(Casual D&D IV) A Knight for a Pawn

[Sparky]

Oliver spent a pleasant evening with Xiao that started as an attempt at learning more of Thedoric's role in the Despia's history and ended, as it became clear to Oliver that Thedoric seemed a footnote on the parchment scrolls of Despia's fine historians, with tales from the old pit-fighter about Hedrogura, about his wife Arrowyn, about his long-cherished dream of becoming a Druid. And still more tales, whispered with a-bit-too-dramatic reverence, from Xiao about his fantastic home and the strange customs there. He slips from time to time into his native language, though it doesn't seem to hinder Oliver's understanding.

"Really?" slurs Oliver, "Your vows prevent you from... *hic* Really?" His brow furrowed overmuch and he ordered another round. Xiao made another sloshy toast in his own language and Oliver repeated it perfectly. He tossed the drink back, "What the devil did I just say? You have to teach me."

The two strolled with linked arms from the last watering hole they visited singing loudly as they did, a tune that the normally placid young man had taught the old-crinkly one.

They came in well after the others had gone to bed and joined Raven in their suspicious and careful consumption of breakfast.

"I'm too old for this. Got anything for hangover, Fendric," he mutters. He remembers the evening in half-flashes and prickles with well-disguised embarrassment at the baring of his soul to Xiao.

*****

Oliver sits quietly in the meeting with Kethett, his gravitation toward shadows less to do with his slinking nature than the throbbing in his head. He catches Raven's bleary eyes and shares a pained expression with the man.

He is grateful for the chance to sit quietly and listens to Fendric's recounting of the time since the group had left Caval's Horde in Hedrogura. It seemed like decades had passed since he saw Fendric's tonsured head duck through the open doorway.

He nods at Tatlock's question and Raven's response, "Would you like to learn lad? I'll see if I can find a set here in town."

*****

Later, over the ruins of a filling, simple dinner that chased away the last bits of Oliver's headache and queasiness, Oliver plays at Knights with Tatlock and Raven harumphing over the boy's shoulder, "No, you see there, Tatlock m'boy - he's trying to draw you out. Try to look ahead."

He's not bad at this. He glances up at the end of the table where the rest of the group sits talking quietly. He excuses himself from the game, "Don't let him trick you, boy," and moves to sit the others.

"I was thinking. We're uncertain of the contents, intent and impact of these letters we're blindly delivering. But it's the impact that concerns me the most. What word do we have from Bethel, from Eivanrach, from anywhere the letters have been? I'd like to spend some time finding out what we can."



OOC: Sorry for the liberties doghead, if you object I can edit. I could just so cleary see the two of them getting out of hand and swapping stories.

 

[dpdx]

"I was thinking. We're uncertain of the contents, intent and impact of these letters we're blindly delivering. But it's the impact that concerns me the most. What word do we have from Bethel, from Eivanrach, from anywhere the letters have been? I'd like to spend some time finding out what we can."

Fendric's ears perk up from his position toward the end of the long table, where the remains of a meal sit conquered on his plate.

"Pelor has granted me the gift of sending, brief messages to anyone I know, which comes with the ability to hear a similar brief response from said recipient. Perhaps that could be of some assistance to us, as you say, in finding out what we can, which is a splendid idea, may the Radiant Light grant us the Wisdom to choose effectively."

Hiritus, sitting just past him, listens intently, smiling.

"I could help you keep the message brief..."

Fendric's lips turn slightly upward in a grimace.

"I shan't need the help, Brother. But thank you anyway, I think.

I can send one, maybe two such messages per day. I should like to start with my Temple in Hedrogura, then possibly Father Premule if that is possible. If it isn't, then one of Shavah's Heironean guard should receive it, perhaps Lanatus - he seemed most leaderlike of the ones who remained. Working forward, of course, from our beginnings in Hedrogura.

Speaking of which, I have thought back on some of our earlier actions - our talk with Brother Aramil prompted it.

Before Sir Exantrius passed away, we were headed directly to Eivanrach, per his orders. After he died, since Jance was closest, we went there, and then to Bethel."

Hiritus interjects. "Good that you did, actually. If you went to Eivanrach, you would have eventually done so alone. All of us here are here because you went where you did, when you did."

"Yes, of course, but then we do not find ourselves in a village when Father Premule very clearly was in that large house in the pit town, before. And I don't get the chance to fail him in his rescue. And we don't lose days in that village waiting for 'Nerullian cultists,' when very clearly there were none."

Hiritus decides not to argue with his friend any more.

"I shall endeavor to think more clearly, may Pelor be my Guide."

 

[Guilt Puppy]

We're uncertain of the contents, intent and impact of these letters we're blindly delivering. But it's the impact that concerns me the most. What word do we have from Bethel, from Eivanrach, from anywhere the letters have been?

Shavah responds in agreement. "I'd like to hear word from Bethel, myself... I haven't liked the rumors we've encountered since crossing over the mountains. Eivanrach is near enough that we may be able to find some reliable information in this city... And we know at least what that letter was about." (Refresher: It advised that the Jury of Sages should move to prevent unification among the Free Cities.)

