(Year of the Pretender) A Curious Position

[Loonook]

DISCLAIMER: The Year of the Pretender Story Hour May Include Themes Not Suitable for Some Audiences. Strong Language, and Graphic Situations (but not the extreme) may be included. Reader Discretion is Advised.

[[The Year of the Pretender Story-Hour is a fuller interpretation of the Year of the Pretender Chat-Game, held in the room #YearofthePretender on chat.psionics.net on Sundays and Wednesdays 10-2(4) EST. This Story-Hour will be in various formats at the start; from diary entries to discourse, testimonies, etc. As the party gains fame, the Story Hour will be altered as such, and may include diary entries from players and main-characters, along with out-of-session events included.]]

Thanke for reading,

-Loonook

Chapter 1: Until Death Do Us Part:

"Being the Imperial Representative at the wedding, I was surprised that such a thing could happen. A full investigation is to be launched into the occurrence, and the men who were involved."
- Carler Vindsolan, Imperial Courtier.

"I believe I have made a grave mistake... it is your duty to prove me wrong."
- Vilindos the Bright Friar, Slave-trader.


It was a beautiful ceremony. As the name of Yuasia Tyendor was intoned, and her blessings placed upon the house, I wept at the chanter's kind words to the wedding party. It was a beautiful thing; I believe in my heart of hearts that this marriage will be a long-lasting one, but I could not wait: I had business.

My companion Vilindos, a great man and compassionate servant of the Imperium in all of his pursuits, had sent me to this festival to gather a few men. My uses to him are far fewer than they once were; I was never a true fighter, only a chronicler of the events which were around me. And as I exited the enormous arch of Yuasia I knew my task would be difficult. Hundreds had gathered outside of the temple, and for what? To see the wedding of a noble and a sorceress? No . . . the wedding was a spectacle, a place to be seen. If you aren't there to climb the social ladder your hands are in a hundred pockets, foolish nobles too soft-minded to keep their eyes on their coinpurses in the middle of a crowd. As I saw the dark-skinned figure attempt to hide from me, I knew I had found my mark. And so I touched her mind.

I saw you before you hid, fair Taren. Perhaps a bit more respect for your good friend Ami?

Ohh.. Ami. I hardly saw ye. How is the old bastard treating you? I heard he had taken you to his bed . . . his desire for young sweet boys has always been a weakness.

Aye, he has . . . but such is the way of those above your ken. I've been sent to pay a handsome for your assistance . . . and since we have, a past, I would be willing to pay it.

A past! We were married! Five years of my life and you want to forget it? We were meant for each other, we even know the other's thoughts!

A cheap sorcery, given to us by your father . . . may he rot forever more. You were a marriage of convenience and property, and you knew I could not stand your . . .

Still your tongue, fair-one. you have hurt me once, I will not let ye again. I will do what you wish, and you know my price.

Would five hundred satisfy you? It is, after all, just a meeting to bring a few to the wedding

Aye, five hundred . . . I suspect you want me to call the others?

Aye, I'll give you their names, and I know you can find them on your own

When I gave her the names I went off, to visit the noble house Callivar. A beautiful structure; its architecture rose high into the heavens, sharply standing between earth and sky. I gave my invitation at the door and sat at my table, only to be found by my good-sir Vilindos and Malain, his head servant.

"I trust my songbird has done his duty? I need these men, Ami, more than you will ever know. Though I have lost much, I cannot lose Ralpi; he was too fine a friend, and he brought me some of the life I have gained here." Vilindos still stood at the table, larger-than-life. He was tall yet thick, bordering on obese; he fanned himself as he spoke, the room being far too hot for his tastes. I have seen that fan do many impressive things, but Vilindos did not expose all of his secrets until there was a need. Malain was his normal withdrawn self; dressed in somber black, the man seemed prepared for a warrior's funeral rather than the joyous wedding before him. He sipped a glass of wine brought by a young servant, and extended his bony hand to touch my shoulder.

"Though the Friar is blinded by your beauty, I am not of his tastes. We pay you well for your services; you are a skilled singer, and master of the props we must use to maintain appearances. If any, and I do mean any, person on our list does not respond . . ." Malain then tightened his grip, and my crippled arm throbbed with pain. I always felt that Malain was far too dark of temper to please the good-sir; but his head for numbers and diplomacy was renowned even amongst the more noble professions.

