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An Adventure in Five Acts (AD&D 2E) (Final Update 25 Feb 2023)
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<blockquote data-quote="ilgatto" data-source="post: 8876129" data-attributes="member: 86051"><p style="text-align: center"></p><p><strong><span style="font-size: 18px">An Adventure in Five Acts, Act IV (Continued)</span></strong></p><p></p><p>About half an hour later, the company reach an impromptu camp of large tents among some deserted barrows. Soldiers and servants move about in an organized fashion and royalist banners fly everywhere. Navarre notices that the banners of his family are not among them, although he does recognize some Sarazin banners.</p><p>The soldier takes our noble heroes to one of the larger tents and announces them to a guard outside, who ushers them in. Inside, many nobles and officers are gathered around long tables laden with copious amounts of food and drink.</p><p>“What news?,” Navarre asks an officer close to the entrance.</p><p>“No resistance to speak of,” the man says. “Operation running smoothly. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”</p><p>When the man leaves the tent, Navarre has good look around for any signs of his kinsmen. He doesn’t find any but does recognize some notable barons and even some low-ranking members of a few ducal families. He concludes that the men and women gathered here must be about a third of the ranks just below the fine fleur of the nobles of the realm.</p><p>The <em>chevalier</em> addresses another officer.</p><p>“Sarazin,” he says.</p><p>“Welcome, welcome,” the officer says.</p><p>“You have fought bravely?”</p><p>The officer throws him a befuddled look as if he isn’t quite sure what the <em>chevalier</em> meant – which few, if any, others are.</p><p></p><p>Then, a tall, lean, old man with a crooked nose and a burnished skin approaches. He is wearing a high-quality chain mail armor and a number of richly clad men follow in his wake.</p><p>“Here, here,” the old man says. “What banter is this?”</p><p>The <em>chevalier</em> executes a grand gesture.</p><p>“Ah!,” the old man says. “The second Sarazin! Scaralat, is it? Where are your men?”</p><p>The <em>chevalier</em> guffaws something unintelligible, neatly avoiding answering the question before continuing: “Is there anybody in command we can speak to? How many men?”</p><p>“<em>Monsieur,</em> I have the honor of introducing Duke Mim the Younger,” one of the duke’s entourage, obviously one of his barons, says in a formal tone.</p><p>“<em>Mon Duc,”</em> the <em>chevalier</em> says, with an elegant bow.</p><p>“What of these chaps?,” Duke Mim asks, looking at our noble heroes. “Can’t say I recognize them.”</p><p>Almost as an afterthought, the <em>chevalier</em> introduces his noble companions.</p><p>The man who spoke earlier clears his throat.</p><p>“Cintugnatus of Mim,” he says, with the slightest nod of his head, before proceeding to introduce the rest of the duke’s entourage, barons all. “Dejotarus of Bagabuxsha. Cynfawr of Thuxra. Odo of Dara. Corwin of Palava. Bomaris of Palava. Ariovanus of Dara. Vanemir of Sarazin.”</p><p>“<em>Mon cher Vanémir!,”</em> the <em>chevalier</em> exclaims, hugging and kissing the baron. <em>“Merveilleux! Merveilleux! Mon cher! Quoi de nouveau de Sarazin?”</em></p><p>“<em>Terrible! Terrible! Terrible!,”</em> baron Vanemir cries, wringing his hands. “The paupers have revolted! We couldn’t make it to the Fortnight! <em>L’infamie!”</em></p><p>“<em>Inacceptable!,”</em> the <em>chevalier</em> cries. “Is there any news of my father?”</p><p>“<em>Salauds!,”</em> the distraught baron continues, his hands in the air. “They came at us from all sides! Raiders came from the mountains, plundering and pillaging, hitting us and Dauberval! We sent men to crush them but then bandits attacked from the rivers! It was all part of some nefarious plan! They blocked the rivers!”</p><p>“You speak of Dauberval, Sir?,” Navarre asks.</p><p>But, like a true Sarazin, the baron does not appear to hear him and continues venting his indignation in a high-pitched voice.</p><p></p><p>And so our noble hero leaves the Sarazins to their excited exchange and notices Sir Montagum among the duke’s entourage, a peasant hero and second in command of the King’s Cavalry. The man must have been among those who escaped the besieged Military Academy now almost two weeks ago.</p><p>“My compliments, Commander,” he says. “Is there any news from Apple Island?”</p><p>“No news to speak of, Sir.”</p><p>“Unfortunate,” Navarre says, gritting his teeth. “So you have not yet retaken it?”</p><p>“Preparations are under way, Sir,” the commander replies in a measured tone.</p><p>“Perhaps I can be of assistance?,” Navarre ventures. “I was on the island when the attack happened.”