-
The VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX is coming! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
"Out of the Frying Pan" - Book II: Catching the Spark (Part Two) - {complete}
- Thread starter el-remmen
- Start date
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Session #28 (part IV)
Martin spent the afternoon going over his notes and maps, and then he visited the alderman again to make sure he had received the message. He learned that the hearing would be held in the common room of the Golden Plough the next morning.
Meanwhile, back in their cells, Kazrack, Beorth, Jeremy and Jana were trying to figure out the best way to approach any questioning they might receive at the hearing.
“They did not take my runestones from me,” Kazrack said to his imprisoned companions. “They were hidden beneath my shirt. I can use them to seek council from my gods as to what the best course of action may be.”
“Why bother asking your gods when I can tell you that only the truth will set us free?” Beorth said.
Jeremy rolled his eyes, “He is going to tell the truth, but he wants to know how it might be received.”
“Unless you have a better idea of what to ask my gods’ guidance for?” Kazrack said, looking directly across at the paladin.
“Perhaps a better question to as would be what will happen to people if…,” Beorth paused. “I don’t know, Kazrack. I don’t know.”
“Okay. Then throw your stones, Kazrack,” Jeremy said.
The dwarf nodded and sat on the floor, cleared the flagstones of as much dirt and dust as possible. He took the bag of stones from around his neck and hefted their weight in his right hand. It was reassuring. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind of everything, but his question. He could see the dwarven runes that spelled out what he wanted to know glowing in the darkness of his mind’s eye, and then switching the bag to his left hand he let out a low chant, and scattered the stones on the floor.
The question was: With the exception of Jana, will our captors free us upon hearing the truth?
He moved the stones around with a hand and grouped them some, making connections and letting his intuition guide him.
This was his interpretation: “The truth is a weight like a stone, that in this case will be passed on for someone else to bear.
Kazrack was relaying his interpretation of the stones when the door to the area the cells were in burst open, and in marched the guard on duty.
“Are you gonna yammer all day?” he roared.
“Is that against the law now, too?” Jeremy asked, his smarminess reaching new levels to match his level of discomfort and annoyance.
The guard stepped right before his bars, and slammed then with a club, “Around here what I say goes!”
“We are going to be quiet, sir,” Kazrack said, trying to make peace.
“You’d better be or one of ya is gonna be visiting the hole,” the guard sneered, and marched off.
The group was silent for a few minutes.
“Now, what was that supposed to mean?” Jeremy asked of the runestone reading.
“I think it means that Jana and/or Richard will have to bear the brunt of the consequences for our telling the truth,” Kazrack.
“Probably, just Jana,” Jeremy said.
“Sounds like my luck,” Jana mumbled.
-------------
That evening Ratchis emerged from his hiding spot, and brushed the snow from his furs, shaking off like a bear waking up from a brief hibernation. The moon hung in the night sky like a wafer with a smooth bite taken from it.
Ratchis jogged towards town. He took a broad course southward, and then slipped between the trees on the edge of town, watching and wait in the shadow of a clump of trees. In time he saw the coming and going of the night watch. He could see how one lantern bearing guard came up the central group of streets and then turned southward to complete his circuit, while another came from the north and turned east through the center of town.
They came by about every 45 minutes, and about ten minutes part, meeting about every fourth rotation. When the first guard had passed and the next was 10 minutes away, a cloud passed over the moon and Ratchis took his chance. He hustled between the buildings, slipping from shadow to shadow and crawling beneath window until he reach the back of the inn.
He squatted down again, and looked at the windows of the inn. The fact that a light still shone in one on the upper floor helped him decide which one was Martin’s. He waited until he saw the easterly moving guard go by at the end of his vision and then he climbed up the side of the inn. He tapped on the shutters, and pulled one open just as Martin had stood to stretch his legs after doing so more studying. (He thought he might be close to breaking open the secrets of the Change Self spell. (*)
He was startled as the shutter opened itself and a hand reached in. He stepped back looking over to where his staff leaned on the desk, but then saw Ratchis’ face come into the light, and he hurried to ineffectually help the hulking half-orc through the window.
“Where have you been?” Martin asked.
“Hiding out and wandering around,” Ratchis said, slipping his quiver of javelins from his side. “Waiting for things to cool down before coming back to see what’s going to happen to them.”
“There is going to be a hearing tomorrow to see what will happen and if Jana will be sent off with Rindalith,” Martin explained.
“Okay, so depending on what happens at the hearing we’ll decide if we’ll have to take the extreme option of breaking them out,” Ratchis said.
“Beorth would never go, and Jana said she would not flee Rindalith,” Martin said.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but first we need a sign from you that tells me if they were freed or if the yare being imprisoned,” Ratchis said. “We’ll make it a pillowcase in the shutters, and if that is the case it means they are freed and I will meet you all at, um… those ruins where we fought the manticore. You think you could find that place?”
“Yes, but let’s make it candles in the window instead of the pillowcase. One candle means they were freed and two means they are going to remain in prison,” Martin suggested.
“Sounds good to me,” Ratchis said.
“How would we break them out if it came to that?” Martin asked.
“I have some ideas, but no plan is foolproof and we have several of those to deal with,” Ratchis said wryly.
“I have to sneak back out of town, but it would be easier to get around unseen if I were not so big,” Ratchis said, as Martin squinched up his face in confusion. “Can you make me into a raccoon?”
Martin chuckled. “I am afraid that is beyond my powers, Ratchis.”
“Why does he want to be a raccoon?” Thomas chittered in Martin’s mind. “He should be a squirrel! Maybe he’d be a really strong squirrel.”
“I thought you can create illusions?” Ratchis asked, skeptically.
“Yes, but only ones that can stand alone,” Martin explained. “ Creating illusions that are bound to a person or object is different sort of magic.”
“Anyway, I should get out of here before the guards come back around,” Ratchis said, walking towards the window. “If you see anything untoward happening to me as I leave here I hope I can count on you for a distraction. And remember, one if they’re freed, two if they’re not.”
“Yes, okay.”
