Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Tales of the Legacy - Concluded
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Delemental" data-source="post: 2798358" data-attributes="member: 5203"><p><strong>Let the Punishment Fit the Crime</strong></p><p></p><p>A double update for you today, just in time for Christmas! <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite8" alt=":D" title="Big grin :D" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":D" /> </p><p></p><p>First, we have "Let the Punishment Fit the Crime", a short bit of fiction I wrote on behalf of Razael to explain how he came to be a part of our merry band.</p><p></p><p>The next post will be the continuation of the regular campaign, with the adventure "Final Answer".</p><p></p><p>-------------------------</p><p></p><p> “Enter,” Herion said, at the knock on his door.</p><p></p><p> Razael Fletcher came in and stood before Herion’s desk, quiet and impassive. As usual, he was dressed in his forest garb, which was covered with a healthy layer of dirt. Bits of dry moss flaked off and fell onto the thick rugs on the floor.</p><p></p><p> “Huntsman Fletcher, do you know why I’ve called you in here?”</p><p></p><p> The old elf paused, and the corner of his mouth twitched with what was almost a smile. “I’m sure I don’t, Your Highness,” he replied.</p><p></p><p> <em>He’s clever enough not to incriminate himself, at least</em>. “I’ve just spoken with Marquis Arovnen of Malachor. Would you like to know what we discussed?”</p><p></p><p> Razael did not respond.</p><p></p><p> “We discussed his lovely young daughter, Lilliana. He states that someone sullied her honor two nights ago – someone from the Order of Huntsmen. Do you know who he might have mentioned, specifically?”</p><p></p><p> “I can’t say as I’m privilege to your conversations with the nobility of Tlaxan, Your Highness,” Razael said, “though from what I understand, Lilliana’s honor was sullied long before this Huntsman you mention came along, and is likely to be sullied again at some point in the future. Why, even her own cousins…”</p><p></p><p> Herion slammed his open hand down on the desk. “Dammit, Razael! Her one-hundredth birthday* was only a week away! And you are older than her father! How do justify that?”</p><p></p><p> This time, the twitch at Razael’s mouth inched upward into a half-grin. “Early birthday present, Your Highness?”</p><p></p><p> Herion just stared at Razael for a while. Then he leaned back and sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. “You place me in a difficult situation, Razael. Marquis Arovnen has threatened to bring this matter before the Emperor. Unless I’m able to come up with a solution first.”</p><p></p><p> Razael casually reached back and withdrew one of his arrows from his quiver. He fingered the razor-sharp head while spinning the shaft slowly. “Do you want the Marquis scared or silenced?” he asked.</p><p></p><p> “That is not the type of solution I’m talking about,” Herion said flatly. Razael shrugged and put his arrow away.</p><p></p><p> “This is not the first time you and I have had this conversation, Razael,” Herion said, standing up and slowly walking around the room. “Your… preferences in regard to the ages of the women you consort with have always been a problem. How many times have you been discharged from duty for that, Razael?”</p><p></p><p> “Thirty-seven,” he answered. “That the Court is aware of.”</p><p></p><p> “Thirty-seven,” repeated Herion, “and of course, one that we will not speak of here. I fail to see why you could not simply wait until these women have come of age. At least then these incidents would be merely scandalous instead of criminal.”</p><p></p><p> “I’ve never claimed patience was one of my virtues,” Razael said.</p><p></p><p> “Nor is discretion, apparently. Really, Razael, you’re an Imperial Huntsman. How is it that you are caught so frequently?”</p><p></p><p> “Believe me, Your Highness, I was not the one who gave away my position. Many of these young women are somewhat unrestrained.”</p><p></p><p> Herion held up a hand. “To borrow a phrase from my wife, there are details which I do not wish to know.” Herion sat back down at his desk. “But improper chaperonage is really the least of the problems, even if it is the most frequent one. There is also the matter of a few untimely deaths, isn’t there?”</p><p></p><p> Razael shrugged again. “I’m a Huntsman, Your Highness. Huntsmen kill.”</p><p></p><p> “Yes, unfortunately that has included some rather prominent people. Such as the Baron of Joxan.”</p><p></p><p> “He attacked me first, Your Highness.”</p><p></p><p> “The Countess of Nal Dashia?”</p><p></p><p> “Again, self-defense. She was casting a spell at me.”</p><p></p><p> “And Lord Yothran from Targeth?”