</p><p>He proceeds to provide the commander with a summary of the events of that fateful night: that soldiers wearing iron armors invaded the island; that the King was murdered; that the invaders were highly organized and that they specifically targeted mages; and that it was Augustus Magister Rex who facilitated their escape from the island.</p><p>Since he isn’t sure how the commander will react to the notion of iron-clad giants killing kings in one blow and magical spells going awry, he leaves such details out of his report.</p><p>“I have heard rumors about these soldiers,” the commander says. “Of course, people say many things these days. Sir.”</p><p>“Indeed,” Navarre says. “Am I to assume that you have not yet encountered these soldiers?”</p><p>“All I can say is that the Academy was attacked by bandits, Sir,“ the commander says.</p><p>“And what of your fight?,” the <em>chevalier</em> cuts in. “How many men are here?”</p><p>“We have cleared the river and prevented the bandits from attacking Palava,” the commander says, again with some emphasis on the word ‘bandits’. “I’d say we are some twelve hundred strong at the moment.”</p><p>“<em>Mes felicitations, monsieur,”</em> the <em>chevalier</em> says. <em>“Et maintenant?</em> Regroup and retake the island?”</p><p>“Exactly so, Sir. We head for Apple Island at first dawn – with as many men as the Duke sees fit. I’d say we’ll be some two-, three hundred men in all.”</p><p>“Count us in,” Sir Eber says. “I’ll be the first off the barge.”</p><p>“Of course,” the commander says.</p><p>“How far to the island?,” Sir Eber asks. “Are there enough barges?”</p><p>“It should be about a mile, Sir,” the commander says.</p><p>“Hmm…,” Sir Eber says. “Too far to tie some boats together and have the troops march to the island.”</p><p></p><p>Navarre turns to Duke Mim again: “Is there any indication as to how many men are still on the island?”</p><p>“Intelligence reports some minor activity there,” the duke replies.</p><p>Navarre raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“Indeed?,” he asks. “How many men do they say are on the island?”</p><p>“I’m sure the men will take care of whatever ruffians they may run in to,” Duke Mim replies stiffly.</p><p>“Of course,” Navarre says. “However, while there were certainly bandits among the invaders, I have also seen many rather well-trained and surprisingly well-equipped soldiers.”</p><p>Duke Mim casts him an absentminded glance.</p><p>“Excellent, excellent,” he says. “The men sent some two hundred peasants packing – dissolved some of these ‘village councils’. Assure me there are no more than a handful of men on the island.”</p><p>“That may be, Sir,” Navarre says, rather miffed at the duke’s apparent disinterest in the matter. “But I assure you that many soldiers were there that night. I have seen them with my own eyes. If you would allow me to speak candidly?”</p><p>The duke is obviously bored with the whole affair.</p><p>“By all means,” he says, glancing at a dish with candied quails and gesturing a servant for a refill.</p><p>Once again, Navarre recounts the events of that fateful night, this time in much more detail although still taking care not to mention any details that could further alienate the intractable duke. He speaks of numbers, orderly formations, iron armors, organized advances, trained archers, targeted attacks.</p><p>When he mentions the enemy specifically targeting sorcerers again, the duke nods.</p><p>“Indeed,” he says. “I have been told that some four or five sorcerers have been killed.”</p><p>“All I am saying, my Lord, is that the scouts may not be fully aware of who or what may still be on the island,” Navarre resumes. “If only half of the invaders are still out there and the scouts have not seen them, we will be in for an unpleasant surprise. The attack happened two weeks ago! A well-organized enemy will have had plenty of time to set up a trap.”</p><p>“My dear fellow,” the duke interrupts, emptying his glass and eyeing the quails again. “We’d better leave it to the men to deal with the situation, wouldn’t you agree? It’s what they’re there for.”</p><p></p><p>Realizing that the duke clearly seems unwilling to accept he could be walking into a trap, Navarre looks for support from his noble fellows and the assembled barons – only to find that most of them avert their eyes or, indeed, have already wandered off. Among the latter are the <em>chevalier</em> and some barons, who are presently perusing a table laden with a variety of choice viands and fine wines.</p><p>Furious, Navarre takes a deep breath. Then Sir Suvali nudges him.</p><p>“I’ll go and have a look for myself,” the sorcerer says under his voice. “Be right back.”</p><p>Navarre nods but continues his attempts to convince the – ever-dwindling – group of nobles around him of the possible risks of the operation, meeting with little success.</p><p>After about an hour of this, Sir Suvali returns.