Ratchis poked his head out the window for a quick look around and then sprung out catching the lip and lowering himself down. He crept back among the buildings and out to the edge of town, just missing one guard as he dove into the underbrush and snow. He lay still for twenty minutes and then slipped back to his little shelter and went back to sleep until morning.
Martin, having no need for more than two hours of sleep (and actually having not even having the ability to), studied the rest of the night, laying down an hour before dawn, with Thomas curled up on his chest.
--------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(115) DM’s Note: Wizards in Aquerra are not guaranteed spells each level. Instead, players announce spells they are working on (based on notes and theorems) and then may roll a spellcraft check two levels later to gain the spell (modified by the spell’s level and rarity).
Martin spent the afternoon going over his notes and maps, and then he visited the alderman again to make sure he had received the message. He learned that the hearing would be held in the common room of the Golden Plough the next morning.
Meanwhile, back in their cells, Kazrack, Beorth, Jeremy and Jana were trying to figure out the best way to approach any questioning they might receive at the hearing.
“They did not take my runestones from me,” Kazrack said to his imprisoned companions. “They were hidden beneath my shirt. I can use them to seek council from my gods as to what the best course of action may be.”
“Why bother asking your gods when I can tell you that only the truth will set us free?” Beorth said.
Jeremy rolled his eyes, “He is going to tell the truth, but he wants to know how it might be received.”
“Unless you have a better idea of what to ask my gods’ guidance for?” Kazrack said, looking directly across at the paladin.
“Perhaps a better question to as would be what will happen to people if…,” Beorth paused. “I don’t know, Kazrack. I don’t know.”
“Okay. Then throw your stones, Kazrack,” Jeremy said.
The dwarf nodded and sat on the floor, cleared the flagstones of as much dirt and dust as possible. He took the bag of stones from around his neck and hefted their weight in his right hand. It was reassuring. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind of everything, but his question. He could see the dwarven runes that spelled out what he wanted to know glowing in the darkness of his mind’s eye, and then switching the bag to his left hand he let out a low chant, and scattered the stones on the floor.
The question was: With the exception of Jana, will our captors free us upon hearing the truth?
He moved the stones around with a hand and grouped them some, making connections and letting his intuition guide him.
This was his interpretation: “The truth is a weight like a stone, that in this case will be passed on for someone else to bear.
Kazrack was relaying his interpretation of the stones when the door to the area the cells were in burst open, and in marched the guard on duty.
“Are you gonna yammer all day?” he roared.
“Is that against the law now, too?” Jeremy asked, his smarminess reaching new levels to match his level of discomfort and annoyance.
The guard stepped right before his bars, and slammed then with a club, “Around here what I say goes!”
“We are going to be quiet, sir,” Kazrack said, trying to make peace.
“You’d better be or one of ya is gonna be visiting the hole,” the guard sneered, and marched off.
The group was silent for a few minutes.
“Now, what was that supposed to mean?” Jeremy asked of the runestone reading.
“I think it means that Jana and/or Richard will have to bear the brunt of the consequences for our telling the truth,” Kazrack.
“Probably, just Jana,” Jeremy said.
“Sounds like my luck,” Jana mumbled.
-------------
That evening Ratchis emerged from his hiding spot, and brushed the snow from his furs, shaking off like a bear waking up from a brief hibernation. The moon hung in the night sky like a wafer with a smooth bite taken from it.
Ratchis jogged towards town. He took a broad course southward, and then slipped between the trees on the edge of town, watching and wait in the shadow of a clump of trees. In time he saw the coming and going of the night watch. He could see how one lantern bearing guard came up the central group of streets and then turned southward to complete his circuit, while another came from the north and turned east through the center of town.
They came by about every 45 minutes, and about ten minutes part, meeting about every fourth rotation. When the first guard had passed and the next was 10 minutes away, a cloud passed over the moon and Ratchis took his chance. He hustled between the buildings, slipping from shadow to shadow and crawling beneath window until he reach the back of the inn.
He squatted down again, and looked at the windows of the inn. The fact that a light still shone in one on the upper floor helped him decide which one was Martin’s. He waited until he saw the easterly moving guard go by at the end of his vision and then he climbed up the side of the inn. He tapped on the shutters, and pulled one open just as Martin had stood to stretch his legs after doing so more studying. (He thought he might be close to breaking open the secrets of the Change Self spell. (*)
He was startled as the shutter opened itself and a hand reached in. He stepped back looking over to where his staff leaned on the desk, but then saw Ratchis’ face come into the light, and he hurried to ineffectually help the hulking half-orc through the window.
“Where have you been?” Martin asked.
“Hiding out and wandering around,” Ratchis said, slipping his quiver of javelins from his side. “Waiting for things to cool down before coming back to see what’s going to happen to them.”
“There is going to be a hearing tomorrow to see what will happen and if Jana will be sent off with Rindalith,” Martin explained.
“Okay, so depending on what happens at the hearing we’ll decide if we’ll have to take the extreme option of breaking them out,” Ratchis said.
“Beorth would never go, and Jana said she would not flee Rindalith,” Martin said.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but first we need a sign from you that tells me if they were freed or if the yare being imprisoned,” Ratchis said. “We’ll make it a pillowcase in the shutters, and if that is the case it means they are freed and I will meet you all at, um… those ruins where we fought the manticore. You think you could find that place?”
“Yes, but let’s make it candles in the window instead of the pillowcase. One candle means they were freed and two means they are going to remain in prison,” Martin suggested.
“Sounds good to me,” Ratchis said.
“How would we break them out if it came to that?” Martin asked.
“I have some ideas, but no plan is foolproof and we have several of those to deal with,” Ratchis said wryly.
“I have to sneak back out of town, but it would be easier to get around unseen if I were not so big,” Ratchis said, as Martin squinched up his face in confusion. “Can you make me into a raccoon?”
Martin chuckled. “I am afraid that is beyond my powers, Ratchis.”
“Why does he want to be a raccoon?” Thomas chittered in Martin’s mind. “He should be a squirrel! Maybe he’d be a really strong squirrel.”
“I thought you can create illusions?” Ratchis asked, skeptically.
