look at Savina, and then sped off into the darkness. At that, there was the twang of an arrow from Nyoko, and a muffled gulp. Nyoko, too, ran into the darkness. Kormick and Arden climbed into the rafters. There were sounds of struggle.

Twiggy moved forward, and her pool of light showed Ellisen, dressed all in black, bleeding from Mena’s sword but holding Nyoko by the neck, using her as a shield.

Silence again, for a moment. Then Kormick dove down from the rafters onto them and pounded Ellisen with his warhammers. Tavi winked out of view. When he appeared again, he had taken Nyoko’s place in Ellisen’s grip. Tavi stabbed backward, straight into Ellisen’s gut. Ellisen cried out from the tangled mass of people. Yudai teleported behind them and sliced his katana at Ellisen’s ankles, immobilizing him. Tavi burst into flame, and Ellisen screamed. The fight was over almost before it had started. A victory, surely, but Savina could not be happy.

###

Within 24 hours of the attack on Rose, the Inquisition issued a guilty verdict against Tavek, Ellisen, and Odelette for conspiracy and attack on the Inquisition. They were executed quietly, without fanfare and—to avoid drawing any attention to the Questors that might generate anti-Ehktian sentiment or otherwise fuel the Tide—without mention of their religious affiliation.

For the mysterious man with the glasses, justice would have to wait.

Kormick knew better than to think it was over. Trying to put an end a bounty is like trying to put the milk back into the cow. Won’t happen.

But this round was over, and the day—the day that had started two days before, before the wrestling and the gambling and the meeting with the crime boss and the dancing and the party and the fighting and the running around town—was ending.

“So, Nyoko, what do you say?” he asked. “Drinking first, or sleeping?”

“We haven’t eaten since last night, Justicar,” replied Nyoko, “except for that kumquat. So eat first. Then drink.” She smiled. “Then sleep.”

 

[Falkus]

Within 24 hours of the attack on Rose, the Inquisition issued a guilty verdict against Tavek, Ellisen, and Odelette for conspiracy and attack on the Inquisition. They were executed quietly, without fanfare and—to avoid drawing any attention to the Questors that might generate anti-Ehktian sentiment or otherwise fuel the Tide—without mention of their religious affiliation.

Aww; that's kind of depressing. Not unexpected though, I guess. I'm something of a softy when it comes to prisoners when I play and run games.

 

[ellinor]

You have a good point, Falkus -- but in a way, it's the best outcome we could hope for, since it's really the only outcome that didn't risk further inflaming the Tide or giving the Tide further ammunition to inflame the population against the Affirmation. Plus, this was among the more "honorable" deaths offered by the Inquisition, which is not known for its mercy (!) and would ordinarily exact a far more public and prolonged death sentence on those who attacked the Inquisition.

We can console ourselves, a bit, with the knowledge that as Questors, they constantly lived on the edge of life-threatening risk on purpose, and in this case, they knew that death would be the price if they were caught (or if they were defeated in a fight).

And there's still the man with the Glasses, who survived unpunished. At the close of the session, Fajitas said "you know, before now I haven't had a lot of of chances to include a recurring villain..." and then let that hang in the air in a cloud of foreboding. ::shiver::

 

[Ilex]

Aww; that's kind of depressing. Not unexpected though, I guess. I'm something of a softy when it comes to prisoners when I play and run games.

Me too! We were as merciful as possible to the derro prisoners, and obtained leniency for Mariela's men, and even offered Kawazu his life (for what it's worth to him these days in that dungeon). As a player, it was thus a bit shocking that we just let the Sovereigns kill these guys without our usual extensive moral qualms. (Plus, if this were real life, obviously I would be horrified, but that's true of soooooooo many things in almost any game.... ) That said, because they were convicted of freely choosing to attack us ... we hadn't provoked them and no one else coerced them ... it's safe to say that Arden, unlike me, felt okay about concluding that they asked for it. Also comforting is the fact that--being Questors--they died serving their god: their names will presumably be celebrated in the halls of Ehkt for facing such a challenge.

Doesn't mean that I, Ilex, didn't cringe when I was reminded of their fate by reading ellinor's update, though...!

