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<blockquote data-quote="skullsmurfer" data-source="post: 2452852" data-attributes="member: 17151"><p><strong>Something Strange, Chapter 27</strong></p><p></p><p>Something Strange, Chapter 27</p><p></p><p> “May I see your tickets?” The stiff conductor bowed slightly as he made his request. These are the kind of passengers he likes, Old Money. “During our brief stop at Passage, a few of our larger suites will become available. Those Vadalis savages inconvenienced quite a few of our clients. I have been told you would have preferred better accommodations?”</p><p></p><p> “How considerate of you....” Theodyl's old lady voice crooned. The conductor reached out for her gnarled hand and planted a kiss on her ring.</p><p></p><p> “Juno, Madame, at your service.” The conductor said as he palmed his tip and handed her a new set of rail passes. “The Thrane authorities will expect to see you identity papers. A minor inconvenience...” The old lady's attendant handed the man a purse. “...but I will see to it that you are not disturbed. These chits will allow you access to the Dining Car. Please don't hesitate to call me if you require anything else.”</p><p></p><p> The conductor hurried away. The cloying scent of old age and nameless medicinal unguents made his head spin. Still, his pockets are full. The Lightning Rail offers steady work, but it won't make a man rich. The secret lies in Service, the rich always want a little extra and Juno makes sure that they get it. As he strolled away he made calculations in his head. His supervisor gets a full cut, the girl at the Dining Car gets a tip , and the Inspectors from Thrane get another. His retirement fund gets fatter by the day.</p><p></p><p> “That was easy.” Siff mused.</p><p></p><p> “Basic Economics,” Theodyl grinned, “everybody wants to make a coin.”</p><p></p><p> “Yeah.....” Everyone but Paragon sighed.</p><p></p><p> “Money is the least of our problems, we need to get to the Mror Holds without anymore trouble.” Paragon worked to keep his friends on point. “That means no games, schemes, or bright ideas from any of you.”</p><p></p><p> All of them agreed with the hulking war-forged. Paragon 157 to 4 let his unwavering gaze weigh over all of them. Experience tells him, this isn't over. He will have to keep watching for the rest of the trip. They might be smarter, but they don't have his focus or his patience.</p><p></p><p> “So....” Theodyl smiled through his make up. “Who wants to play some dice?”</p><p></p><p> Paragon confiscated five sets of loaded dice from his companions. He then removed a harness from Theodyl's wrist containing another two sets. The changelings had a good laugh at the bard's expense. The war-forged harrumphed. He drew an honest set of die from his belt and tossed. Siff called his bet. The game is on.</p><p></p><p>Elsewhere on the Lightning Rail, House Vadalis..........</p><p></p><p> “All clear, sir.” The Vadalis retainers turned to face the doors of their rail car, weapons ready.</p><p></p><p> The coffin lay on its bier. Morel lay his hand on it and prayed that the House will not hold his men responsible for the boy's death. Lodit d'Vadalis was young for an Heir. He was born in one of the many farms of the Eldeen Reaches. The House adopted him just two years ago. It was just a minor negotiation. A training run designed to help the young heir's training along. His escort died within the Trading House, there is no way to know what in blazes he was doing there. Sharn City Council has been more than helpful. Morel has no respect for their machinations, he assumes that they are afraid to loose on whatever deal he was working on. </p><p></p><p> “Morel, we've identified the spy.” One of his men interrupted his thoughts.</p><p>“It's Kreen, we found this in his luggage.” The burly guard gritted his teeth as he spoke. A letter and a bag full of gems hung from his fists.</p><p></p><p> “Bring him to me.” Morel growled. “Post sentries in the hall, there is going to be a lot of noise. Find that suck-up toadie Juno and pay him off if necessary.”</p><p></p><p> Kreen was Lodit's best friend. They had been together since before the boy bore a mark. Was it money, jealousy? Morel will find out. He felt a chill crawling up his spine as his ears picked up the struggling prisoner being led to his rail car. Once, before House Vadalis, he was a ranger and a Bounty Hunter. Asking questions was a specialty he was ashamed of. Kreen is about to learn a harsh lesson.