</p><p></p><p> Razael remained silent.</p><p></p><p> “Yes, well,” Herion said, “of course, you were exiled for those incidents, as I recall, though later divinations proved you innocent… or at least, innocent enough that the exile could be revoked.”</p><p></p><p> “If my presence in the Empire has become too burdensome, Your Highness, then feel free to send me away again, or punish me as you see fit. You are the Master Huntsman.”</p><p></p><p> “That’s the problem. Whippings don’t seem to discourage you, nor does being removed from your post. As for exile, well, somehow the thought of you wandering Affon completely unsupervised is more worrisome to me than the thought of the remainder of our Empire’s young women falling under your ministrations.” Herion sighed again. “And, despite the problems you create, the truth is that your skills are too valuable to waste.”</p><p></p><p> “You’re too kind, Your Highness,” Razael said.</p><p></p><p> “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Razael,” Herion said. “I have yet to decide what to do with you.” Herion grabbed a sheet of parchment off a stack on his desk and quickly signed it. “Tomorrow I must go and represent the Empire at the funeral of Archprelate Jerome of the Ardaran church. I’m ordering you suspended from duty and placed under house arrest here at the palace. I am hoping that the Marquis will be satisfied if I explain that I must attend to affairs of state before I can resolve the situation with you.”</p><p></p><p> “Buying yourself some time,” Razael said, “very clever, Your Highness.”</p><p></p><p> “The guards who brought you to me will escort you to your room, where you will remain until I return from Medos. Your meals and other needs will be brought to you – by male servants. If you are seen outside your chamber, you will be shot on sight. Is this understood?”</p><p></p><p> “Right. Couple of weeks being waited on hand and foot in a comfy room in the palace until you get back and give me my comeuppance.”</p><p></p><p> “Try not to take such glee in your punishment where others can hear you,” Herion warned. “You’ve made this situation difficult enough as is without spreading rumors that I’m going easy on you. This is merely the most expedient way I have of keeping you contained until I can deal with you.”</p><p></p><p> “Of course, Your Highness.” Razael bowed, and then turned and walked out of Herion’s office.</p><p></p><p> Once the door was closed, Herion closed his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to will away the headache that had been building all day, ever since his audience with the Marquis this morning. He was as aware of young Lady Lilliana’s reputation as Razael; she, like the other thirty-six young women, (that the Court is aware of, he reminded himself) were not exactly unwilling recipients of the old tracker’s attentions. But that was beside the point. His station as Crown Prince also made him Master of the Huntsmen, and thus he was responsible for their conduct.</p><p></p><p> Herion wasn’t sure what to do with Razael. The refugee from the Western Expanse was skilled, but his attitudes were most… un-elven. For a moment he wished that his wife Ariadne was here; her outlook on life was decidedly different from his, and she might be able to suggest something suitable as a punishment for Razael.</p><p></p><p> Opening his eyes, Herion looked at the stack of parchments on his desk; more work to attend to before he left in the morning. Grabbing the top sheet, he unfolded it and started to skim through its contents, hoping it was something routine and mundane he could just sign and be done with. But he stopped after only a few lines, and read more carefully.</p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><em>Imperial Crown Prince Herion,</em></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><em>Greetings.</em></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><em>I am High Loremistress Galadrel of Erito’s temple in the city of Noxolt. Forgive the informality of this letter, but the matter I bring before you is not one I wish to present through official channels.</em></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><em> We have recently become aware of the emergence of a new Favored Soul of Erito upon the continent of Affon. As you may well imagine, the discovery of any of Erito’s Favored is a cause for great joy among those of our mutual faith, as the Favored are the closest mortal link to the Will of our Lady. However, in this particular case, we have been advised by communion with Erito Herself that this particular Favored, a young elf woman named Madrone, is of particular importance to Her designs. We have been charged with seeing to the welfare of Madrone.