“Yes, but only ones that can stand alone,” Martin explained. “ Creating illusions that are bound to a person or object is different sort of magic.”
“Anyway, I should get out of here before the guards come back around,” Ratchis said, walking towards the window. “If you see anything untoward happening to me as I leave here I hope I can count on you for a distraction. And remember, one if they’re freed, two if they’re not.”
“Yes, okay.”
Ratchis poked his head out the window for a quick look around and then sprung out catching the lip and lowering himself down. He crept back among the buildings and out to the edge of town, just missing one guard as he dove into the underbrush and snow. He lay still for twenty minutes and then slipped back to his little shelter and went back to sleep until morning.
Martin, having no need for more than two hours of sleep (and actually having not even having the ability to), studied the rest of the night, laying down an hour before dawn, with Thomas curled up on his chest.
--------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(115) DM’s Note: Wizards in Aquerra are not guaranteed spells each level. Instead, players announce spells they are working on (based on notes and theorems) and then may roll a spellcraft check two levels later to gain the spell (modified by the spell’s level and rarity).
Last edited:
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Session # 28 (part V)
Tholem, 11th of Dek – 564 H.E.
The next morning Martin came down to the common room to find one of Wilson’s servant boys arranging chairs after having moved most of the tables to one side. There was one long table set up near the far wall across from then entrance with a chair behind it and another beside it facing the rows of chairs.
Soon, people began to file in. Martin recognized several regulars enter and take seats near the back rows of chairs, followed by two guards who took up positions near the door. Someone came in for breakfast, but Wilson shooed him away. Martin sat by the bar, watching everyone as they came in. A tall gaunt pale man in his forties with long black hair, and a black hairy mole on his face came downstairs from the rooms above. The guards at the door waved to him with a smile, and he smiled and waved back and took a seat in the second row of seats.
“Who is that dark fellow over there?” Martin the Green asked Wilson, cocking his head towards the man who had just entered the room.
“Oh that?” Wilson said. “He is that was looking for your friend.”
“Who?” Martin was momentarily confused. “Oh…” It was Rindalith.
Meanwhile. Beorth, Jana, Jeremy and Kazrack were manacled by their wrists and by their ankles (with a chain long enough to allow for steps at a medium stride) and escorted by four guards and the constable over to the inn’s common room for the hearing.
Despite how much she had tried to steal herself for seeing him again, Jana blanched when Rindalith turned to see them enter the inn. The gaunt man smiled gently and tucked his hair behind one ear, as she had seen him do a thousand times.
The guards sat the prisoners in the front row, on the left of the aisle that ran down the middle of the chairs. The constable looked down at them.
“I have faith you will remember how to behave properly when being addressed by an alderman?” he asked, scowling.
“Have no fear, Captain,” Beorth said. “We shall go through these proceedings with nothing but respect for the law and authority.”
Kazrack nodded, and then noticed the tall pale man walk over.
“Good day, Captain,” Rindalith greeted, his voice was tenor droll that resonated from the back of his throat, and long adam-appled neck. “I was hoping it might be possible to speak with my would-be prisoner in private?”
Rindalith cocked an eyebrow.
“Well, I think that could be arranged,” the constable said, without showing a hint of emotion.
“Your prisoner is in danger!” Kazrack cried.
“Shut up, ya grubber!” the constable said, and two of the guards hurried over and pushed the struggling dwarf back.
Kazrack stopped moving. “Okay.”
“Get her up and bring her to the kitchen,” the constable said to one of his men, pointing to Jana.
One of the guards (named Relaford) pulled her up to her feet and gently led her towards the kitchen. “Wilson, need the kitchen for a moment,” he said, and the innkeeper nodded and gestured for him to go right in.
Relaford led Jan into the kitchen and Rindalith followed, picking at his cuticles as he walked. The large sleeves of his billowing black robe slipped back to reveal his long white fingers, and the many small burns and scars on hands and wrists.
Relaford turned and addressed Rindalith. “Here ya go,” he said, going back out into the common area. “I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.”
“I’m sure Jana has no intention of trying anything stupid. Don’t you, Jana?” He looked her directly in the eye for the first time, and she felt a queasiness in her stomach.
“No,” she replied quietly.
When Kazrack saw the guard come back out of the kitchen, he cried out, “Your prisoner is in danger! You can’t leave her alone with him!”
“I said, ‘shut up!’” the constable roared.
Martin looked to Kazrack and cocked his head toward the outer door, and made a face that was supposed to mean, ‘I’ll check it out.”
Amazingly, the dwarf understood and was quiet once again. Martin hurried our of the inn, and went around the corner, hoping to find a window.
In the kitchen, Rindalith just looked down at Jana with unblinking black eyes. He was silent for a long moment. Jana felt as if she could hardly breathe.
“Oh my sweetness,” Rindalith suddenly said, his voice purring like a golden cat made of honey. “You know it pains me so to see you like this. Why did we have to come half a world for this?”
Jana felt her confidence return when she heard his voice again. It was if the months of not hearing it had made it lose it polish, or had given her the chance to hear the echo of its falseness.
‘So, what do you intend to do about this,” she said, shifting her weight to one hip and looking him righ back in the eye. She clucked her tongue while she waited for his response.
“You know, if you had a problem with Sonya you could have told me. You should have told me!” he said, brushing her hair back from her face to see it more clearly. He brushed her cheek.
Jana was silent.
“I did not want to have to involve the local authorities, but after I lost your trail for over a month it became the only option,” Rindalith said. “I had to leave behind some plans I had, some great plans that I planned to share with you, but alas, it is too late for those particular plans. However, thankfully, serendipitously, there are things in this place that make it all worthwhile.”
He paused.
Outside, Martin found the shuttered window and the side door, but he could not see what was going on inside. He kneeled by the door and tried to listen, but they spoke in low voices. He could only make out the murmur of their talking.
“Thomas? Could you slip under the door and tell me what you see?” Martin asked his familiar, who was tucked into the hood of the watch-mage’s cloak.
“A lot of smells in there,” Thomas replied.