</p><p></p><p> “Strap him down to that chair.” Morel ordered, not deigning to look at the young man's face. “Olriff, did you find this?”</p><p></p><p> “No sir, it was the new man from Owl's Perch.” The big man answered wiping the sweat from his brow. “Eriol, he just signed up a year ago.</p><p></p><p> “I want him here for this then.” Olriff twitched. “Be ready to kill either of them.” Every one of his men stiffened at his words. Morel doesn't care. His instincts guide him as much as his educated mind. He draws the line, though, at having to explain himself his men. They know who's in charge.</p><p></p><p> Kreen made noises through his gag. He's been tied up tight. His hands are further bonded in stiff leather gauntlets. He's no mage, but you never know. Morel sat and read through the letter found in his luggage. His eyebrows went up. House Vadalis has plans to marry off the young Heir, he already knew that. The relationship between the two young men, is something he did not expect. On hindsight, he should have noticed. Morel glared at the Kreen, he made a distinct sniffing sound and then turned away. Olriff is on his way back with the Eriol fellow. He can hear them chattering away. Eriol is a nervous talker, good to know.</p><p></p><p> “Shut the doors.” Morel snapped. His men are nervous, but they are on point. One of them is conveniently close to Eriol's back. He removed his prisoner's gag and got things started. “Tell me, where were you at noon today.”</p><p></p><p> The young man spat. His next few sentences weren't very polite. Morel drew his long knife. It is sheathed in silver, and it is very sharp. Kreen eyed the blade, but he didn't budge until he saw the guards turning away. Lodit was leaving him. The letter broke his heart, but the bag of gems set a fire in his blood. He wasn't about to be dismissed like a tavern whore.</p><p></p><p> “What was he doing at the Trade House?” Morel pushed, his knife tracing an imaginary line across his throat. “I checked his itinerary, he was supposed to be at the House for a 1 P.M. Appointment.”</p><p></p><p> “How the hell should I know, I was waiting for him at the station!” the young man snapped, “He wanted to make sure I got on the Lightning Rail. I was going to make a big show of it to embarrass him.” Kreen sniffled and bit his lip. “I never wanted any of this.....he's the one who talked me into tagging along!”</p><p></p><p> “Stupid Poof,” Eriol sneered, “Didn't I tell you?” Olriff started to laugh loudly. Morel has been watching Eriol, the cruel jive aside, the man has a relieved look in his eyes. Twice, he's seen the man wipe his palm on his tabard. His palms are very sweaty.</p><p></p><p> “Olriff, when precisely did Eriol tell you Kreen was a “Poof”?” Morel cocked his head towards the two.</p><p></p><p> “Just as we was walking here.” Eriol answered. “Isn't that right?”</p><p></p><p> “No, he was making jokes since last week, Sir.” Olriff corrected. Almost everyone he meets assumes that he is stupid. Morel is the only person who's never made that mistake.</p><p></p><p> “Did he read the letter when he found it?” Morel turned his blade towards Eriol. The guard behind him is ready for the man to bolt.</p><p></p><p> “No Sir, I read it.” Olriff bit his lip. “But Eriol wasn't there, I sent him to watch the exit, just in case, Sir.”</p><p></p><p> “How did you know Eriol?” Morel growled dangerously. “Did someone else tell you?” </p><p></p><p> The man moved so fast none of the guards had time to react. A knife flew across the room and sank into Morel's chest. Another knife bit into Olriff's belly. The Vadalis retainers drew steel and moved to put a stop to Eriol. The man didn't stand still long enough to let them. He was moving too fast to be human.</p><p></p><p> “Leave him to me!!!” Morel barked, “watch the doors, don't let him out!”</p><p></p><p> Eriol lunged towards Morel, but nearly tripped as a pair of bestial orange eyes caught his gaze. Morel grinned through a set of gleaming white fangs. The spy back pedaled, trying to halt his own charge. Morel caught him by the arm and slammed Eriol into the floor. His arm bent at an unnatural angle. Something broke. The man's good arm lashed out with a knife, but it did nothing to stop the werewolf. Morel caught his wrist and wrenched until it broke. The man tried to kick away, his legs are moving superhumanly fast. Morel grinned, soaking up the damage. In one swift movement he trapped an offending limb and broke it at the knee. The man passed out. He then picked him up by his shirt and tossed him onto a sturdy chair.