 

[Falkus]

I can understand the rationale and reasons; but I guess I mostly feel sorry for them because they seemed more misguided than murderous. Except for Glasses. He seems like kind of a jerk. Oh well, I'm sure he's learned his lesson and is long gone; never to trouble our heroes again- ah, I can't even finish that sentence with a straight face.

And there's still the man with the Glasses, who survived unpunished. At the close of the session, Fajitas said "you know, before now I haven't had a lot of of chances to include a recurring villain..." and then let that hang in the air in a cloud of foreboding. ::shiver::

As a fellow DM, I know the feeling. Only a handful of my NPCs who plague my players manage to get away to torment them another day if they engage them in combat. They had something against people running away, and went to great lengths, even to the point of taking powers solely for that purpose, to stop them from escaping.

 

[Ilex]

25x01

Writer's note: it's been two weeks, so here's two weeks' worth of update in one! (i.e. it's longer than usual). ​

WEEK 8 | MONDAY

On her way to breakfast in the Inn's common room, Savina paused at the building's door to enjoy the breeze. The weekend had been exhausting. It will be good to return to our normal routine, she thought, and then had to laugh to herself for being glad to get back to "normal" life … that is, life as a Sovereign Inquisitor engaged in the complicated and top-secret political maneuver of going the long way around the Circle. Not long ago, she would barely have known what any of that meant.

And the sulfur in the breeze would have bothered her terribly.

Suddenly, she missed Pol Henna and her original normal life. The thought struck her: Why shouldn't I teleport home for a weekend? She had almost forgotten that it was possible. She could visit the Temple and spend some time with her parents. Odetta would probably be off negotiating trade agreements, but she could see how her brother Cassio’s studies were coming and if Dianora was still flirting through every ball. What would her family think of who she was becoming? Would they understand her need to continue this quest?

Mulling over the idea, she walked into the dining area. Kormick was slumped at the bar and pouring powder into a steaming mug.

Curious, Savina paused to watch as he took a sniff of the mixture. Something tugged at her attention. The other night, in the midst of the confusion of the fight with the bounty hunters, she had felt… something. Yes—it was when he'd attacked the glasses-wearing man on her behalf. Barely noticed in all the excitement, she had felt some trace of the Goddess about Kormick. But… no. I can't be right.

She closed her eyes, and then opened them and looked again. Something shimmered. How can that be?

After another evaluative sniff, Kormick threw his head back and swallowed the contents of the mug at a gulp. Then he turned around with immense weariness and saw her.

"I am… excruciatingly hungover," he announced.

"What did you just mix up for that drink?" Savina asked.

"Who knows? Stuff. And… things. It helps the head."

The drink was a folk remedy, nothing divine. That wasn't the power she had sensed—the power she could still faintly sense. Savina stepped closer, trying to see the answer in his bloodshot eyes. "Has Alirria blessed you, Jan?" she wondered aloud.

Kormick snorted as if she'd made an unexpected joke. "Savina, I am barely a Justicar of one god. Come on. Let's go decide what we're doing next in this political farce." Giving her a benign pat on the shoulder, Kormick set off for the party's table at the back of the room.

As she followed him to the table, Savina decided that she would say nothing more about it… for now. But this would bear watching.

Over breakfast, she mentioned her plan to visit Pol Henna for a day or two. She wasn't prepared for the response. Tavi choked on his tea, Rose nearly dropped her spoon, Kormick began to laugh, and Twiggy shook her head solemnly.

"No," said Mena, glaring at her. The Defier seemed surprisingly angry.

"Dame Mena," Savina replied, a little stiffly, "I will do as I wish."

"A letter says a lot," countered Kormick. "And has less risk of you getting locked up in the di Raprezzis' mansion by the crazy lady."

"I cannot imagine that it would be unsafe," Savina persisted. "I am a Di Infusino. Would Signora Giovanna really attack me?"

"Her bounty hunters attacked you," Tavi said.

"Well…" Savina hesitated. "I suppose I could wait."

"It's your decision, but I do appreciate having you stay here with us," said Rose softly, and thus it was decided.

