Aphonion Tales (New posts 6/13, 6/15, 6/19)

[Orichalcum]

Well, well.

I think Lord Alistair should marry a daughter of King Erich. Yes, that would be most suitable, I think.

Dame Brionna is highly in agreement with you, both because she herself is a refugee from the southern kingdoms, and thus wants to promote their nobility, and because of a very bad feeling.

The Princess of the Gates, you see, is described as "quiet as a mouse." In a city which we know to have been infiltrated by skaven ratmen, who can absorb people's memories and replace them. Maybe, Brionna hopes, she's just having a random anti-vermin prejudice.

But really, is it worth risking Alistair's health on? After all, the one place where she really can't protect him is behind closed doors with his wife on their wedding night. And it's hard enough bodyguarding a randy young nobleman like Alistair...

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

Lady Susan, herself gray-haired but still vigorous, smiled apologetically. "That's the Marquis's son, your grace. Remember? You know that the Prince's father was killed fighting the Noldar."

"Oh... yes. I had forgotten. A sad day indeed, your highness. You have my most earnest condolences. And to face another loss so soon..."

"Thank you, your grace." Alistair paused. "Tell me, your grace... are you aware of any Noldar in or near your lands?"

"Noldar? I suppose the slavers might raid the refugees now and again, although not since your heroic..." Lady Susan whispered urgently in his ear, and a look of pain crossed the Duke's face again, as it had after the first correction. "I mean your father's heroic action against them. But even then, they did not come as far as Furrows. I haven't heard or seen any Noldar in Furrows in many years."

"When did you last see one?" asked Kit.

"Some fifty years ago, a small drowan entourage with a Noldar leader came to us, many years ago when I was younger. They wished to position a fortification-- they called it a scientific outpost, but that's what it was-- in our lands, but departed reluctantly when I refused. They also approached the Gate, and were refused there as well. I believe they finally built their outpost in the unclaimed mountain territories."

"Do you know what House the Noldar was from, your grace?"

"Yes... they were of the Aufaugauthalarim."

"It's interesting you should mention the Noldar, your highness," the Sheriff of Cogswood said. "We haven't seen any Noldar, but the fallen elves were one of the things we thought you should know about. There have been more than a few shadow elves, spying in the woods near Caldra for the last few years. We've captured a few, but couldn't get answers to any of our questions. All the prisoners just died. The Earl of Caldra may have captured more, but... not that I would know of."

Lady Susan nodded. "Caldra has become more withdrawn following their troubles, your highness. After banditry and assassinations among the squires and gentry, including the odd death of one of his best knights who exploded-- the Earl is rarely seen now, and does the bare minimum of his duty to His Grace. We haven't felt like pushing the issue for the past several years, as you may understand."

"What of the Earl of Caligshire? We have heard that a renegade drow councillor, Drucilla, carries much influence there."

"Drucilla?" the Duke of Furrows responded. "Lovely woman. Except when she talks about insects, mostly the eight-legged kind..."

"I wouldn't say lovely," said Lady Susan. "Competent would be the word I would use. She's been present since the present earl was just a boy. He relies on her in all of his major decisions."

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

"What of his choice to pass over his son?" asked Dame Brionna.

Lady Susan pursed her lips. "A difficult matter. The son, Benedict, is clearly incompetent. It's almost as if he's insane. I don't see much choice there, but it will spell trouble later."

Alistair nodded. "I do not wish to pry into your houses internal matters, but will your succession be smooth? His grace is not a young man."

Lady Susan nodded. "My brother's eldest son predeceased him, one of several things that hastened his condition." The Duke simply looked confused as Lady Susan discussed him. "But he left behind two sons. My brother's eldest grandson has just been invested as a paladin. He's seventeen, but would be ready to assume his duties if he had to. His second grandson, Brendan, has not yet chosen much of anything. But he is only fourteen, and his primary talents so far are quite inappropriate."

Alistair nodded, relieved. "I have a few other questions about Caligshire. What do you think about the earl's daughter?"