</p><p></p><p> “Tie him down!” the werewolf growled. “Strip him, search for magic and anything else of interest!” His blood is running hot, he took a moment to pray and calm his raging heart. He's hungry. “Olriff, set his bones and bandage his ribs. No healing until later, though. I want some answers first.”</p><p></p><p> Kreen stared at the House Vadalis Retainers with open mouthed shock. In all his life, he's never seen the like. Morel stared back at him as his features slowly regained their ruggedly human appearance. To his credit, the young man did not flinch. It isn't everyday that happens. House Vadalis will have to decide his fate. A tale about werewolves would not be convenient for the House.</p><p></p><p> “Are you going to untie me, yet?” The young man demanded. “I'll be damned if I soil myself in front of you bastards!”</p><p></p><p> “Untie the boy.” Ordered Morel. “Keep him here, though, he might want to see this.” Somehow, the ranger was a lot more terrifying when he spoke in a calm voice.</p><p></p><p> “My father calls me boy, and no one else!” Kreen spat. He always did have a temper. “Let me at my sword and I will teach you a lesson!” Big mouth, little sword the soldiers say. He was politely ignored.</p><p></p><p> The men held Eriol down as Olriff wrestled his limbs back into their proper shapes and bandaged them. He mewled like a baby. Morel asked him some questions, he passed out again. They feed him a minor curative to bring him back to consciousness.</p><p></p><p> “Whom do you serve, traitor?” The questions started again. </p><p></p><p>Now back to Theodyl's room........</p><p></p><p> Theodyl woke up to find the dwarven spirit staring at him. He shook the sleep from his eyes and reached for a bottle of wine. It was empty. Now fully awake, the bard crawled out of his bunk and snatched a bottle from Siff's sleeping arms.</p><p></p><p> “How goes it, Ser Dwarf? You haven't been around much.” Theodyl said as he uncorked his new bottle.</p><p></p><p> “I've been at my Post.” The dwarf puffed out his chest. “There was some trouble, some thief has been at me door.” The dwarf's anger made the room cold.</p><p></p><p> “I can't imagine anyone giving you trouble.” Theodyl raised his eyebrows and wondered what could be so important to keep the dwarf from his grave. Was it an oath? Is he cursed? Could it be a powerful sense of Duty? He briefly thought to ask. Would the spirit be offended? It would make a great song.</p><p></p><p> “They didn't.” The dwarf growled. “But that isn't what I came here for. I've somebody who'd like to speak to ye. It is another spirit, but not here.” The dwarf's answer shook the bard out of his thoughts. The spirit has never asked for anything other than beer and a good fight.</p><p></p><p> Theodyl dressed, careful not to wake the changelings. Paragon is probably with his lads in the freight cars. He snatched up his flute and Patter's cloak on his way out. A good thief should sleep lightly. The half-elf almost snickered. </p><p></p><p> “This way.” The dwarf waved just before slipping through a wall.</p><p></p><p> Theodyl used the skeleton key Patter acquired earlier to gain access to a state room. It is immediately obvious to him that it's been searched and ransacked. There are clothes everywhere. The dwarven spirit is standing in the middle of the room and a hazy shape is hovering beside him.</p><p></p><p> “This is Lodit,” the spirit said, “he was pretty upset when I found him. He's got a friend that's in trouble.”</p><p></p><p> The ghost of a young man took shape before Theodyl's eyes. He is wearing a House Vadalis Sigil on his vest. The bard felt his heart sink as he remembered the coffin and the House Vadalis retainers. Six people died when the dragons crushed the Sharn Trade House. He feels more than a little guilty.</p><p></p><p> “What can I do for you?” the bard asked. The spirit did not speak, rather a swirl of images, words, and emotions invaded his mind. It took a few moments, but as soon as he understood, Theodyl made for the House Vadalis suites on the Lightning rail.