The conversation progressed to a review of their most urgent priorities now that Ehkt's Judgment had passed. Nyoko explained that she'd received an invitation to perform the Dance of the Seven-Fold Secrets for the Head of Lands, Lord Tanaka, at one of his indulgence parties. She hadn't been told a date or a place, but the invitation confirmed Kormick's earlier intelligence that a party was coming up. She would accept the invitation—which meant she had to learn the dance.

It was important that as many of them as possible try to obtain an invitation to the indulgence party, because that would give them greater odds of speaking privately to Lord Tanaka himself. Tavi and Twiggy decided to angle for information about the secret party, too. Savina didn't offer to help. Neither did Rose. It doesn't sound like an event for refined people, Savina thought, with a little shiver of distaste as she imagined the underground free-for-all. And where is the reverence for our Lady’s gifts? It sounds like they gorge on all her blessings without truly understanding or appreciating any of them.

Instead, Savina offered to continue seeking out the city's secret Alirrian population. Although the Affirmation officially protected their activities, their presence was still almost entirely underground—memories lingered of the massacre of their sistren not so many years ago.

"You should go along, Mena," Twiggy said. "You said you spotted a few Alirrians among the Snuffers."

"Perhaps today is not the best day," Mena said. Savina was sure now: Mena was angry about something, simmering in her chair like a teapot near to boiling. Twiggy did not—or chose not to—notice. "I think it's a good idea," she persisted.

Mena cast an unsettling look at Savina, sighed, and gave one sharp nod of assent.

Kormick declared that he'd continue building a relationship with Cauldron's organized criminals, the Eighths. Savina suspected that he had his own Undian reasons for doing so, but she couldn't deny that forming such a connection would help them gather information about the indulgence party, the Tide, and anything else that wasn't necessarily easily found in the broad daylight.

"I'll borrow the murder slave," he added, "if you don't need her for any bloodletting assistance."

Savina didn't think she would.

###

Mena led Savina to the Snuffer's Temple, where they would attempt to make contact with the Alirrian healers Mena had already noticed hiding among the Ehktians there. Savina was wearing her Alirrian robes, her holy symbol flashing in the sun. Mena's irritation with the girl was still so fresh that every flash seemed a personal annoyance, a reminder of something not resolved. Mena would have preferred to wait until she was calmer, less emotional, but perhaps now was her best chance. She took a deep breath and began.

"Let's talk about last night," she snapped. "You knew where Ellisen was hiding in the cavern, but you protected him. Why is that?"

"I… His lover fought so hard for him, but was betrayed by torture and will die. His friends are gone. I thought perhaps he had suffered enough.”

"It endangered us all."

Savina drew herself up, anger in her voice. ”I would not willingly send anyone to that woman Mawu. Did you know she believes heathens have no souls to suffer?!” She took a breath, resolute. "I do not apologize for having had my fill of death.“

"That's admirable," said Mena softly. She was relieved to see the girl look startled at this unexpected concession. It was a heartfelt concession, too, no doubt about that. Her anger now cooling, she relaxed into a more teacherly mindset and explained. "But it’s not my point. I'm angry that you didn't share your thoughts with the rest of us. I'm angry that you instead sabotaged our efforts secretly. Those people intended to capture Rose, and they directed violence against all of us. And they will not be the last. If you value Rose's life at all—if you value all our lives—you must give us advance warning the next time conscience pricks you."

Savina was silent for a few paces. Finally, she murmured, "That much is fair, Mena. And I do apologize for my misjudgment, as I had hoped he would be content to run." Mena smiled in true relief.

As they neared the Snuffer's Temple, Mena added, "Do let me be clear. I deeply understand your desire to prevent a death. But I could never wish upon you the burden of knowing that your actions cost a friend or comrade their life. There are always consequences, even for good intentions."

Savina cast her a probing look, no doubt alert to the emotion in Mena's voice. But Mena pointedly walked on toward the Temple, relying on Savina's tact to let the conversation end there. Neither of them said another word about it, but they worked comfortably together for the rest of the day.