Lady Susan responded directly, without waiting for the Duke to comment. "She's certainly more competent than Benedict. She's also close to Drucilla, of course." She frowned. "We also have had the opportunity to read a few letters that Cassandra has exchanged with Wade, the eldest son of the Lady Mayor of Canberry City. Based on the missives, they are courting. She is young, but not so that courtship is impossible, given her station. But Wade is only fourteen. I would not have thought that his mother would want him to think of such things for some more years. Still, it may just be the innocent interests of the heart. But then, he's rather far away, and a surprising object for a happenstance crush."

"Thank you, Lady Susan. We'll look into that from here." said Kit.

"If there are no other matters, my brother needs his rest."

"Of course, Lady Susan. Thank you again for attending on us, your grace, Sheriff."

After they left, Kit nodded. "Drucilla seems to fit our profile for a Noldar better and better. An albino renegade drow who just happens to set up in the same area that we know a Noldar is secretly active?"

"I agree, especially with the Earl slipping quietly into the City without announcing his arrival. I just wish I understood the matter between Cassandra and Wade better. I guess we know what we need to investigate next."

---End of Session 4

Ladybird will be taking over with the Storyhour duties for the next session, since I wasn't there and thus couldn't write up the Storyhour. As a result, the last updated tag may not always be accurate, but I'll try to keep it up to date.

 

[Quartz]

More! More! And longer, please!

 

[Ladybird]

Here commences Session 5, which took place in February. As you'll see in upcoming episodes, there's quite a different cast of characters for this one. I can't promise to live up to the diligent posting schedule set by Cerebral Paladin, but I will do my best Enjoy!

--
Two weeks after the death of Archduchess Amelia, the court of Canberry was still in mourning. Black draperies muted the gleaming white marble of the palace walls, and somber mourning clothes replaced the usual finery of the courtiers.

Kit didn’t mind. She preferred wearing black anyway.

And Kit was one of the few people at the court who had broken out of the endless cycle of memorials and prayers. Although she wished she could remain at Alistair’s side to comfort him – the new Archduke was already being noted for the sincerity of his grief at his grandmother’s passing, something rare in an heir who benefited so much at a relative’s death – Kit had other things to do.

“There are slavers at work in the south,” Dame Esmeralda said. For now, the small room next to the archducal audience chamber still belonged to the older knight, and provided a comfortable and private meeting place. “We’ve got a group of people heading out there, and you’re going to accompany them.”

”Aren’t there always slavers working south of the border, m’lady?”

Dame Esmeralda smiled at Kit’s quickness, but only a little – the Mouth had been as subdued as the rest of the court these last two weeks; perhaps even more so, since she had been so close to the Archduchess. “Yes. But these may be different ones. If they belong to the Sixth District, we want to know if they’re still active – but we think that these slavers may belong to a different group, perhaps even a non-Noldar group. They haven’t come too near to the border yet, but it’s still close enough that we want to know about it.”

Kit nodded, but a little more slowly this time. “Yes, ma’am,” she said carefully. “But…are you sure that I’m the one who needs to go? I mean, if you need me to help fight slavers, I will, but…I think there are a lot of other things at court that need to be taken care of.”

Dame Esmeralda smiled again, with a knowing little lift of her eyebrows. “I understand that you’re reluctant to leave the prince – the Archduke’s side.” Her voice skipped a beat, as she corrected herself on Alistair’s new title. “But there are other things that I think you in particular need to investigate. First, even though the heir to Brightspan has been taken care of, and his father’s allegiance secured, there are still doubts about the loyalty of the rest of the family. You’ll be passing through the duchy of Brightspan on your way south of the border – check out the rest of the ducal family, and see if there are any other potential threats to Canberry.”

“Right.” Kit nodded firmly, her expression darkening a little at the memory of the previous assassination attempts on Alistair, and her mouth set into a determined line. “What else?”

“Farther south, in the refugee lands, there seem to be some people setting themselves up as nobles. They’re only the strong-man type of noble – might makes right, without any kind of governmental power or organization. Still, if they are going to be the new power base south of the border, we need to make sure that their loyalty is to us. You’re to investigate them, make sure of their loyalty, and place some agents within their boundaries – we will need continuing sources of information on these new nobles. You’re authorized to draw on 25,000 gold from the privy purse, in order to compensate your new agents.”