</em></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><em> The reason that I have brought this matter to your attention, Your Highness, is that you yourself are familiar with Madrone’s current traveling companions. They include your spouse, the Crown Princess Ariadne Verahannen, and her sister, the Duchess Autumn Verahannen. It is also my understanding that you will be making an official state visit to Medos to represent our nation at the funeral ceremonies for the Ardaran Archprelate, and thus might be in a position to rendezvous with them while in M’Dos, as our divinations indicate that this is where Madrone and her companions are located.</em></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><em> I would consider it a great favor if you could provide some manner of protection to Madrone. Though I do not doubt the skills of your wife or sister-in-law, or their companions, we feel that having someone with them who was more invested in Madrone’s personal well being would be advantageous. I would advise no more than one person be assigned this task; having Madrone followed everywhere by a squadron of Tlaxan infantry would draw too much attention, and Erito advises us that discretion is Madrone’s greatest defense. We have sent along with this letter a sealed scroll, which the person you choose for this assignment may present to Madrone to certify his or her legitimacy. Of course, whatever other authorities you wish to bestow upon this guardian, official or otherwise, are at your discretion.</em></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><em> May Her blessings be upon you.</em></span></p><p> </p><p></p><p> For one of the few times in his long life, Herion laughed out loud to himself. <em>Blessings, indeed!</em></p><p></p><p> For a moment, Herion considered if his idea was wise. Certainly, it would meet the church’s needs, and would neatly solve his other dilemma. But would he be creating a bigger problem? No, he decided. Had he not just been thinking that his wife would be the one most capable of dealing with this problem? While he watched this Madrone, they could watch him. And even if he did get out of line, whatever Razael did outside the borders of Tlaxan was not the concern of the Imperial Court.</p><p></p><p> Herion waved his hand over the small glass globe on his desk, which summoned his personal secretary to his office. The sharply dressed elf came through his door only a minute later.</p><p></p><p> “How may I serve you, Highness?” he said, bowing.</p><p></p><p> “Halifer, please send word to Huntsman Razael Fletcher. He is currently being detained in the south wing. Tell him that he is to be aboard my ship first thing in the morning before I depart for M’Dos.”</p><p></p><p> “And if he inquires about the reason, Highness?”</p><p></p><p> “Tell him…” this time it was the corners of Herion’s mouth that curled upward. “Tell him that he is to learn how to properly chaperone a young woman.”</p><p></p><p>------------------------</p><p></p><p>* Elves are considered adults at the age of one hundred.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Delemental, post: 2798358, member: 5203"] [b]Let the Punishment Fit the Crime[/b] A double update for you today, just in time for Christmas! :D First, we have "Let the Punishment Fit the Crime", a short bit of fiction I wrote on behalf of Razael to explain how he came to be a part of our merry band. The next post will be the continuation of the regular campaign, with the adventure "Final Answer". ------------------------- “Enter,” Herion said, at the knock on his door. Razael Fletcher came in and stood before Herion’s desk, quiet and impassive. As usual, he was dressed in his forest garb, which was covered with a healthy layer of dirt. Bits of dry moss flaked off and fell onto the thick rugs on the floor. “Huntsman Fletcher, do you know why I’ve called you in here?” The old elf paused, and the corner of his mouth twitched with what was almost a smile. “I’m sure I don’t, Your Highness,” he replied. [I]He’s clever enough not to incriminate himself, at least[/I]. “I’ve just spoken with Marquis Arovnen of Malachor. Would you like to know what we discussed?” Razael did not respond. “We discussed his lovely young daughter, Lilliana. He states that someone sullied her honor two nights ago – someone from the Order of Huntsmen. Do you know who he might have mentioned, specifically?” “I can’t say as I’m privilege to your conversations with the nobility of Tlaxan, Your Highness,” Razael said, “though from what I understand, Lilliana’s honor was sullied long before this Huntsman you mention came along, and is likely to be sullied again at some point in the future. Why, even her own cousins…” Herion slammed his open hand down on the