TUESDAY

Nyoko squirmed a little inside. Now that she was actually standing in the dance studio in front of the dance master, she was surprised that it was this hard to make her request. Using her Adept training to calm her mind, however, she focused on her mission and then composed her question. "Iwai-Sensei, I wish private instruction to learn… to learn the Dance of the Seven-Fold Secrets." She felt surprised eyes upon her from the Adepts warming up in the room behind her, but she ignored them.

To her relief, Iwai-sensei was nodding. "You were a most able student for the Dance of Sedellus. I will be honored to instruct you further. Here is a list of things you will need…" From memory, he rattled off special make-up, fabrics, and other items that Nyoko would have to buy. Then he bowed, she bowed, and she headed for the door to do some shopping.

DM’s Note: For game mechanics purposes, the Dance of the Sevenfold Secrets counts as a ritual that only Nyoko can perform. The cost involved in obtaining these items represents the ritual costs.
​

On the way, she saw her rival, Unsuku, glaring at her. Glaring as if her eyes were bows and their beams were twin arrows, striking at once.

WEDNESDAY

Tavi couldn't remember the last time he'd endured such excruciating pain. His skin felt flayed; his muscles pummeled flat.

With everything he had, he stifled a groan of pure agony and sent a psychic grunt to the frantic Phoebe warning her not to poke out the eyes of his tormentor.

Looming above him, his Adept masseuse murmured, "Does that feel sufficiently effective, Signor-san?"

"Great," Tavi answered, teeth gritted. "But more, please."

He'd decided, that morning, that the best way to get invited to an indulgence party was to become better known as an indulgent man of… excessive tastes. Accordingly, he'd visited the Adept spa and asked for the full deep-tissue package. Unfortunately, Adepts were known for their finesse, decorum, and artistry, not for unseemly and illicit excess. After hours of relaxing steam room sessions and massages that artfully walked a delicate line between sensual and sexual, he'd realized that he wasn't getting anywhere—wasn't meeting the quail-egg-craving extreme-pleasure enthusiasts who might invite him to the Lands party—so he began asking for more. More extreme. More unusual. More, more, more.

The Adept climbed on top of him, planted an elbow against his back, and slowly raised the rest of her body off the floor until she was balancing her entire weight on that single elbow, nestled snugly alongside his spine.

"After this, more exfoliation," she murmured.

Tavi swallowed a scream.

THURSDAY

Twiggy, who'd initially been envious of Tavi's spa plan, had felt better once she'd seen him return home the previous night, bright pink and limping, and make a beeline straight for Savina's healing prayers.

And Twiggy’s method of getting an invitation to the indulgence party was enjoyable, too. She was wandering the local markets, visiting apothecaries and farm stands, seeking a place with the correct array of herbs for her purposes. It was fun—for once—to see a veritable catalogue of the local flora under circumstances in which she could reasonably expect that none of it would leap up and assault her. It brought back memories of her childhood, of those fleeting moments on her father’s lap as he taught her about trees and flowers, how to make them grow, which ones were poisonous and which were tasty, how to tell them by name and taste and smell . . .

Finally, she discovered an unpretentious little apothecary storefront that, within, opened up into a treasure trove of natural healing remedies and more exotic specimens. The customers browsing were quieter and better-dressed than the surrounding neighborhood warranted. Twiggy bought a small collection of herbs, making no effort to hide what she was selecting: euphoric, mildly hallucinogenic, sedating… Combined, they would have even more fascinating effects. At the counter, the shopkeeper cocked an eyebrow at her. She gave him a knowing smile in response. He bowed graciously. She bowed back.

She was on her way to becoming known as the heathens' expert drug dealer.

FRIDAY

Kormick, with Arden behind him like a slim, malevolent shadow, arrived at the bar where the Eighths congregated and saw that a place was already set for him at his usual table. He shot Arden a satisfied look and read answering satisfaction in her face.

It hadn't been like this on Monday, when they'd first arrived for lunch. Kormick had conspicuously laid aside his Inquisitorial and Kettenite accoutrements as he'd entered. The regulars and staff—almost all of them members of the gang—had glared as he'd settled into a chair and ordered. Arden had snagged a pair of wooden chopsticks to twirl and leaned against a wall with the bored-yet-alert look of a competent bodyguard.