Kit’s eyes nearly popped out. “Twenty-five thousand?” she gasped, before she could stop herself. “I’ll be able to bribe the whole bloody south, and half the eastern barbarians besides!”

“Compensate,” Esmeralda corrected, an amused light dancing in her eyes, overcoming her subdued grief for a moment. “And really, it doesn’t go nearly as far as you think it does.”

“Um. Right.” Desperately struggling to regain her composure, Kit nodded, chattering hastily away. “Twenty-five – right. Compensating them all. Anything else to look for? As long as I’m in the neighborhood, you know?”

“That should be all,” Esmeralda said. “And of course, if you do happen to encounter any of the slavers, your group is authorized to use whatever force is necessary to defeat them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kit replied. “And report to you when I get back?”

“No, dear.” The Mouth’s smile was unusually gentle, and infinitely sad. “You should report to the Archduke. I won’t be here when you return.”

“Wait!” Kit burst out. “You mean that you – you’re really going to – while I’m gone!” Even though the Mouth had said many times that she would be following the old customs of Canberry, Kit had never really been able to bring herself to understand, or believe, that Dame Esmeralda would be committing suicide

“Yes,” Esmeralda said gently. “I’ve already taken longer than I should, but if I’d done it any sooner, my true position might have been suspected. Nobody is supposed to know who the Mouth is, and it would create suspicion if I acted at the same time as the other close advisors. As it is, I’ll just look like a loyal knight taking my place by my lady’s side. By the time you return – and you must return within two weeks, so that you will be back in time for the coronation – everything will be taken care of.”

 

[Ladybird]

When Kit returned to the palace atrium a short while later, a note from the treasury and an ornate bracelet of Sending tucked away in a well-hidden inside pocket, most of the rest of the party had already assembled. She was happy to see Jet among the group of people milling about – she knew that the mercenary/chef had been feeling restless amid all of the ceremonies and restrictions of court, and had been eager to get a chance to get away. She was even more happy to see Mother Honore – for a Glordiadelian priestess, Honore was all right: reliable, trustworthy, friendly, and even had a sense of humor.

Honore was talking to another clergywoman – younger, more fragile, and with a pale exotic intensity about her, dressed in the robes of a Glordiadelian nun. “This is Sister Alessandre,” Honore said, ever polite and proper when making introductions. “And this is Kashan,” she continued, gesturing down to a halfling woman, “who will be assisting us with arcane matters. “Over there is Varya. . .”

“Where?” Kit interjected.

“There.” Honore drew Kit a little closer, and pointed discreetly to a ledge near the side of the atrium, on which rested…

“An owl?” Kit said incredulously, drawing a few stares of her own as her voice echoed around the atrium.

Honore lowered her own voice a little, and leaned in towards Kit to say confidentially, “Yes, Varya is an owl. She talks. Quite intelligently, too, in fact. I’m not sure of the entire story, but I have it on good authority that she will be helpful – she’s helped combat slavers in the past. And there’s also…” Honore trailed off, as the subject of her next bit of advisory discourse drew near.

“Er,” Kit said, looking down at the unmistakable small scaly form of a kobold, and putting on the most polite and least bewildered smile that she could muster. “What’s your name?”

The kobold replied with a nearly unintelligible stream of clicks and trills. Kit looked at Honore, who gave her a small, apologetic smile in return. “He doesn’t speak much Common, I’m afraid. He’s very strongly opposed to slavery, though, from what we can tell.”

“Say that again?” Kit leaned down, cocking her head towards the kobold. Again, the string of clicking sounds and consonants. “Wait! That bit almost sounded like ‘Twang.’ Right. You don’t mind if we call you Twang, do you? We’ve got to call you something.”

The kobold – Twang – shrugged, and scampered back to the other side of the atrium, where it continued fussing over its small, flimsy traveling pack. Kit and Honore stayed where they were, looking with increasing apprehension at the odd, motley group.

“Pardon me,” broke in a strident male voice behind them. They turned to see a tall man, with the light armor and light step – they hadn’t heard him approaching – of someone who spends a great deal of time in the wilderness, but with a rigidly upright bearing. “I am Gyles Lennox, dispatched to help fight this scourge of slavers in the south. Who here is the one leading this expedition?” Kit and Honore glanced at each other uncertainly. “Who here is the ranking noble? That is the one to whom I must report.”