“Yes, food,” said Martin. “Maybe you’ll find some nutbread in there.”
“I’m not hungry,” said Thomas.
“Are you okay?” Martin asked astounded. He had never known his familiar to ever turn down food.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” the squirrel replied sadly.
“What will you do if you don’t eat?” Martin asked.
“I don’t know, but I haven’t been very sleepy lately either,” Thomas replied. “Just kind of bored. I’ll go under.”
“Try to not be seen, Martin cautioned.
“As if you have to tell me that,” Thomas chided.
Thomas crawled under the door and scurried over behind the large chopping block.
“He doesn’t seem to be hurting her, just talking,” Thomas said. “I think he likes her a lot. He seems to be nice to her.”
Rindalith continued to talk to Jana.
“I thought you were more grown-up than you acted in regards to this whole thing,” Rindalith said. “What was it jealousy? She was never anything like you. And afterward, did you have the nerve to confront me with what you had done? As I had always taught you to do? No, you had to go and run away like a little girl. You are not on the streets anymore Jana. You can’t just run and hide from everything.”
Jana shifter her weight to the other leg.
“I thought you’d be angry,” Jana said.
“Oh, and I was angry,” Rindalith replied with a smile. “Angry that you did not trust me to understand. I want to let you know, Jana, that I have no intention of bringing you back to Westron. This is just a ruse so I could find you. And I know you might fear for your own safety, but I would never hurt you. I care about you too much for that.”
He stroked her hair, lovingly.
“So what happens next?” Jana asked, suspiciously. “You tell these people that all is forgiven and we walk off into the sunset? I don’t believe that crock of
.”
“Oh my sweetness,” Rindalith said, his smile broadening. “You can believe me when I say I am not angry that Sonya is dead. And to prove it I will tell you this much. I was planning on killing Sonya myself.”
Jana closed her mouth, as it had dropped open of its own accord.
At that moment Relaford poked his head into the kitchen and said, “Constable says times up.” Rindalith stroked Jana’s check once and again and then marched out. Relaford pulled Jana back into the common room.
Martin returned to the common room as well, but they waited impatiently before the Alderman finally arrived. As he entered Margun, the shop-keeper stood from his seat in the front row and asked everyone to rise. The prisoners were pulled to their feet.
After the alderman sat behind the table, Margun came before the gathered people and spoke, “I would like to thank the alderman for appointing me to his bureau of courts, even though I … am the whole thing.”
He smiled awkwardly.
“We are hear to hear evidence against Jeremy Brighthelm, Kazrack Delver and Beorth Sakhemet who stand accused of helping one Jana of Westron escape from her fair and lawful incarceration while waiting on the alderman’s dispensation in terms of her extradition to the Kingdom of Herman Land for crimes she is wanted for in that fine sovereign nation from which our fore-fathers sprang.”
He paused meaningfully and turned to the alderman who nodded.
“I will call the first witness,” Margun said. The hearing began. One after another Margun called up witnesses starting with the barmaid, who said she saw the party slip out the back door soon after the sun had finished setting, and then Wilson who testified that Ratchis had specifically asked him about a back way out several days before.
Then the constable was called to sit in the chair beside the alderman’s table. He explained how he had gone in to put out the lights in the cell area and that the prisoner was gone. He also explained how this was not too long after Martin the Green and Beorth Sakhemet coming to inquire about her, the former having an audience with Jana.
“Also, the fact that they were all traveling with a half-breed orc of great violence and strength shows the kind of people these really are, with no respect for decency or the law,” he said with some vehemence. “It was this half-breed scum of the earth that assaulted my officers and escaped.”
Martin, who had passed on chances to question the previous witnesses stood to ask the constable some questions when Margun was done.
“Sir, did you actually see Beorth, Kazrack or Jeremy break Jana of Westron free?” Martin asked the witness.
“No, I did not,” he replied.
“And was there any sign of a forced entry? Did any of your guardsmen see the accused trying to free her?” Martin asked.
“No, but they have been know to travel with one who can use magic by trade,” the constable shot an evil eye at Martin and cocked an eyebrow.
“Baseless accusations and wild theories do not evidence make,” Martin snapped.
“Martin the Green, that is not a question,” the alderman said, speaking for the first time. “Please limit your comments to questions now, you get a chance to make a speech later if you so wish.”
“Are there any more questions for the constable?” Margun asked Martin, looking and sound apologetic.
“Not at this time,” Martin replied.
“If not at this time, then not at any,” the alderman said, angrily. “I will not be made to sit here all day while you waste the court’s time.”
“You have to do a better job than that,” Jeremy hissed to Martin. “You may not be in prison, but some of us are!”
“Shut up!” one of the guards said, cuffing Jeremy.
“If one of the accused speaks again without being addressed I want them removed from the court,” the alderman ordered.
“And taken to the hole,” the constable added.
Margun cleared his throat, “The next witness called is Rindalith of Westron, agent of the Courts of Westron in the Kingdom of Herman Land.”
Rindalith stood. He was the tallest one present and his long thin legs seemed to cross the distance to the chair in two smooth strides. He sat and looked at Jana the whole time he spoke.
“Mr. Rindalith, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you Ra?” Margun asked.
“Yes, and all the other gods,” the words rolled off the warlock’s tongue.
“Can you tell us in your own words the charges against Jana of Westron and why you have been sent to find her?”
“Of course,” Rindalith said. He smoothed his robes with his ivory hands and began to tell the tale. “In what looks to have been a love triangle gone wrong involving the daughter of influential judge in Westron, an older gentleman of some means and the accused, Jana of Westron stands accused of killing the young girl and trying to pin the crime on the object of her scorned affections. She had what we might call ‘an unhealthy obsession’ with the older man. Now, it is true that this man behaved inappropriately as the whole affair was without the father’s permission, but regardless, this girl’s murder cannot go unpunished. I only see to bring back the accused for fair trial for her allege crimes before the magistrate of Westron, and relations between Gothanius and the Kingdom of Herman Land will doubtlessly improve with the setting of this precedent of extradition between our two fine kingdoms.”