</p><p>“The island is deserted,” he says. “There’s no one. No corpses. All I saw was a handful of looters hauling stuff around but that’s it.”</p><p>“What?,” Navarre asks incredulously. “No one? No corpses? Where did everybody go? How?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” the sorcerer says.</p><p>“What mystery is this?,” Navarre exclaims. “What was the whole thing for?”</p><p>“Maybe the stories about a revolution are true,” the sorcerer says. “Maybe they did want to kill our kinsmen. Invade the duchies, kill everybody and then install their village councils.”</p><p>“And then what?,” Navarre cries. “Surely these people cannot expect us to lie down and subject to the rule of their peasant councils? Don’t they know that such a situation cannot endure? I don’t buy it. People capable of organizing an attack like this cannot be that stupid. Why waste so much time and resources on some fad? Who are these people anyway? And what about this whole Ulm thing? Giants? There must be something else going on!”</p><p>“Stranger things have happened,” the sorcerer says, shrugging his shoulders.</p><p>“Hardly,” Navarre says. “Anyway, I’m off for a leak.”</p><p></p><p>He leaves the tent and heads to the lake. He has just finished when he sees what looks like a speck of fire on the island across the water. Unable to make out exactly what it is, he returns to the tent to find his noble fellows gathered at one of the tables.</p><p>When he tells them what he saw, Sir Oengus immediately gets to his feet.</p><p>“Anchors away!,” he says. “We must go to the island now. I’ll ready the barge.”</p><p>“Sit down,” the sorcerer says. “I made the fire to get the looters away from the trees. I had a look at what they’d been doing and found a mass grave.”</p><p>“A mass grave?,” Navarre asks. “Now you tell us? Mass grave for whom?”</p><p>“Hard to say,” the sorcerer says. “Judging by its size, I’d say it could contain a lot of corpses.”</p><p>“Anything else you haven’t told us?,” Navarre asks irritably.</p><p>“Not much,” the sorcerer says. “The whole place is a mess. All boats and barges at the jetties were sunk. That’s about it.”</p><p>“We should inform Mim,” Navarre says, getting up. “Try one more time.”</p><p></p><p>But when our noble heroes report Sir Suvali’s findings to the duke and his entourage, they seem unimpressed.</p><p>“I’m sure the whole thing will be cleared up tomorrow,” the duke says.</p><p>“We must send a scouting party to the island now,” Sir Oengus says.</p><p>“Perhaps accompanied by one of your men,” Navarre adds. “To avoid any misunderstandings.”</p><p>“We sail at first light,” the duke says, looking at Navarre with a weak smile. “Best to see things in the light.”</p><p>Navarre finally decides to give up. He turns his attention to a selection of superb wines and then to a number of damsels of unmistakable allure.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="ilgatto, post: 8876129, member: 86051"] [CENTER][/CENTER] [B][SIZE=5]An Adventure in Five Acts, Act IV (Continued)[/SIZE][/B] About half an hour later, the company reach an impromptu camp of large tents among some deserted barrows. Soldiers and servants move about in an organized fashion and royalist banners fly everywhere. Navarre notices that the banners of his family are not among them, although he does recognize some Sarazin banners. The soldier takes our noble heroes to one of the larger tents and announces them to a guard outside, who ushers them in. Inside, many nobles and officers are gathered around long tables laden with copious amounts of food and drink. “What news?,” Navarre asks an officer close to the entrance. “No resistance to speak of,” the man says. “Operation running smoothly. Now, if you’ll excuse me?” When the man leaves the tent, Navarre has good look around for any signs of his kinsmen. He doesn’t find any but does recognize some notable barons and even some low-ranking members of a few ducal families. He concludes that the men and women gathered here must be about a third of the ranks just below the fine fleur of the nobles of the realm. The [I]chevalier[/I] addresses another officer. “Sarazin,” he says. “Welcome, welcome,” the officer says. “You have fought bravely?” The officer throws him a befuddled look as if he isn’t quite sure what the [I]chevalier[/I] meant – which few, if any, others are. Then, a tall, lean, old man with a crooked nose and a burnished skin approaches. He is wearing a high-quality chain mail armor and a number of richly clad men follow in his wake. “Here, here,” the old man says. “What banter is this?” The [I]chevalier[/I] executes a grand gesture. “Ah!,” the old man says. “The second Sarazin! Scaralat, is it? Where are your men?” The [I]chevalier[/I] guffaws something unintelligible, neatly avoiding answering the question before continuing: “Is there anybody in command we