A man entered the room, dressed in fine though somewhat outdated noble fashion. Though noticably older than my own tastes normally allowed, he was a fine figure, and his grace through the crowd was exquisite. He sat down and introduced himself as Reinare. I had heard the name bandied about for quite some time; he was a bard of little note, minor house, and expendable, but his sharp, grating wit and problem with the bottle almost made Malain choose another man, a sorcerer from the School of Charms, for his position. His natural charisma was astounding, as even when he was biting you could not feel truly angered, knowing it was the bitterness of a man well-practiced in the art of acidic commentary.

"Sit down, good-sir, and drink with us. Your men will come along in good time. I know a large amount about you and your commoner tongue, good-sir." I spoke in jest, of course, not wanting to anger but to lighten the situation.

"Strong drink and your silence will make the time past far faster." said Reinare, as he took the closest glass to his lips. He swilled the fine Palace Siran Year 1543 as if it were a commoner's wine, and smiled as he smacked his lips. Though he was of noble blood, his bearing was obviously left something to be desired.

"I will not have my assistant silenced by a bush-knight whelp such as yourself. I too know much about you; your house, your exile, and the troupe which you traveled with. Most were imprisoned by the Imperium for speaking unkind words of the Emperor, but you used your minor pull to have it forgotten, right? A harmless prank under duress? Do not take us for fools, though we may appear far different from you." Vilindos' long wind was enough to break Reinare's ire, and as we sat sipping wine we finally saw the other two. A man dressed in finery and a man dressed in rags; the prior led by Taren, the other alone.

I did as ye asked, and I expect payment.

Sit down, my beauty, and we'll see to your payment.

When they all sat down, Vilindos deigned to speak yet again.

"Gentlemen, Lady Taren. I am Vilindos, and I have been sent by others who wish you to accept a certain responsibility. As you have most likely seen, the Imperium has begun to track and assault those who worship openly the spirits which dwell in the land. While some call this a holy crusade and others a ploy for power, I believe the tale is deeper than that. Rumors of strange activity, and the disappearance of one of my comrades has led me to believe there is something beneath the surface. However, if my notions are true, the standard methods of communication and seeking out the answer to my question could prove dangerous. Thus, I make an offer; I extend the offer to each of you." Vilindos took a short sip, and raised his glass to a passerby. While he did so he motioned towards me, and I followed suit. I produced a flute I earned while a warrior in the artic wastes of the barbarian regions of Kuln, and I started to play. The sound dampened all others around it, turning our most boisterous shout to a faint whisper.

"I have been given the right to offer a grant of land to each of you, and the right to attend a ceremony of knighthood. Land and title would place you amongst the nobility. . . "

"trumpery trash, titles, and over-fed bastards, nobility" Reinare responded. Malain frowned, but Vilindos continued on without stopping.

"Nobility, a precious thing in this land. It could give you a life of ease and freedom from worry. I know of your stories . . . I have learned of all that you have done. I know Darius, the warrior who has lost many along his way. And Derrik of Watching Clan, in whom the blood of the Godspear flows. I will not force any of you into the fray; it is your choice to make, say true." Vilindos stopped, and pulled from his pockets a small pipe. He sat back waiting for the inevitable questions. But here he tuned even me out; his trust in me is less than perfect, and I trust his decision.

They were silent for five minutes, and when I finally heard them again, they had come to the conclusion that they would accept the Imperium's offer, and some offer which had been agreed upon. Though this was a dangerous business for Vilin to speak of, I believe he has chosen wisely these men. It was only a few minutes more of discussion before they ran to the sound of screams; I have heard rumors of a battle, but my knowledge of what happened is faulty at best.

-Diary of Ami the Handsome, 12th Day of Ascension, 1590.

Next Installment: The Testimony of Elinor Callivari, before the Council of Bells in Ostarnauch.

 

[Loonook]

Master Librarian Ugan Shaé for the Order of the Rose,
Here are the documents you have requested . . . I hope that this will do for our debt... I also seek a copy of a certain item that could possibly be in your possession: one "Book of the Wanderer's Ruse". Could you perhaps look in your archives for the tome?

Thanke,

- Yulicious Mar, Page-scribe of the Council of Bells


Transcript: 14th Day of Ascension, Questioning of Elinor Callivari.

Jurei ya Vuldan ad-a Huin d’Ostari, ma juri ad-an Cirisal Matolli
(Woldan Bless He, the Emperor Ostari, and Bless the Council of Bells.)