As the waiter served his stew and a few other men lurked around in a transparent attempt to be intimidating, Kormick had glanced up after his first bite and announced pleasantly, "Gentlemen, you're in my light."

The next day, when it happened again, he commented, "If we had some conversation, it might not be so tense in here." They stayed silent.

The next day, Kormick spoke around his last mouthful: "Still so quiet, eh? I regret to inform you all: I am exceedingly fond of this particular stew."

The next day—yesterday—the waiter had attempted to bar his way to his usual table. Kormick had laid a hand on his warhammer. Arden had appeared at his shoulder, twirling a chopstick that somehow, after several days of loitering, had been sharpened into a killing point. "I would not come here triflingly," Kormick observed to the room at large. "You know that."

The waiter had cast his gaze to Arden, who looked him in the eye and spoke for the first time all week: "My boss does not lie."

Kormick had been interested to note that Arden faked an Undian accent beautifully, just as if she really were a member of his hometown crew. That could prove useful if I decide to bring her and her murderous talents back to Dar Und…

The waiter, for his part, had glanced into a shadowy back room, received some signal, and stepped aside.

Today, Kormick sat down at the set place and grinned as the stew appeared in the hands of the grudgingly polite waiter. He'd just accomplished some good old-fashioned gangland diplomacy.

###

That evening, Arden slipped into her usual booth at the Inn of Agreeable Company, reflecting that she was now playing the role of two underhanded characters who hung out at two separate underworld taverns: first was her role here, as the Tide's newly recruited heathen lackey, and second was her role as Kormick's minion for his outreach to the Eighths. That's a lot of lies, she thought, and was troubled to find herself smiling rather than … well, troubled.

She was at a dangerous point with the Tide: they clearly wanted her to do something more—that is, something in the homicide category—to win their trust completely. Unless she did that, she was never going to learn all their plans, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could credibly resist their pressure. Tonight's conversation might get awkward.

But her contact, Shen, thumped onto the bench across from her in an obvious hurry. "Not much time tonight," the Tidesman said, flashing a grin. "And I can't tell you much. But we're about to move. Very soon now."

"What are you going to do?" Arden asked, not having to work hard to feign wide-eyed interest in the answer.

"Can't tell you now. You're not inner circle, not yet. But when it happens, I want you to know it was us, so you'll know that you're on the winning side."

SATURDAY

At their weekly meeting with Lord Ono in the Inquisitorial House, Savina smelled the distinct odor of his antacid tea and felt—as she always did—sorry for the beleaguered man. He needed a vacation so very desperately.

They had reported their efforts for the week and discussed a few of the finer details, but most of the conversation focused on Arden's disturbing intelligence that the Tide were preparing some imminent attack.

"You could learn nothing more?" Ono demanded, taking another swallow of tea. "Not even something said by accident, something you overheard?"

"I'm sorry, my Lord," Arden said. "They don't trust me that much, and the thing is, I'm not sure how much more of their trust I'm willing to earn."

"Well, that's understandable," Ono answered, with another swallow, "but I don't like—I don't like it—" He broke off, coughing.

"Are you all right, Ono-san?" Savina asked.

He kept coughing. With a crash, the teacup fell from his hand and shattered, and in an explosion of red, his cough sprayed brilliant blood across his desk.

 

[RedTonic]

Nooo! Lord Ono!

 

[WisdomLikeSilence]

Wow! Last night, Ilex revealed some major secrets about Arden that she's been quietly keeping under her hat for 3 years. Folks, there is a reason we call her "Deepgame."

Also Fajitas is a crazy DM, but you knew that already.

 

[ellinor]

Thanks for the question, Kuritaki. The answer to "when will we get to learn about it" is hard to predict! But to give you a sense of where we were when, we played the session you're reading now (Session 26) on July 2010. That seems crazy, since it feels like yesterday. But the calendar doesn't lie!

What that means is we're currently running a year and a few months after the game. We'd love to catch up a bit -- we certainly don't want to get farther behind! -- but one never knows.

But never fear, oh those of you (that is, ALL OF US) who are interested in Arden's backstory. You only need to wait until the next update for a taste...