can speak to? How many men?” “[I]Monsieur,[/I] I have the honor of introducing Duke Mim the Younger,” one of the duke’s entourage, obviously one of his barons, says in a formal tone. “[I]Mon Duc,”[/I] the [I]chevalier[/I] says, with an elegant bow. “What of these chaps?,” Duke Mim asks, looking at our noble heroes. “Can’t say I recognize them.” Almost as an afterthought, the [I]chevalier[/I] introduces his noble companions. The man who spoke earlier clears his throat. “Cintugnatus of Mim,” he says, with the slightest nod of his head, before proceeding to introduce the rest of the duke’s entourage, barons all. “Dejotarus of Bagabuxsha. Cynfawr of Thuxra. Odo of Dara. Corwin of Palava. Bomaris of Palava. Ariovanus of Dara. Vanemir of Sarazin.” “[I]Mon cher Vanémir!,”[/I] the [I]chevalier[/I] exclaims, hugging and kissing the baron. [I]“Merveilleux! Merveilleux! Mon cher! Quoi de nouveau de Sarazin?”[/I] “[I]Terrible! Terrible! Terrible!,”[/I] baron Vanemir cries, wringing his hands. “The paupers have revolted! We couldn’t make it to the Fortnight! [I]L’infamie!”[/I] “[I]Inacceptable!,”[/I] the [I]chevalier[/I] cries. “Is there any news of my father?” “[I]Salauds!,”[/I] the distraught baron continues, his hands in the air. “They came at us from all sides! Raiders came from the mountains, plundering and pillaging, hitting us and Dauberval! We sent men to crush them but then bandits attacked from the rivers! It was all part of some nefarious plan! They blocked the rivers!” “You speak of Dauberval, Sir?,” Navarre asks. But, like a true Sarazin, the baron does not appear to hear him and continues venting his indignation in a high-pitched voice. And so our noble hero leaves the Sarazins to their excited exchange and notices Sir Montagum among the duke’s entourage, a peasant hero and second in command of the King’s Cavalry. The man must have been among those who escaped the besieged Military Academy now almost two weeks ago. “My compliments, Commander,” he says. “Is there any news from Apple Island?” “No news to speak of, Sir.” “Unfortunate,” Navarre says, gritting his teeth. “So you have not yet retaken it?” “Preparations are under way, Sir,” the commander replies in a measured tone. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?,” Navarre ventures. “I was on the island when the attack happened.” He proceeds to provide the commander with a summary of the events of that fateful night: that soldiers wearing iron armors invaded the island; that the King was murdered; that the invaders were highly organized and that they specifically targeted mages; and that it was Augustus Magister Rex who facilitated their escape from the island. Since he isn’t sure how the commander will react to the notion of iron-clad giants killing kings in one blow and magical spells going awry, he leaves such details out of his report. “I have heard rumors about these soldiers,” the commander says. “Of course, people say many things these days. Sir.” “Indeed,” Navarre says. “Am I to assume that you have not yet encountered these soldiers?” “All I can say is that the Academy was attacked by bandits, Sir,“ the commander says. “And what of your fight?,” the [I]chevalier[/I] cuts in. “How many men are here?” “We have cleared the river and prevented the bandits from attacking Palava,” the commander says, again with some emphasis on the word ‘bandits’. “I’d say we are some twelve hundred strong at the moment.” “[I]Mes felicitations, monsieur,”[/I] the [I]chevalier[/I] says. [I]“Et maintenant?[/I] Regroup and retake the island?” “Exactly so, Sir. We head for Apple Island at first dawn – with as many men as the Duke sees fit. I’d say we’ll be some two-, three hundred men in all.” “Count us in,” Sir Eber says. “I’ll be the first off the barge.” “Of course,” the commander says. “How far to the island?,” Sir Eber asks. “Are there enough barges?” “It should be about a mile, Sir,” the commander says. “Hmm…,” Sir Eber says. “Too far to tie some boats together and have the troops march to the island.” Navarre turns to Duke Mim again: “Is there any indication as to how many men are still on the island?” “Intelligence reports some minor activity there,” the duke replies. Navarre raises an eyebrow. “Indeed?,” he asks. “How many men do they say are on the island?” “I’m sure the men will take care of whatever ruffians they may run in to,” Duke Mim replies stiffly. “Of course,” Navarre says. “However, while there were certainly bandits among the invaders, I have also seen many rather well-trained and surprisingly well-equipped soldiers.” Duke Mim casts him an absentminded glance. “Excellent, excellent,” he says. “The men sent some two hundred peasants packing – dissolved some of these ‘village councils’. Assure me there are no more than a handful of men on the island.” “That may be, Sir,” Navarre says, rather miffed at the duke’s apparent