Kit looked around. The mercenary. The two clergywomen. The kobold. The owl. She felt the odd, heavy weight in her pocket of the bracelet by which she would communicate with the capital, and the heavier weight of the sword at her side. She gulped.

“Um. That would be me. Dame Katherine of Lyneham. I – I guess I’m the leader.”

 

[Ladybird]

The easiest and safest launching point for an expedition into the lands south of the border of Canberry was from the city of Brightspan, capital of the duchy of the same name. And the easiest and safest way to get there was via teleport circle. One by one, the group stepped through the circle in the palace in Canberry – or flew, in Varya’s case – and stepped out almost instantaneously into a matching one in a tower just outside the city of Brightspan.

A very young, very bewildered-looking page was the only other person in the room. He looked desperately around, as if hoping that someone else would appear to save him from the duty of dealing with the travelers who had so suddenly appeared in his presence – but no, he was the only one there. “Er. Um. Greetings? Um. Hello?” the page stammered. “I – we – er – welcome you to Brightspan? O noble travelers?” His eyes darted nervously from person to person, trying to figure out which was the proper one to address.

Kit was looking around at the others, too, waiting for one of them to reply – until she remembered that she was the one who was supposed to be in charge. “Greetings,” she said, sidling through the crowd to face the befuddled page, and gave him a friendly, winning smile. “I’m Dame Katherine of Lyneham. We have been sent from the capital on an expedition by the Archduke to combat the slavers in the south. We request safe passage through the city. And, er, we apologize for appearing so quickly.”

“Aha!” came a triumphant voice behind the group. “Fighting slavers! That is why Whimsy has sent me here!” The group turned slowly – Gyles and Kit with their hands creeping towards their swords – to see a tall thin man standing behind them, evidently having come through the teleport circle, although he hadn’t been with them in Canberry. He was dressed in flamboyantly ruffled clothes, wearing a huge plumed hat and the rainbow holy symbol of Whimsy, goddess of chaos. He also carried a long-barreled musket. (Gunpowder in the world of Aphonion only worked through the favor of the goddess Whimsy, but due to her nature, it often had unexpected and unpredictable effects. Also, unpredictable practitioners.) “I am Sir Toby, Musketeer of Whimsy!” the man declared, with a flourish of his gun that set the plume on his hat waving. “I go where the goddess sends me! And she has decided that today is a good day to fight slavers! Yesterday was a good day to eat cheese.”

It would hardly seem possible for the poor page to become more bewildered, but the appearance of the Musketeer of Whimsy seemed to have done it. “Er.” the page faltered, as he turned back to Kit. “Would you be – er – wanting to see Her Ladyship, then, miss? Er, ma’am. Er, m’lady?”

Kit smiled even more sweetly at the page. “Oh, we would be most appreciative of her ladyship’s hospitality.” Kit was getting her momentum back. Keep talking she thought. If I’m talking, he’s not asking questions, and not trying to figure out what we really want with Lady Brightspan “Please do apologize to her for our abrupt arrival.”

The page looked around again, a slight look of desperation in his eyes…and saw that he was the only person in the room besides the new arrivals. There was nobody else for him to send ahead. “I’ll – er – tell her, then. Once we get back to the castle?”

Through the streets of Brightspan City, the page led the group of travelers, drawing quite a few curious stares. Every so often, they passed a group of uniformed soldiers – not unusual, in a city the size of Brightspan, and a duchy whose ruling family was so highly placed in the military. But there was still something…off.

“My lady?” Gyles spoke in a low voice into Kit’s ear, so that she was the only one who could hear, but it still took her a moment to realize that the ‘my lady’ was directed to her.

“Yes?” Kit answered, her voice just as hushed.

“There’s something that isn’t right about the troops.” Gyles glanced around, his eyes wary and troubled. “The uniforms don’t fit properly. Their bearing isn’t right. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something wrong with them.”

“Could they be new recruits?”

“Possibly. Or mercenaries, perhaps. But in that case, what happened to the regulars?”