desk. “Dammit, Razael! Her one-hundredth birthday* was only a week away! And you are older than her father! How do justify that?” This time, the twitch at Razael’s mouth inched upward into a half-grin. “Early birthday present, Your Highness?” Herion just stared at Razael for a while. Then he leaned back and sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. “You place me in a difficult situation, Razael. Marquis Arovnen has threatened to bring this matter before the Emperor. Unless I’m able to come up with a solution first.” Razael casually reached back and withdrew one of his arrows from his quiver. He fingered the razor-sharp head while spinning the shaft slowly. “Do you want the Marquis scared or silenced?” he asked. “That is not the type of solution I’m talking about,” Herion said flatly. Razael shrugged and put his arrow away. “This is not the first time you and I have had this conversation, Razael,” Herion said, standing up and slowly walking around the room. “Your… preferences in regard to the ages of the women you consort with have always been a problem. How many times have you been discharged from duty for that, Razael?” “Thirty-seven,” he answered. “That the Court is aware of.” “Thirty-seven,” repeated Herion, “and of course, one that we will not speak of here. I fail to see why you could not simply wait until these women have come of age. At least then these incidents would be merely scandalous instead of criminal.” “I’ve never claimed patience was one of my virtues,” Razael said. “Nor is discretion, apparently. Really, Razael, you’re an Imperial Huntsman. How is it that you are caught so frequently?” “Believe me, Your Highness, I was not the one who gave away my position. Many of these young women are somewhat unrestrained.” Herion held up a hand. “To borrow a phrase from my wife, there are details which I do not wish to know.” Herion sat back down at his desk. “But improper chaperonage is really the least of the problems, even if it is the most frequent one. There is also the matter of a few untimely deaths, isn’t there?” Razael shrugged again. “I’m a Huntsman, Your Highness. Huntsmen kill.” “Yes, unfortunately that has included some rather prominent people. Such as the Baron of Joxan.” “He attacked me first, Your Highness.” “The Countess of Nal Dashia?” “Again, self-defense. She was casting a spell at me.” “And Lord Yothran from Targeth?” Razael remained silent. “Yes, well,” Herion said, “of course, you were exiled for those incidents, as I recall, though later divinations proved you innocent… or at least, innocent enough that the exile could be revoked.” “If my presence in the Empire has become too burdensome, Your Highness, then feel free to send me away again, or punish me as you see fit. You are the Master Huntsman.” “That’s the problem. Whippings don’t seem to discourage you, nor does being removed from your post. As for exile, well, somehow the thought of you wandering Affon completely unsupervised is more worrisome to me than the thought of the remainder of our Empire’s young women falling under your ministrations.” Herion sighed again. “And, despite the problems you create, the truth is that your skills are too valuable to waste.” “You’re too kind, Your Highness,” Razael said. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Razael,” Herion said. “I have yet to decide what to do with you.” Herion grabbed a sheet of parchment off a stack on his desk and quickly signed it. “Tomorrow I must go and represent the Empire at the funeral of Archprelate Jerome of the Ardaran church. I’m ordering you suspended from duty and placed under house arrest here at the palace. I am hoping that the Marquis will be satisfied if I explain that I must attend to affairs of state before I can resolve the situation with you.” “Buying yourself some time,” Razael said, “very clever, Your Highness.” “The guards who brought you to me will escort you to your room, where you will remain until I return from Medos. Your meals and other needs will be brought to you – by male servants. If you are seen outside your chamber, you will be shot on sight. Is this understood?” “Right. Couple of weeks being waited on hand and foot in a comfy room in the palace until you get back and give me my comeuppance.” “Try not to take such glee in your punishment where others can hear you,” Herion warned. “You’ve made this situation difficult enough as is without spreading rumors that I’m going easy on you. This is merely the most expedient way I have of keeping you contained until I can deal with you.” “Of course, Your Highness.” Razael bowed, and then turned and walked out of Herion’s office. Once the door was closed, Herion closed his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to will away the headache that