disinterest in the matter. “But I assure you that many soldiers were there that night. I have seen them with my own eyes. If you would allow me to speak candidly?” The duke is obviously bored with the whole affair. “By all means,” he says, glancing at a dish with candied quails and gesturing a servant for a refill. Once again, Navarre recounts the events of that fateful night, this time in much more detail although still taking care not to mention any details that could further alienate the intractable duke. He speaks of numbers, orderly formations, iron armors, organized advances, trained archers, targeted attacks. When he mentions the enemy specifically targeting sorcerers again, the duke nods. “Indeed,” he says. “I have been told that some four or five sorcerers have been killed.” “All I am saying, my Lord, is that the scouts may not be fully aware of who or what may still be on the island,” Navarre resumes. “If only half of the invaders are still out there and the scouts have not seen them, we will be in for an unpleasant surprise. The attack happened two weeks ago! A well-organized enemy will have had plenty of time to set up a trap.” “My dear fellow,” the duke interrupts, emptying his glass and eyeing the quails again. “We’d better leave it to the men to deal with the situation, wouldn’t you agree? It’s what they’re there for.” Realizing that the duke clearly seems unwilling to accept he could be walking into a trap, Navarre looks for support from his noble fellows and the assembled barons – only to find that most of them avert their eyes or, indeed, have already wandered off. Among the latter are the [I]chevalier[/I] and some barons, who are presently perusing a table laden with a variety of choice viands and fine wines. Furious, Navarre takes a deep breath. Then Sir Suvali nudges him. “I’ll go and have a look for myself,” the sorcerer says under his voice. “Be right back.” Navarre nods but continues his attempts to convince the – ever-dwindling – group of nobles around him of the possible risks of the operation, meeting with little success. After about an hour of this, Sir Suvali returns. “The island is deserted,” he says. “There’s no one. No corpses. All I saw was a handful of looters hauling stuff around but that’s it.” “What?,” Navarre asks incredulously. “No one? No corpses? Where did everybody go? How?” “I don’t know,” the sorcerer says. “What mystery is this?,” Navarre exclaims. “What was the whole thing for?” “Maybe the stories about a revolution are true,” the sorcerer says. “Maybe they did want to kill our kinsmen. Invade the duchies, kill everybody and then install their village councils.” “And then what?,” Navarre cries. “Surely these people cannot expect us to lie down and subject to the rule of their peasant councils? Don’t they know that such a situation cannot endure? I don’t buy it. People capable of organizing an attack like this cannot be that stupid. Why waste so much time and resources on some fad? Who are these people anyway? And what about this whole Ulm thing? Giants? There must be something else going on!” “Stranger things have happened,” the sorcerer says, shrugging his shoulders. “Hardly,” Navarre says. “Anyway, I’m off for a leak.” He leaves the tent and heads to the lake. He has just finished when he sees what looks like a speck of fire on the island across the water. Unable to make out exactly what it is, he returns to the tent to find his noble fellows gathered at one of the tables. When he tells them what he saw, Sir Oengus immediately gets to his feet. “Anchors away!,” he says. “We must go to the island now. I’ll ready the barge.” “Sit down,” the sorcerer says. “I made the fire to get the looters away from the trees. I had a look at what they’d been doing and found a mass grave.” “A mass grave?,” Navarre asks. “Now you tell us? Mass grave for whom?” “Hard to say,” the sorcerer says. “Judging by its size, I’d say it could contain a lot of corpses.” “Anything else you haven’t told us?,” Navarre asks irritably. “Not much,” the sorcerer says. “The whole place is a mess. All boats and barges at the jetties were sunk. That’s about it.” “We should inform Mim,” Navarre says, getting up. “Try one more time.” But when our noble heroes report Sir Suvali’s findings to the duke and his entourage, they seem unimpressed. “I’m sure the whole thing will be cleared up tomorrow,” the duke says. “We must send a scouting party to the island now,” Sir Oengus says. “Perhaps accompanied by one of your men,” Navarre adds. “To avoid any misunderstandings.” “We sail at first light,” the duke says, looking at Navarre with a weak smile. “Best to see things in the light.” Navarre finally decides to give up. He turns his attention to a selection of superb wines and then to a number of damsels of unmistakable allure. [/QUOTE]
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