“I assume you have the proper documents that prove you are who you claim to be?” Martin asked, grasping at straws.
“Why yes, of course,” Rindalith never took his eyes from Jana. “These papers have already been presented to the constable and filed with the alderman.”
Um…” Martin was hoping to stretch things out until he could think of questioning strategy that might work, but his mind drew a blank.
“Well, if that is all I believe we can leave the alderman to make his decision,” Margun said, gesturing for Rindalith to take his seat in the audience again.
“Wait!” Kazrack cried. “Don’t we get to speak in our own defense?!”
“Didn’t we tell you to shut up?!” the constable growled. He motioned to two guards who yanked the now struggling Kazrack by his manacles and dragged him out of the inn. “Let’s see if spending a night in the hole might teach that dwarf some manners.”
“I will now take an hour recess to determine what shall happen to those who stand accused,” the alderman said, standing.
“All rise,’ Margun cried, and everyone obeyed. The alderman left the inn.
Wilson and his barmaids immediately hurried to put out trays of pastries and pitches of dark ale.
-----------
It was a long hour.
However, eventually the alderman returned accompanied by a mop-headed brown haired man who appeared to be in his thirties.
“I have given this case a lot of thought and have decided two things,” the alderman said. “Firstly, that however, much I personally would like to improve relations between our own fine nation and that of Herman Land, the setting of such a precedent as extradition should be left in the hands of the King himself. In addition, these other three who stand accused are only in Gothanius at the general call and request of the King in these dark times. So, I will leave their fate as well in the hands of the Crown.”
The alderman paused and then gestured to the man he returned with. “This is William Turnkey. He is one of the king’s marshals, a position created by the king to help keep continuity of law in this kingdom and to bring criminals to the dungeons in Twelve Trolls. I will leave it to him to arrange travel for the accused from here to Twelve Trolls in two days hence. Mr. Rindalith and Martin the Green may also accompany him to the capitol to make their case before the king.”
Rindalith’s face showed no sign of emotion, but Martin breathed a sigh of relief. He preferred his chances with the king than with the arrogant leaders of these alder-villages.
“All rise!” Margun cried, and the audience obeyed. The alderman left and people began to file out as Wilson and his servants returned the chairs and tables to their original positions. The guards led out Jana, Beorth and Jeremy, followed by the constable who was speaking with William Turnkey, and then by Rindalith himself.
Martin returned to his room and wrapped his arms around himself until the shaking stopped. He sat and wrote in his journal, “I will never be a lawyer, but better a delayed outcome than a bad one.”
-------------------
Back at the guard house, Kazrack had been lowered into a hole in a back room. The dank dirt cellar was only five feet high, but this did not bother the dwarf who could still stand up straight and not hit his head. No, what bothered him was the smell of human sweat and urine and the dirt-encrusted feces in the corners of the hole.
Covering his nose and mouth with his beard, Kazrack clawed at the dirt walls and floor trying to cover up the excrement and the smell with fresher dirt from below the surface. Eventually, getting very desperate he shoved clods of dirt into his nose and mouth – preferring the smell of soil and stone to the nastiness that surrounded him. He then lay prone and spent his time praying to his gods.
--------------------
The other three prisoners were returned to the constables office, but only Beorth and Jeremy were put in their cells. Jana was brought to an audience room where Rindalith was waiting.
“You have fifteen minutes, sir,” the guard said to the warlock and then left the two of them alone.
Rindalith sat at one side of a small table and looked up at his former student.
“I had been hoping I would be allowed to take you from this place directly,” Rindalith said. “I am sure you are chaffing against imprisonment, but I should have known that such a small time politician as Silvestri would simply pass the buck.”
“So what now?” Jana asked. “We go before the King, and…”
“Go before the King?” Rindalith let out the breathy wheeze that passed for his laughter. “My dear sweet thing, absolutely not. Passing false credentials to some local yokels is one thing, but even a backwater king might have means at his disposal to determine a fraud. No, I had a brief, yet concerned discussion with the constable about security for the journey to the capitol. He assured he me he will be sending up to six, but no less than four, guards to escort us in addition to this Turnkey fellow. They should pose no problem with one with talents such as ours.”
“And my friends?” Jana asked.
“What about them?” Rindalith looked confused for a second. “Depending on how it goes…” He paused again. “Do you really care what happens to them? Since when have you really had any friends, unless you define ‘friend’ as people you’ll manipulate into doing what you want…”
Jana was silent.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Rindalith said, leaning down behind her to place his pointed chin on her shoulder and peck a kiss on her cheek. She froze. “Soon you’ll be free and we can do what ever you want.”
Jana shuddered.
“Well, I should go. Even this dim-witted constable might get suspicious if I tarry too long here with suc ha lovely young girl,” Rindalith came back around and winked.
Jana was returned to her cell.
Beorth came forward, leaning on the bars when the guards had left them alone.
“So, what happened with Rindalith?” the paladin asked.
Jana leaned forward, squeezing her face between the bars where they were close to Beorth’s cell, as to not be overheard by the guards.
“I guess I misread the situation completely,” she said. “He doesn’t want to kill me, that’s for sure. He has other uses for me.”
“So, if you make it to Twelve Trolls you will be able to get free of him?” Beorth asked. “Perhaps tell the King he is not who he says he is?”
“He plans to spring me before that,” Jana said, the slang of the streets of Westron coming back to her readily.
“But if you escape you’ll be fugitives, and if we escape with you so will we be and we won’t be able to enter any towns for fear of arrest and it will greatly hinder our progress,” Beorth said, stating the matter flatly. “Or do you plan to leave with him?”
“In any case, leaving or not leaving is a moot point if we can’t do what we need to do for Osiris,” Jana snapped. “We can only wait and see what happens when it happens. It is outside of our control. At least I am not in any personal danger from Rindalith. However, his ideas on what our relationship is supposed to border on… how did he call it? ‘unhealthy obsession’. The bastard!”
-----------
Back at the inn there was a knocking at the door to Martin’s room. Not getting up from where he had his head laying on his folded arms at the desk, Martin called, “Come in.”