</p><p></p><p> Olriff let the half-elf in after searching him for weapons. Apart from a bottle of wine and a flute, the bard carried nothing of interest. Morel looked up from his prisoner with interest as the half-elf spoke the password. The werewolf caught the scent of too much wine and a little bit of nervousness. No lies.</p><p></p><p> “I don't know you, what the hell do you want?” Morel growled. Eriol mewled. His face looks like a potato, he probably thinks he was being asked another question. “Heal him, let him rest for an hour. No food, but water is fine.”</p><p></p><p> “I bear a message for one Morel of Vadalis and another for Kreen of Mossmantle.” Theodyl spoke as he emptied his wine bottle. “I would prefer to do it all at once.” The room grew noticeably colder. A ghostly shape drew everyone's attention. </p><p></p><p> “Lodit d'Vadalis wishes to say that the Hag from Aundair has taken an interest in House Vadalis trade in Sharn. He would like to warn the border towns to watch for mercenary raids paid for by Aundair Nobles. She wants your Lands.” Morel looked a bit shaken, but he hid his expression almost instantly. “He further advises you not to kill Eriol, he is working for some other House Vadalis interests. They intended to gain control of the young Heir through Blackmail. They found out about Kreen. You will find some letters to that effect in Eriol's room, inside his bed cushion. Lodit was lured to the Sharn Trade House to meet one of their agents. Your men were not at fault, though some would say otherwise.”</p><p></p><p> The room was silent. Morel's hands shook with rage. Lodit's hazy apparition drifted towards a young man staring fearfully at the bard. Theodyl felt sorry for him, he would be scared of ghosts too if he had any sense. When the bard gets a chance, he intends to beg, borrow, or steal some.</p><p></p><p> “Kreen, Lodit says that he's sorry. He was trying to get you out of danger, he didn't have time to be gentle about it. Lodit loves you and he hopes that you can forgive him. He says that you would have been happier if he hadn't talked you into leaving your home town.” Theodyl cocked his head as if to listen to some far away voices. </p><p> </p><p> “Here is a gift, more befitting My Handsome Swashbuckler from the Reaches.” Another spoke through Theodyl's mouth. Kreen's eyes filled with tears at the sound of his Lover's voice. The bard shook the presence away with a shudder. He felt the ghost's emotions for just a fraction of a moment. “Lodit says that you should still watch your temper, even if you now have a blade to back up your sharp tongue.”</p><p></p><p> A heavy bundle hit the floor just in front of Kreen. It simply fell out of nowhere. Morel growled looking about nervously. The young man shook the stone dust from it and unwrapped it with unsteady hands. Theodyl realized it must have come from beneath the rubble in Sharn. An intense feeling of shame made his face burn. He watched Kreen examine his gift with bitter sweet delight. It is a jeweled dueling saber, in a green snake skin sheath. The young man drew it and blinked at the polished blade. He sniffled, but he did not cry.</p><p></p><p> “Thank you...” Kreen choked. “I'm sorry I was mad at you. I didn't mean what I said. I am not sorry I left Mossmantle, not one bit.” The young man swung the blade, testing it's balance. He gave the prisoner a very unpleasant look. Morel stepped protectively in between them. </p><p></p><p> “He heard you, Kreen.” Theodyl said helping himself to the luxurious bar.</p><p>“He says Thank You and Goodbye.” The ghostly shape faded away.</p><p></p><p> “That's some of my best bourbon, damn it,” Morel complained, “At least pour me a glass.” Theodyl ended up serving everyone in the rail car. The prisoner wore his drink. “Disinfectant,” Morel said cruelly.</p><p></p><p> Introductions followed more drinks. Theodyl answered what questions he could, to tell the truth, he wanted to leave. Once he started talking though, he forgot about his troubles for a moment. The House Vadalis men were very suspicious. To their credit they coaxed their answers out of him rather than being pushy. Lodit's spirit is gone. He could still see the dwarven spirit, even if they could not. Theodyl was very safe. Kreen sat quietly nursing his drink. He stared at the coffin mostly. The men from Vadalis did not include him in their jests. Neither did the young man try to join their conversations. </p><p></p><p> Once boredom set in, Theodyl left. Morel told him to look him up in Niern, if he ever visits the Eldeen Reaches. The bard is feeling strangely worn. He needs to think about what just happened, but he is too tired. He didn't even say hello to Paragon as he collapsed into his bunk. His dreams were not pleasant. He twisted and turned frequently in his sleep.