The Witness was led into the Council chamber by Clerk Durinal, who then swore the Witness to the law of the Council. The questioning representatives of the Council were determined as Councilors Alran, Ertu, and Malikar for this witness.

Alran: You understand the oath you have sworn, Elinor Wife of Aureli Callivari?

Witness: Yes, I understand sir.

Ertu: I believe I will move for a suspension of questioning, and allow direct testimony on the issue?

((The Council votes, marked as a vote of 45-12-3 in favor. The Council then asks Elinor for her testimony))

Elinor Callivari: My wedding-day was a grand affair, as to be expected of my husband's family... many amongst you have dealt with his father before. Well, as I was preparing for the rest of my day, a strange courier came to me, and asked where he could drop the package . . . he looked very primitive, but you never know with those people...

As I started to open my gifts, I found myself overwhelmed by a strange force; unable to move. Those around me began to scream, and then I saw it . . . the creature looked somewhat like the man I had seen before, but his skin was the color of a jade stone, and his hands were . . . were claws. He began to approach me, ready to take me away, when three men burst into the room. I thought they were his accomplices, though I could not do a thing from my paralysis. The creature dropped me, and I was knocked unconscious.

When I awoke, I was able to move again . . . the men were bloody, while one of them (the only one who looked truly noble) was burned in several places, a strange orb-like creature eating at his flesh. As I saw this, I reached into my dress, and drew forth the wand I carry wherever I go, a gift from my father. I stood up and struck the courier down with a bolt of lightning from my wand, and then helped the men as much as possible. When they were done, I offered them all that I had to give and assisted them in healing.

Malikar: If the witness has finished her statement, I would like to suspend the rules of the Council to allow further questioning of the witness?

((The Council votes, 34-25-1 with a thin margin of passing))

((Councilor Weren from Areisi stands to question))

Weren: Would you please describe the men further for the Council, wife of Callivari?

Elinor Callivari: Yes councilor. One of them was dressed in sack-cloth; another dressed in outdated noble clothing, and another in shimmering clothes, which seemed to fade when he fought.

Weren: Have you ever seen any of these men before the event?

Elinor Callivari: No, sir.

Weren: And do you remember their names?

Elinor Callivari: Yes . . . the peasant was named Derrik, the older gentleman was Reinare, and the other Darius.

Weren: I would like to point out the fact that none of the men, by the names they have given, appear on the guest list as supplied by the father of the bride.

((The Guest List is entered into the Council's Records, and Councilors are allowed to view the document.))

Weren: Now, describe the actions of the men, if you would so please.

Elinor Callivari: They were strange... the peasant would not accept the gifts of my family, while the others . . . well, they seemed somewhat anxious to be gone.

Weren: I apologize to the good woman Callivari and her groom for my frankness, but are these habits not strange of those who would protect such a fair woman as you?

Elinor Callivari: Aye, 'tis strange.

Weren: And such gallantry, such gusto, from men who have never been officially allowed into the house!

Elinor Callivari: Aye, strange as you said.

Weren: I propose that there may be something . . . stranger, than the situation would seem. Does your husband have enemies?

Elinor Callivari: He is of House Callivar, is he not?

Weren: My apologies. This is for the record from your own mouth.

Elinor Callivari: Yes, my husband has many enemies.

Weren: Could any of these enemies have somehow entered into your wedding reception?

Elinor Callivari: No sir.

Weren: Then how, exactly, did men, not on the guest list, gain access to your private occasion?

Elinor Callivari: I would not know, sir.

Weren: It is said that these men, by previous testimony from other guests, were in the company of one Vilindos, a slave-trader in the Capital. Has Vilindos had words with your father, your husband, anyone associated with you?

Elinor Callivari: My husband sold his slaves when we were to be married, and Vilindos was angered by the price he attempted to charge . . .

Weren: Such anger, and then a chance meeting... perhaps there is something to this encounter, do you think Kiv Callivari?

Elinor Callivari: Perhaps, sir.

Weren: I have no further questions.

((Questioning was suspended for 3 nights, until further investigation could occur.))

 

[Loonook]

Interlude

"We gather today on this night, in the name of our Lord and Master! May His teachings never be forgotten!" says the grey-cloaked man. His hair is drawn back, held in a short, blocky ponytail by a leather hank. Those that surround him, with their fair features, stand like men at a dance, their usual noble dress replaced by hardened armor and long capes, strange adornments abound around them.

There stand ten men in a half-circle in this abandoned temple; the walls have been stripped of all religious iconography, leaving only the bare stone walls. Such a temple could be anywhere in the Imperium, as the glass in its small windows bear the Mark of the Rose even now.