The door opened and in walked William Turnkey, the king’s marshal.
“Hello Mr. The Green, I have come to discuss with you the logistics of the journey to Twelve Trolls.”
Martin turned his head to look at the man with farmer’s tan and the grizzled skin of recently trimmed beard.
“Good to see you again, Richard,” Martin said, by way of greeting and then buried his face back in his arms for a moment before sitting up straight again.
“Ah!” William Turnkey said, as his features slowly melted away into those of Richard the Red and his clothing shifting and billowed in red robes. “A keen eye. It is a useful tool.”
Tholem, 11th of Dek – 564 H.E.
The next morning Martin came down to the common room to find one of Wilson’s servant boys arranging chairs after having moved most of the tables to one side. There was one long table set up near the far wall across from then entrance with a chair behind it and another beside it facing the rows of chairs.
Soon, people began to file in. Martin recognized several regulars enter and take seats near the back rows of chairs, followed by two guards who took up positions near the door. Someone came in for breakfast, but Wilson shooed him away. Martin sat by the bar, watching everyone as they came in. A tall gaunt pale man in his forties with long black hair, and a black hairy mole on his face came downstairs from the rooms above. The guards at the door waved to him with a smile, and he smiled and waved back and took a seat in the second row of seats.
“Who is that dark fellow over there?” Martin the Green asked Wilson, cocking his head towards the man who had just entered the room.
“Oh that?” Wilson said. “He is that was looking for your friend.”
“Who?” Martin was momentarily confused. “Oh…” It was Rindalith.
Meanwhile. Beorth, Jana, Jeremy and Kazrack were manacled by their wrists and by their ankles (with a chain long enough to allow for steps at a medium stride) and escorted by four guards and the constable over to the inn’s common room for the hearing.
Despite how much she had tried to steal herself for seeing him again, Jana blanched when Rindalith turned to see them enter the inn. The gaunt man smiled gently and tucked his hair behind one ear, as she had seen him do a thousand times.
The guards sat the prisoners in the front row, on the left of the aisle that ran down the middle of the chairs. The constable looked down at them.
“I have faith you will remember how to behave properly when being addressed by an alderman?” he asked, scowling.
“Have no fear, Captain,” Beorth said. “We shall go through these proceedings with nothing but respect for the law and authority.”
Kazrack nodded, and then noticed the tall pale man walk over.
“Good day, Captain,” Rindalith greeted, his voice was tenor droll that resonated from the back of his throat, and long adam-appled neck. “I was hoping it might be possible to speak with my would-be prisoner in private?”
Rindalith cocked an eyebrow.
“Well, I think that could be arranged,” the constable said, without showing a hint of emotion.
“Your prisoner is in danger!” Kazrack cried.
“Shut up, ya grubber!” the constable said, and two of the guards hurried over and pushed the struggling dwarf back.
Kazrack stopped moving. “Okay.”
“Get her up and bring her to the kitchen,” the constable said to one of his men, pointing to Jana.
One of the guards (named Relaford) pulled her up to her feet and gently led her towards the kitchen. “Wilson, need the kitchen for a moment,” he said, and the innkeeper nodded and gestured for him to go right in.
Relaford led Jan into the kitchen and Rindalith followed, picking at his cuticles as he walked. The large sleeves of his billowing black robe slipped back to reveal his long white fingers, and the many small burns and scars on hands and wrists.
Relaford turned and addressed Rindalith. “Here ya go,” he said, going back out into the common area. “I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.”
“I’m sure Jana has no intention of trying anything stupid. Don’t you, Jana?” He looked her directly in the eye for the first time, and she felt a queasiness in her stomach.
“No,” she replied quietly.
When Kazrack saw the guard come back out of the kitchen, he cried out, “Your prisoner is in danger! You can’t leave her alone with him!”
“I said, ‘shut up!’” the constable roared.
Martin looked to Kazrack and cocked his head toward the outer door, and made a face that was supposed to mean, ‘I’ll check it out.”
Amazingly, the dwarf understood and was quiet once again. Martin hurried our of the inn, and went around the corner, hoping to find a window.
In the kitchen, Rindalith just looked down at Jana with unblinking black eyes. He was silent for a long moment. Jana felt as if she could hardly breathe.
“Oh my sweetness,” Rindalith suddenly said, his voice purring like a golden cat made of honey. “You know it pains me so to see you like this. Why did we have to come half a world for this?”
Jana felt her confidence return when she heard his voice again. It was if the months of not hearing it had made it lose it polish, or had given her the chance to hear the echo of its falseness.
‘So, what do you intend to do about this,” she said, shifting her weight to one hip and looking him righ back in the eye. She clucked her tongue while she waited for his response.
“You know, if you had a problem with Sonya you could have told me. You should have told me!” he said, brushing her hair back from her face to see it more clearly. He brushed her cheek.
Jana was silent.
“I did not want to have to involve the local authorities, but after I lost your trail for over a month it became the only option,” Rindalith said. “I had to leave behind some plans I had, some great plans that I planned to share with you, but alas, it is too late for those particular plans. However, thankfully, serendipitously, there are things in this place that make it all worthwhile.”
He paused.
Outside, Martin found the shuttered window and the side door, but he could not see what was going on inside. He kneeled by the door and tried to listen, but they spoke in low voices. He could only make out the murmur of their talking.
“Thomas? Could you slip under the door and tell me what you see?” Martin asked his familiar, who was tucked into the hood of the watch-mage’s cloak.
“A lot of smells in there,” Thomas replied.
“Yes, food,” said Martin. “Maybe you’ll find some nutbread in there.”
“I’m not hungry,” said Thomas.
“Are you okay?” Martin asked astounded. He had never known his familiar to ever turn down food.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” the squirrel replied sadly.
“What will you do if you don’t eat?” Martin asked.
“I don’t know, but I haven’t been very sleepy lately either,” Thomas replied. “Just kind of bored. I’ll go under.”
“Try to not be seen, Martin cautioned.
“As if you have to tell me that,” Thomas chided.
Thomas crawled under the door and scurried over behind the large chopping block.