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="skullsmurfer, post: 2452852, member: 17151"] [b]Something Strange, Chapter 27[/b] Something Strange, Chapter 27 “May I see your tickets?” The stiff conductor bowed slightly as he made his request. These are the kind of passengers he likes, Old Money. “During our brief stop at Passage, a few of our larger suites will become available. Those Vadalis savages inconvenienced quite a few of our clients. I have been told you would have preferred better accommodations?” “How considerate of you....” Theodyl's old lady voice crooned. The conductor reached out for her gnarled hand and planted a kiss on her ring. “Juno, Madame, at your service.” The conductor said as he palmed his tip and handed her a new set of rail passes. “The Thrane authorities will expect to see you identity papers. A minor inconvenience...” The old lady's attendant handed the man a purse. “...but I will see to it that you are not disturbed. These chits will allow you access to the Dining Car. Please don't hesitate to call me if you require anything else.” The conductor hurried away. The cloying scent of old age and nameless medicinal unguents made his head spin. Still, his pockets are full. The Lightning Rail offers steady work, but it won't make a man rich. The secret lies in Service, the rich always want a little extra and Juno makes sure that they get it. As he strolled away he made calculations in his head. His supervisor gets a full cut, the girl at the Dining Car gets a tip , and the Inspectors from Thrane get another. His retirement fund gets fatter by the day. “That was easy.” Siff mused. “Basic Economics,” Theodyl grinned, “everybody wants to make a coin.” “Yeah.....” Everyone but Paragon sighed. “Money is the least of our problems, we need to get to the Mror Holds without anymore trouble.” Paragon worked to keep his friends on point. “That means no games, schemes, or bright ideas from any of you.” All of them agreed with the hulking war-forged. Paragon 157 to 4 let his unwavering gaze weigh over all of them. Experience tells him, this isn't over. He will have to keep watching for the rest of the trip. They might be smarter, but they don't have his focus or his patience. “So....” Theodyl smiled through his make up. “Who wants to play some dice?” Paragon confiscated five sets of loaded dice from his companions. He then removed a harness from Theodyl's wrist containing another two sets. The changelings had a good laugh at the bard's expense. The war-forged harrumphed. He drew an honest set of die from his belt and tossed. Siff called his bet. The game is on. Elsewhere on the Lightning Rail, House Vadalis.......... “All clear, sir.” The Vadalis retainers turned to face the doors of their rail car, weapons ready. The coffin lay on its bier. Morel lay his hand on it and prayed that the House will not hold his men responsible for the boy's death. Lodit d'Vadalis was young for an Heir. He was born in one of the many farms of the Eldeen Reaches. The House adopted him just two years ago. It was just a minor negotiation. A training run designed to help the young heir's training along. His escort died within the Trading House, there is no way to know what in blazes he was doing there. Sharn City Council has been more than helpful. Morel has no respect for their machinations, he assumes that they are afraid to loose on whatever deal he was working on. “Morel, we've identified the spy.” One of his men interrupted his thoughts. “It's Kreen, we found this in his luggage.” The burly guard gritted his teeth as he spoke. A letter and a bag full of gems hung from his fists. “Bring him to me.” Morel growled. “Post sentries in the hall, there is going to be a lot of noise. Find that suck-up toadie Juno and pay him off if necessary.” Kreen was Lodit's best friend. They had been together since before the boy bore a mark. Was it money, jealousy? Morel will find out. He felt a chill crawling