I can send one, maybe two such messages per day. I should like to start with my Temple in Hedrogura, then possibly Father Premule if that is possible. If it isn't, then one of Shavah's Heironean guard should receive it, perhaps Lanatus - he seemed most leaderlike of the ones who remained. Working forward, of course, from our beginnings in Hedrogura.

"If Father Premule is still imprisoned, it may be difficult to reach him... The Visach's guard has much magic at its disposal. Lanatus, though..." She nods, looking off into the distance. "He liked to stay on top of things, I imagine he'd know as much as anyone."

Tatlock, meanwhile, seems bothered to see Oliver leave the game, after he's worked so hard to memorize how all the pieces move... Tugging at Raven's shirt, he encourages the woodsman to pick up where the lutist left off. "We can call these pieces archers, if you want," he says, pointing to a pawn.

 

[DrZombie]

"All right, Tatlock. I'll play, although it's been ages." Raven studies the board, recalling with a whince the beatings he received from his former captain, and his anger at loosing this highly addictive game.

 

[dpdx]

"If Father Premule is still imprisoned, it may be difficult to reach him... The Visach's guard has much magic at its disposal. Lanatus, though..." She nods, looking off into the distance. "He liked to stay on top of things, I imagine he'd know as much as anyone."

"Lanatus it is, then. I would also like to see this Monument in the morning, then, before we return to Brother Aramil tomorrow. Good night - I shall be in my room, preparing scrolls. Pel- The gods Bless and Keep You All, then!"

Hiritus nods his agreement, and sends him off with a hoist of his (full) ale tankard. As Fendric walks away, a slight grimace of sympathy finds its way to the young knight's features.

"It's wearing him down, this journey..." Hiritus mumbles through clenched teeth to no one in particular.

---------------------------

Once at the room, Fendric sets to work. With the last of his incense burning, he retrieves the sheaf of parchment that Aramil's staff handed him, and the ink and quill.

As soon as he recites the words to cure critical wounds in his head, he stops. (This will take all night, and longer. I cannot do this now.)

He puts the writing materials carefully away, and preserves what he can of the incense. Marching back downstairs, he stops at the bar before rejoining his comrades.

---------------------------

Hiritus notices out of the corner of his eye that Fendric has returned downstairs. Excusing himself, he joins Fendric at the bar in time to hear his friend finish receiving directions to the nearest Temple, and a comprehensive understanding of any curfews that may apply to Despia.

 

[Guilt Puppy]

"It's wearing him down, this journey..."

"I've noticed," Shavah responds, pointedly. "I feel it with him -- we haven't had much success... Or, no, much victory, I think is a better word. He's too humble to admit it, but he wants to be doing more than delivering letters. I think all of us do. Especially when we've yet to see them solve much of anything..."

She lifts her drink, sipping heartily. "It's been agonizing, to be honest. I am here on behalf of my city, my country, and my clergy -- and I don't know that I've done any of them a bit of good. I imagine Fendric feels the same way. I'm still not sure that these letters will do any good for Bethel, or Hedrogura, for that matter... I'm not sure I really believe that Thedoric has anything to do with it. But I believe in Fendric... When he's confident, his will is too strong for him to fail. But when he begins to doubt..." Shavah takes another sip. "That can be agonizing, too."

...

Come morning, the group awakens to find Tatlock up early -- playing a game of Kingsmen against himself, to no surprise. As Raven has noted, the game is indeed addicting, and Tatlock is perhaps too naive to find it intimidating, as well. It takes some work to turn him from it and toward breakfast, and to a short walk to the monument, but eventually he does concede.

Under the morning haze, the crestless shield and standing sword still seem radiant at the center of their garden, perhaps a hint of their secret enchantment. The area is quiet, with only an occasional passerby: Whatever this place is to the city, it plays no significant part in the morning rituals of work and wakening.

 

[Festy_Dog]

Nurthk sat nearby, gazing intently at the small shrine of sorts. Shavah's words had been weighing heavily upon his mind. He had very little reason to be here, when he thought about it. Fendric, Hiritus, and Shavah were all driven by their faiths. This journey meant more to them than just a journey.

In the beginning, it was Nurthk's own faith that drove him to stick with the group, but he had gradually moved away from it as time went on. He still maintained his favour in St. Cuthbert, but the changes in his outlook had directed him towards something else now. He had also joined with the intention of making amends for something he felt he had failed some time ago. There was no longer any religious motivation to remain, and the past had grown more distant and irrelevent, he simply desired to see through what he had started now.

"I wonder if Thedoric would be the one to hear it, it would be interesting if someone else was closer," the half-orc muses.

 

[Guilt Puppy]

"Fair point, Nurthk," Shavah says. "We should choose our words carefully..." She looks around. "Who wants to do the speaking?"

 

[DrZombie]

"Not I", Raven says. "I'm not the most diplomatic, and anyway, I wouldn't know what to say."

 

[dpdx]

"If the Order is non-denominational, perhaps I can prepare a prayer..." Fendric offers.