“He doesn’t seem to be hurting her, just talking,” Thomas said. “I think he likes her a lot. He seems to be nice to her.”
Rindalith continued to talk to Jana.
“I thought you were more grown-up than you acted in regards to this whole thing,” Rindalith said. “What was it jealousy? She was never anything like you. And afterward, did you have the nerve to confront me with what you had done? As I had always taught you to do? No, you had to go and run away like a little girl. You are not on the streets anymore Jana. You can’t just run and hide from everything.”
Jana shifter her weight to the other leg.
“I thought you’d be angry,” Jana said.
“Oh, and I was angry,” Rindalith replied with a smile. “Angry that you did not trust me to understand. I want to let you know, Jana, that I have no intention of bringing you back to Westron. This is just a ruse so I could find you. And I know you might fear for your own safety, but I would never hurt you. I care about you too much for that.”
He stroked her hair, lovingly.
“So what happens next?” Jana asked, suspiciously. “You tell these people that all is forgiven and we walk off into the sunset? I don’t believe that crock of
.”“Oh my sweetness,” Rindalith said, his smile broadening. “You can believe me when I say I am not angry that Sonya is dead. And to prove it I will tell you this much. I was planning on killing Sonya myself.”
Jana closed her mouth, as it had dropped open of its own accord.
At that moment Relaford poked his head into the kitchen and said, “Constable says times up.” Rindalith stroked Jana’s check once and again and then marched out. Relaford pulled Jana back into the common room.
Martin returned to the common room as well, but they waited impatiently before the Alderman finally arrived. As he entered Margun, the shop-keeper stood from his seat in the front row and asked everyone to rise. The prisoners were pulled to their feet.
After the alderman sat behind the table, Margun came before the gathered people and spoke, “I would like to thank the alderman for appointing me to his bureau of courts, even though I … am the whole thing.”
He smiled awkwardly.
“We are hear to hear evidence against Jeremy Brighthelm, Kazrack Delver and Beorth Sakhemet who stand accused of helping one Jana of Westron escape from her fair and lawful incarceration while waiting on the alderman’s dispensation in terms of her extradition to the Kingdom of Herman Land for crimes she is wanted for in that fine sovereign nation from which our fore-fathers sprang.”
He paused meaningfully and turned to the alderman who nodded.
“I will call the first witness,” Margun said. The hearing began. One after another Margun called up witnesses starting with the barmaid, who said she saw the party slip out the back door soon after the sun had finished setting, and then Wilson who testified that Ratchis had specifically asked him about a back way out several days before.
Then the constable was called to sit in the chair beside the alderman’s table. He explained how he had gone in to put out the lights in the cell area and that the prisoner was gone. He also explained how this was not too long after Martin the Green and Beorth Sakhemet coming to inquire about her, the former having an audience with Jana.
“Also, the fact that they were all traveling with a half-breed orc of great violence and strength shows the kind of people these really are, with no respect for decency or the law,” he said with some vehemence. “It was this half-breed scum of the earth that assaulted my officers and escaped.”
Martin, who had passed on chances to question the previous witnesses stood to ask the constable some questions when Margun was done.
“Sir, did you actually see Beorth, Kazrack or Jeremy break Jana of Westron free?” Martin asked the witness.
“No, I did not,” he replied.
“And was there any sign of a forced entry? Did any of your guardsmen see the accused trying to free her?” Martin asked.
“No, but they have been know to travel with one who can use magic by trade,” the constable shot an evil eye at Martin and cocked an eyebrow.
“Baseless accusations and wild theories do not evidence make,” Martin snapped.
“Martin the Green, that is not a question,” the alderman said, speaking for the first time. “Please limit your comments to questions now, you get a chance to make a speech later if you so wish.”
“Are there any more questions for the constable?” Margun asked Martin, looking and sound apologetic.
“Not at this time,” Martin replied.
“If not at this time, then not at any,” the alderman said, angrily. “I will not be made to sit here all day while you waste the court’s time.”
“You have to do a better job than that,” Jeremy hissed to Martin. “You may not be in prison, but some of us are!”
“Shut up!” one of the guards said, cuffing Jeremy.
“If one of the accused speaks again without being addressed I want them removed from the court,” the alderman ordered.
“And taken to the hole,” the constable added.
Margun cleared his throat, “The next witness called is Rindalith of Westron, agent of the Courts of Westron in the Kingdom of Herman Land.”
Rindalith stood. He was the tallest one present and his long thin legs seemed to cross the distance to the chair in two smooth strides. He sat and looked at Jana the whole time he spoke.
“Mr. Rindalith, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you Ra?” Margun asked.
“Yes, and all the other gods,” the words rolled off the warlock’s tongue.
“Can you tell us in your own words the charges against Jana of Westron and why you have been sent to find her?”
“Of course,” Rindalith said. He smoothed his robes with his ivory hands and began to tell the tale. “In what looks to have been a love triangle gone wrong involving the daughter of influential judge in Westron, an older gentleman of some means and the accused, Jana of Westron stands accused of killing the young girl and trying to pin the crime on the object of her scorned affections. She had what we might call ‘an unhealthy obsession’ with the older man. Now, it is true that this man behaved inappropriately as the whole affair was without the father’s permission, but regardless, this girl’s murder cannot go unpunished. I only see to bring back the accused for fair trial for her allege crimes before the magistrate of Westron, and relations between Gothanius and the Kingdom of Herman Land will doubtlessly improve with the setting of this precedent of extradition between our two fine kingdoms.”
“I assume you have the proper documents that prove you are who you claim to be?” Martin asked, grasping at straws.
“Why yes, of course,” Rindalith never took his eyes from Jana. “These papers have already been presented to the constable and filed with the alderman.”
Um…” Martin was hoping to stretch things out until he could think of questioning strategy that might work, but his mind drew a blank.
“Well, if that is all I believe we can leave the alderman to make his decision,” Margun said, gesturing for Rindalith to take his seat in the audience again.
“Wait!” Kazrack cried. “Don’t we get to speak in our own defense?!”