"We call upon our Master, Lord of the Forge, to guide our hands in our mission! With the blood of the commoner we call him to our aid, to repay the debts we have been forced to make, for his body is legion, in the blade of every weapon, the gleam of armor's steel, in his name I say, in his name I call him!" The man raises his hands, and as he does so two of the figures fall to their knees. They grasp their lower torso, and spit on the floor; in the firelight their saliva is streaked blood-red, and their bodies fall into a heap, blood surrounding them.

"They had lost the faith, and we will replace them tonight. By his hand and by his name we are forged, and with the blood of his blades spilt we call him to us!"

The air starts to thicken, and you see nothing. You hear the sounds of movement, of strange sickening falls of a thousand hammers, the smell of sulphur and pitch, and then the loud crash.

"I have come, my children; to your call and by my watch I came, and now I have come to take payment. Who amongst you is the one who has brought my sacrifice?" The voice is gravelly, harsh as the coals of the smith's hearth. It burns the ears to hear it, and the men seem to be ready to cower at its sound.

"I did, my Master." Says one, a man dressed in green who comes forward. He bears a long, curved blade which gleams in the light. He thrusts it into the ground, and the ground glows with its power. The screams of men echo in the temple, and the man bows to his master.

"From each I take a pittance; blood cries for blood. Now, I will grant you your desires, one by one."

And so the creature moves amongst them; its form is shadowy; a long tail sweeps from the figure as it walks amongst its disciples; each seems to glow a bit, become taller and finer-featured. They depart at his command, leaving only one behind.

"Oh, young one . . . you were young when they first branded you. I could not help such things; I am a creature beyond mortal ken, but my time would have been wasted. You know who harmed you; who turned you away from the Order. The one who wanted you ousted again as your master burned in the Court. I have placed him away for you; but there are those who wish his return. Those who know of us through him, and he would betray us again. I give you one of my finest creations; a blade for a blade, some would say. You have shown me your will; will you show me your strength?"

"Yes Master... I am but the blade in your hand. Hail the True God's Hand!"

End Interlude

 

[Loonook]

Of Silver Leaves

"Raise your glasses, my knights, to the Order and to the World!" he seems to smile as he raises the glass. He was always a virile man; his ability to deal with situations was what made her choose him so long ago. It had been a day in the woods for him; how long ago she could not remember. She wandered those woods sometimes, seeking out beauty which she would sketch into her book, and return to her home.

He was dressed in leathers, simple travel wear, but something about him caught her eye. She came to him in dreams; the woman with the silver hair, the silver lips, the smile which gleamed in the sunlight. For a week the one who was known as Ulre to his friends suffered; twisting and turning in his bed. He was in Tuin then; a kingdom which fell with the old ways, forgotten, swallowed by the mountain in which it lived. He alone remembers what happened now . . . their screams, the cackling, running down the hallways of the Spire of Tuin, attempting to hide the child . . .

He was crushed then. She came to him; her touch brought him back from the shadows, but he was not whole. So she cast him into the child; to forever return to the land, to her forest. She loved him then, and she loved him each time he returned; once he took so long, a century, returning as an archmage from far across the sea... he lay beneath her leaves and fell into that final sleep.

He knew her now, had known her for fourty years in this form. He remembered their love, and when his new form, the knight Gilder, returned he blessed the ground. He was saddened at the loss of her ancient tree, cut down three centuries ago, in a lifetime when he could not find her. He brought the tree back with powerful wards, nursing it to health from a single seed, and she returned every year to bless his knighthood.

Until this night. The new ones . . . one was blooded, a child of Godspear. Another she knew from the girl's blood; the shine of the Sword was in her. The others were strong of soul, but had no ties to the blood; she blessed them all the same. Had it been so long when the girl came to her and laid beneath her bough? Had the child forgotten?

And when her man, her Vassal called for her, though weak she fought. She fought against the wraith; gave him the power of the Silver Flame once again, and channeled her strength through him.

She left her tree that night; returning the her world. She wept as she did so, freed from bondage to the land but having lost her bond to her Vassal, her love.

__
__

The World changed that day . . . and on the outskirts of the battle, stands a man dressed in noble's robes. In his hands he bears a grand blade; its form seems to meld with his hand, a perfect fit. The blade seems to dwell in the flames of the forge; its power radiates . . . a blade fitting for the blade.