had been building all day, ever since his audience with the Marquis this morning. He was as aware of young Lady Lilliana’s reputation as Razael; she, like the other thirty-six young women, (that the Court is aware of, he reminded himself) were not exactly unwilling recipients of the old tracker’s attentions. But that was beside the point. His station as Crown Prince also made him Master of the Huntsmen, and thus he was responsible for their conduct. Herion wasn’t sure what to do with Razael. The refugee from the Western Expanse was skilled, but his attitudes were most… un-elven. For a moment he wished that his wife Ariadne was here; her outlook on life was decidedly different from his, and she might be able to suggest something suitable as a punishment for Razael. Opening his eyes, Herion looked at the stack of parchments on his desk; more work to attend to before he left in the morning. Grabbing the top sheet, he unfolded it and started to skim through its contents, hoping it was something routine and mundane he could just sign and be done with. But he stopped after only a few lines, and read more carefully. [FONT=Book Antiqua][I]Imperial Crown Prince Herion, Greetings. I am High Loremistress Galadrel of Erito’s temple in the city of Noxolt. Forgive the informality of this letter, but the matter I bring before you is not one I wish to present through official channels. We have recently become aware of the emergence of a new Favored Soul of Erito upon the continent of Affon. As you may well imagine, the discovery of any of Erito’s Favored is a cause for great joy among those of our mutual faith, as the Favored are the closest mortal link to the Will of our Lady. However, in this particular case, we have been advised by communion with Erito Herself that this particular Favored, a young elf woman named Madrone, is of particular importance to Her designs. We have been charged with seeing to the welfare of Madrone. The reason that I have brought this matter to your attention, Your Highness, is that you yourself are familiar with Madrone’s current traveling companions. They include your spouse, the Crown Princess Ariadne Verahannen, and her sister, the Duchess Autumn Verahannen. It is also my understanding that you will be making an official state visit to Medos to represent our nation at the funeral ceremonies for the Ardaran Archprelate, and thus might be in a position to rendezvous with them while in M’Dos, as our divinations indicate that this is where Madrone and her companions are located. I would consider it a great favor if you could provide some manner of protection to Madrone. Though I do not doubt the skills of your wife or sister-in-law, or their companions, we feel that having someone with them who was more invested in Madrone’s personal well being would be advantageous. I would advise no more than one person be assigned this task; having Madrone followed everywhere by a squadron of Tlaxan infantry would draw too much attention, and Erito advises us that discretion is Madrone’s greatest defense. We have sent along with this letter a sealed scroll, which the person you choose for this assignment may present to Madrone to certify his or her legitimacy. Of course, whatever other authorities you wish to bestow upon this guardian, official or otherwise, are at your discretion. May Her blessings be upon you.[/I][/FONT] For one of the few times in his long life, Herion laughed out loud to himself. [I]Blessings, indeed![/I] For a moment, Herion considered if his idea was wise. Certainly, it would meet the church’s needs, and would neatly solve his other dilemma. But would he be creating a bigger problem? No, he decided. Had he not just been thinking that his wife would be the one most capable of dealing with this problem? While he watched this Madrone, they could watch him. And even if he did get out of line, whatever Razael did outside the borders of Tlaxan was not the concern of the Imperial Court. Herion waved his hand over the small glass globe on his desk, which summoned his personal secretary to his office. The sharply dressed elf came through his door only a minute later. “How may I serve you, Highness?” he said, bowing. “Halifer, please send word to Huntsman Razael Fletcher. He is currently being detained in the south wing. Tell him that he is to be aboard my ship first thing in the morning before I depart for M’Dos.” “And if he inquires about the reason, Highness?” “Tell him…” this time it was the corners of Herion’s mouth that curled upward. “Tell him that he is to learn how to properly chaperone a young woman.” ------------------------ * Elves are considered adults at the age of one hundred. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Tales of the Legacy - Concluded
Top