“Didn’t we tell you to shut up?!” the constable growled. He motioned to two guards who yanked the now struggling Kazrack by his manacles and dragged him out of the inn. “Let’s see if spending a night in the hole might teach that dwarf some manners.”
“I will now take an hour recess to determine what shall happen to those who stand accused,” the alderman said, standing.
“All rise,’ Margun cried, and everyone obeyed. The alderman left the inn.
Wilson and his barmaids immediately hurried to put out trays of pastries and pitches of dark ale.
-----------
It was a long hour.
However, eventually the alderman returned accompanied by a mop-headed brown haired man who appeared to be in his thirties.
“I have given this case a lot of thought and have decided two things,” the alderman said. “Firstly, that however, much I personally would like to improve relations between our own fine nation and that of Herman Land, the setting of such a precedent as extradition should be left in the hands of the King himself. In addition, these other three who stand accused are only in Gothanius at the general call and request of the King in these dark times. So, I will leave their fate as well in the hands of the Crown.”
The alderman paused and then gestured to the man he returned with. “This is William Turnkey. He is one of the king’s marshals, a position created by the king to help keep continuity of law in this kingdom and to bring criminals to the dungeons in Twelve Trolls. I will leave it to him to arrange travel for the accused from here to Twelve Trolls in two days hence. Mr. Rindalith and Martin the Green may also accompany him to the capitol to make their case before the king.”
Rindalith’s face showed no sign of emotion, but Martin breathed a sigh of relief. He preferred his chances with the king than with the arrogant leaders of these alder-villages.
“All rise!” Margun cried, and the audience obeyed. The alderman left and people began to file out as Wilson and his servants returned the chairs and tables to their original positions. The guards led out Jana, Beorth and Jeremy, followed by the constable who was speaking with William Turnkey, and then by Rindalith himself.
Martin returned to his room and wrapped his arms around himself until the shaking stopped. He sat and wrote in his journal, “I will never be a lawyer, but better a delayed outcome than a bad one.”
-------------------
Back at the guard house, Kazrack had been lowered into a hole in a back room. The dank dirt cellar was only five feet high, but this did not bother the dwarf who could still stand up straight and not hit his head. No, what bothered him was the smell of human sweat and urine and the dirt-encrusted feces in the corners of the hole.
Covering his nose and mouth with his beard, Kazrack clawed at the dirt walls and floor trying to cover up the excrement and the smell with fresher dirt from below the surface. Eventually, getting very desperate he shoved clods of dirt into his nose and mouth – preferring the smell of soil and stone to the nastiness that surrounded him. He then lay prone and spent his time praying to his gods.
--------------------
The other three prisoners were returned to the constables office, but only Beorth and Jeremy were put in their cells. Jana was brought to an audience room where Rindalith was waiting.
“You have fifteen minutes, sir,” the guard said to the warlock and then left the two of them alone.
Rindalith sat at one side of a small table and looked up at his former student.
“I had been hoping I would be allowed to take you from this place directly,” Rindalith said. “I am sure you are chaffing against imprisonment, but I should have known that such a small time politician as Silvestri would simply pass the buck.”
“So what now?” Jana asked. “We go before the King, and…”
“Go before the King?” Rindalith let out the breathy wheeze that passed for his laughter. “My dear sweet thing, absolutely not. Passing false credentials to some local yokels is one thing, but even a backwater king might have means at his disposal to determine a fraud. No, I had a brief, yet concerned discussion with the constable about security for the journey to the capitol. He assured he me he will be sending up to six, but no less than four, guards to escort us in addition to this Turnkey fellow. They should pose no problem with one with talents such as ours.”
“And my friends?” Jana asked.
“What about them?” Rindalith looked confused for a second. “Depending on how it goes…” He paused again. “Do you really care what happens to them? Since when have you really had any friends, unless you define ‘friend’ as people you’ll manipulate into doing what you want…”
Jana was silent.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Rindalith said, leaning down behind her to place his pointed chin on her shoulder and peck a kiss on her cheek. She froze. “Soon you’ll be free and we can do what ever you want.”
Jana shuddered.
“Well, I should go. Even this dim-witted constable might get suspicious if I tarry too long here with suc ha lovely young girl,” Rindalith came back around and winked.
Jana was returned to her cell.
Beorth came forward, leaning on the bars when the guards had left them alone.
“So, what happened with Rindalith?” the paladin asked.
Jana leaned forward, squeezing her face between the bars where they were close to Beorth’s cell, as to not be overheard by the guards.
“I guess I misread the situation completely,” she said. “He doesn’t want to kill me, that’s for sure. He has other uses for me.”
“So, if you make it to Twelve Trolls you will be able to get free of him?” Beorth asked. “Perhaps tell the King he is not who he says he is?”
“He plans to spring me before that,” Jana said, the slang of the streets of Westron coming back to her readily.
“But if you escape you’ll be fugitives, and if we escape with you so will we be and we won’t be able to enter any towns for fear of arrest and it will greatly hinder our progress,” Beorth said, stating the matter flatly. “Or do you plan to leave with him?”
“In any case, leaving or not leaving is a moot point if we can’t do what we need to do for Osiris,” Jana snapped. “We can only wait and see what happens when it happens. It is outside of our control. At least I am not in any personal danger from Rindalith. However, his ideas on what our relationship is supposed to border on… how did he call it? ‘unhealthy obsession’. The bastard!”
-----------
Back at the inn there was a knocking at the door to Martin’s room. Not getting up from where he had his head laying on his folded arms at the desk, Martin called, “Come in.”
The door opened and in walked William Turnkey, the king’s marshal.
“Hello Mr. The Green, I have come to discuss with you the logistics of the journey to Twelve Trolls.”
Martin turned his head to look at the man with farmer’s tan and the grizzled skin of recently trimmed beard.
“Good to see you again, Richard,” Martin said, by way of greeting and then buried his face back in his arms for a moment before sitting up straight again.
“Ah!” William Turnkey said, as his features slowly melted away into those of Richard the Red and his clothing shifting and billowed in red robes. “A keen eye. It is a useful tool.”
Similar Threads