up his spine as his ears picked up the struggling prisoner being led to his rail car. Once, before House Vadalis, he was a ranger and a Bounty Hunter. Asking questions was a specialty he was ashamed of. Kreen is about to learn a harsh lesson. “Strap him down to that chair.” Morel ordered, not deigning to look at the young man's face. “Olriff, did you find this?” “No sir, it was the new man from Owl's Perch.” The big man answered wiping the sweat from his brow. “Eriol, he just signed up a year ago. “I want him here for this then.” Olriff twitched. “Be ready to kill either of them.” Every one of his men stiffened at his words. Morel doesn't care. His instincts guide him as much as his educated mind. He draws the line, though, at having to explain himself his men. They know who's in charge. Kreen made noises through his gag. He's been tied up tight. His hands are further bonded in stiff leather gauntlets. He's no mage, but you never know. Morel sat and read through the letter found in his luggage. His eyebrows went up. House Vadalis has plans to marry off the young Heir, he already knew that. The relationship between the two young men, is something he did not expect. On hindsight, he should have noticed. Morel glared at the Kreen, he made a distinct sniffing sound and then turned away. Olriff is on his way back with the Eriol fellow. He can hear them chattering away. Eriol is a nervous talker, good to know. “Shut the doors.” Morel snapped. His men are nervous, but they are on point. One of them is conveniently close to Eriol's back. He removed his prisoner's gag and got things started. “Tell me, where were you at noon today.” The young man spat. His next few sentences weren't very polite. Morel drew his long knife. It is sheathed in silver, and it is very sharp. Kreen eyed the blade, but he didn't budge until he saw the guards turning away. Lodit was leaving him. The letter broke his heart, but the bag of gems set a fire in his blood. He wasn't about to be dismissed like a tavern whore. “What was he doing at the Trade House?” Morel pushed, his knife tracing an imaginary line across his throat. “I checked his itinerary, he was supposed to be at the House for a 1 P.M. Appointment.” “How the hell should I know, I was waiting for him at the station!” the young man snapped, “He wanted to make sure I got on the Lightning Rail. I was going to make a big show of it to embarrass him.” Kreen sniffled and bit his lip. “I never wanted any of this.....he's the one who talked me into tagging along!” “Stupid Poof,” Eriol sneered, “Didn't I tell you?” Olriff started to laugh loudly. Morel has been watching Eriol, the cruel jive aside, the man has a relieved look in his eyes. Twice, he's seen the man wipe his palm on his tabard. His palms are very sweaty. “Olriff, when precisely did Eriol tell you Kreen was a “Poof”?” Morel cocked his head towards the two. “Just as we was walking here.” Eriol answered. “Isn't that right?” “No, he was making jokes since last week, Sir.” Olriff corrected. Almost everyone he meets assumes that he is stupid. Morel is the only person who's never made that mistake. “Did he read the letter when he found it?” Morel turned his blade towards Eriol. The guard behind him is ready for the man to bolt. “No Sir, I read it.” Olriff bit his lip. “But Eriol wasn't there, I sent him to watch the exit, just in case, Sir.” “How did you know Eriol?” Morel growled dangerously. “Did someone else tell you?” The man moved so fast none of the guards had time to react. A knife flew across the room and sank into Morel's chest. Another knife bit into Olriff's belly. The Vadalis retainers drew steel and moved to put a stop to Eriol. The man didn't stand still long enough to let them. He was moving too fast to be human. “Leave him to me!!!” Morel barked, “watch the doors, don't let him out!” Eriol lunged towards Morel, but nearly tripped as a pair of bestial orange eyes caught his gaze. Morel grinned through a set of gleaming white fangs. The spy back pedaled, trying to halt his own charge. Morel caught him by the arm and slammed Eriol into the floor. His arm bent at an unnatural angle. Something broke. The man's good arm lashed out with a knife, but it did nothing to stop the werewolf. Morel caught his wrist and wrenched until it broke. The man tried to kick away, his legs are moving superhumanly fast. Morel grinned, soaking up the damage. In one swift movement he trapped an offending limb and broke it at the knee. The man passed out. He then picked him up by his shirt and tossed him onto a sturdy chair. “Tie him down!” the werewolf growled. “Strip him, search for magic and anything else of interest!” His blood is running hot, he took a moment to pray and calm his raging heart. He's hungry. “Olriff, set his bones and bandage his ribs. No healing until later, though. I want some answers first.” Kreen stared at the House Vadalis Retainers with open mouthed shock. In all his life, he's never seen the like. Morel stared back at him as his features slowly regained their ruggedly human appearance. To his credit, the young man did not flinch. It isn't everyday that happens. House Vadalis will have to decide his fate. A tale about werewolves would not be convenient for the House. “Are you going to untie me, yet?” The young man demanded. “I'll be damned if I soil myself in front of you bastards!” “Untie the boy.” Ordered Morel. “Keep him here, though, he might want to see this.” Somehow, the ranger was a lot more terrifying when he spoke in a calm voice. “My father calls me boy, and no one else!” Kreen spat. He always did have a temper. “Let me at my sword and I will teach you a lesson!” Big mouth, little sword the soldiers say. He was politely ignored. The men held Eriol down as Olriff wrestled his limbs back into their proper shapes and bandaged them. He mewled like a baby. Morel asked him some questions, he passed out again. They feed him a minor curative to bring him back to consciousness. “Whom do you serve, traitor?” The questions started again. Now back to Theodyl's room........ Theodyl woke up to find the dwarven spirit staring at him. He shook the sleep from his eyes and reached for a bottle of wine. It was empty. Now fully awake, the bard crawled out of his bunk and snatched a bottle from Siff's sleeping arms. “How goes it, Ser Dwarf? You haven't been around much.” Theodyl said as he uncorked his new bottle. “I've been at my Post.” The dwarf puffed out his chest. “There was some trouble, some thief has been at me door.” The dwarf's anger made the room cold. “I can't imagine anyone giving you trouble.” Theodyl raised his eyebrows and wondered what could be so important to keep the dwarf from his grave. Was it an oath? Is he cursed? Could it be a powerful sense of Duty? He briefly thought to ask. Would the spirit be offended? It would make a great song. “They didn't.” The dwarf growled. “But that isn't what I came here for. I've somebody who'd like to speak to ye. It is another spirit, but not here.” The dwarf's answer shook the bard out of his thoughts. The spirit has never asked for anything other than beer and a good fight. Theodyl dressed, careful not to wake the changelings. Paragon is probably with his lads in the freight cars. He snatched up his flute and Patter's cloak on his way out. A good thief should sleep lightly. The half-elf almost snickered. “This way.” The dwarf waved just before slipping through a wall. Theodyl used the skeleton key Patter acquired earlier to gain access to a state room. It is immediately obvious to him that it's been searched and ransacked. There are clothes everywhere. The dwarven spirit is standing in the middle of the room and a hazy shape is hovering beside him. “This is Lodit,” the spirit said, “he was pretty upset when I found him. He's got a friend that's in trouble.” The ghost of a young man took shape before Theodyl's eyes. He is wearing a House Vadalis Sigil on his vest. The bard felt his heart sink as he remembered the coffin and the House Vadalis retainers. Six people died when the dragons crushed the Sharn Trade House. He feels more than a little guilty. “What can I do for you?” the bard asked. The spirit did not speak, rather a swirl of images, words, and emotions invaded his mind. It took a few moments, but as soon as he understood, Theodyl made for the House Vadalis suites on the Lightning rail. Olriff let the half-elf in after searching him for weapons. Apart from a bottle of wine and a flute, the bard carried nothing of interest. Morel looked up from his prisoner with interest as the half-elf spoke the password. The werewolf caught the scent of too much wine and a little bit of nervousness. No lies. “I don't know you, what the hell do you want?” Morel growled. Eriol mewled. His face looks like a potato, he probably thinks he was being asked another question. “Heal him, let him rest for an hour. No food, but water is fine.” “I bear a message for one Morel of Vadalis and another for Kreen of Mossmantle.” Theodyl spoke as he emptied his wine bottle. “I would prefer to do it all at once.” The room grew noticeably colder. A ghostly shape drew everyone's attention. “Lodit d'Vadalis wishes to say that the Hag from Aundair has taken an interest in House Vadalis trade in Sharn. He would like to warn the border towns to watch for mercenary raids paid for by Aundair Nobles. She wants your Lands.” Morel looked a bit shaken, but he hid his expression almost instantly. “He further advises you not to kill Eriol, he is working for some other House Vadalis interests. They intended to gain control of the young Heir through Blackmail. They found out about Kreen. You will find some letters to that effect in Eriol's room, inside his bed cushion. Lodit was lured to the Sharn Trade House to meet one of their agents. Your men were not at fault, though some would say otherwise.” The room was silent. Morel's hands shook with rage. Lodit's hazy apparition drifted towards a young man staring fearfully at the bard. Theodyl felt sorry for him, he would be scared of ghosts too if he had any sense. When the bard gets a chance, he intends to beg, borrow, or steal some. “Kreen, Lodit says that he's sorry. He was trying to get you out of danger, he didn't have time to be gentle about it. Lodit loves you and he hopes that you can forgive him. He says that you would have been happier if he hadn't talked you into leaving your home town.” Theodyl cocked his head as if to listen to some far away voices. “Here is a gift, more befitting My Handsome Swashbuckler from the Reaches.” Another spoke through Theodyl's mouth. Kreen's eyes filled with tears at the sound of his Lover's voice. The bard shook the presence away with a shudder. He felt the ghost's emotions for just a fraction of a moment. “Lodit says that you should still watch your temper, even if you now have a blade to back up your sharp tongue.” A heavy bundle hit the floor just in front of Kreen. It simply fell out of nowhere. Morel growled looking about nervously. The young man shook the stone dust from it and unwrapped it with unsteady hands. Theodyl realized it must have come from beneath the rubble in Sharn. An intense feeling of shame made his face burn. He watched Kreen examine his gift with bitter sweet delight. It is a jeweled dueling saber, in a green snake skin sheath. The young man drew it and blinked at the polished blade. He sniffled, but he did not cry. “Thank you...” Kreen choked. “I'm sorry I was mad at you. I didn't mean what I said. I am not sorry I left Mossmantle, not one bit.” The young man swung the blade, testing it's balance. He gave the prisoner a very unpleasant look. Morel stepped protectively in between them. “He heard you, Kreen.” Theodyl said helping himself to the luxurious bar. “He says Thank You and Goodbye.” The ghostly shape faded away. “That's some of my best bourbon, damn it,” Morel complained, “At least pour me a glass.” Theodyl ended up serving everyone in the rail car. The prisoner wore his drink. “Disinfectant,” Morel said cruelly. Introductions followed more drinks. Theodyl answered what questions he could, to tell the truth, he wanted to leave. Once he started talking though, he forgot about his troubles for a moment. The House Vadalis men were very suspicious. To their credit they coaxed their answers out of him rather than being pushy. Lodit's spirit is gone. He could still see the dwarven spirit, even if they could not. Theodyl was very safe. Kreen sat quietly nursing his drink. He stared at the coffin mostly. The men from Vadalis did not include him in their jests. Neither did the young man try to join their conversations. Once boredom set in, Theodyl left. Morel told him to look him up in Niern, if he ever visits the Eldeen Reaches. The bard is feeling strangely worn. He needs to think about what just happened, but he is too tired. He didn't even say hello to Paragon as he collapsed into his bunk. His dreams were not pleasant. He twisted and turned frequently in his sleep. [/QUOTE]
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Adventures in Eberron> Chapter 32 posted 08-08-05>
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