Kit frowned. “I wish I knew.”

 

[Baron Opal]

Oh no. Oh God no. Not a follower of Whimsy.

*retches*

Kill it while you can.

I wanted so badly to exterminate them, but the other members of the party thought they were cute. "Oh, look at the pretty butterfly wings. Look at the rainbows, all the pretty colors. Pretty, pretty, pretty." Ugh.

Of course, I was practically the only lawful character in a party strongly allied to Chaos.
(The founders of the Courts of Chaos) So, that probably has something to do with it. I at least had respect for the Paranswarmians we butchered.

Whimsy. Feh.

 

[Ladybird]

Oh no. Oh God no. Not a follower of Whimsy.

Hey, now, be nice, Baron Sir Toby proved to be pretty useful to the party at times. Also, pretty entertaining - entertaining enough to persuade a non-gamer spectator that there might be something to this D&D thing after all...

And now, on with the update!

--
Castle Brightspan stood at the heart of the city, in the midst of the oldest part of town. Centuries ago, the castle had been built before anything else was there, and the city had grown up around it. Successive generations had added onto the castle, too, until it was more a sprawling noble residence than a citadel of defense, festooned with elaborate buttresses and turrets and fancy stonework that served no purpose other than decoration.

The interior was similarly ornate, with luxurious carpets down every hallway. Twang poked at them with his (or her? Nobody could tell, and Twang wasn’t saying) bare clawed feet, chattering the whole time. The hapless page was chattering too, scarcely more coherently than the kobold. “I’m sure her ladyship will be very happy to see you. Really. Really she will, honestly – oh, good day, m’lords and m’ladies.” The page broke off abruptly to greet a group of nobles coming the other way, three of whom nodded politely, if a bit uncertainly, in return. The fourth, a thin man walking behind the others, let out a sharp gasp and stepped aside – and, as far as any of the group from Canberry could tell, melted into the wall.

“What was that?” Kit cried, her hand going to her rapier again.

“Amazing place!” Toby declared, poking at the wall near the spot where the man had disappeared, and staring at it in fascination. “The people vanish right into the walls! But wait – what if they come out again? What if there are dozens of people in the walls, just waiting to jump out at us?” He sprang back, plumed hat bouncing and hands going out in a flourishing defensive pose. “I should cast Protection from Wall! No, wait, that’s Protection from Law…”

Meanwhile, Twang was running its hands over the wall, too, still clicking and twittering in its incomprehensible language, while the three other nobles hovered near the edge of the corridor staring with increasing bewilderment at the scene taking place before them, and the poor page desperately continued to try to smooth things over. “Really, nothing is wrong, the walls are completely safe, and shouldn’t we be getting to Lady Brightspan soon?”

Under the cover of all of the chaos, Honore murmured to Kit, “Look there. Halfway up the wall. Do you see that?” Kit narrowed her eyes – and sure enough, just at the spot where Twang was pointing and chattering, there was a slight irregularity in the pattern of the stones. And it was moving up the wall towards the ceiling. Kit paused, took a deep breath, and let her mind open up to pick up the thoughts of the others around her. There, halfway up the wall, and climbing higher by the second, was another mind – a man, intelligent, and slightly disconcerted.

Who would have thought that Alistair would have the guts to send his own people here? the man was thinking. Not surprised that one of the women is leading them, though. Always did have an eye for ladies, that one… Kit focused on him more closely…and as he lifted his head to navigate the corner between the wall and the ceiling, she could finally focus on his face. She’d never seen him in person before, but Dame Esmeralda had made sure she knew what his face looked like. It was Brady, the Brightspans’ chief assassin.

Kit was still looking straight at him when she said, “Really, I think we can be moving on.” She turned her head, even, to make it clear that she was still watching him even after she walked past him. “Strange things happen, Sir Toby. And we wouldn’t want to keep Lady Brightspan waiting. Not when we’ve come all the way from the capital.”

And the group continued on their way down the hall, to the infinite relief of the poor page, leaving the nobles to stare after them in confusion.

 

[Baron Opal]

Sir Toby proved to be pretty useful to the party at times.

Yes, they can be useful. But they're also nauseating.

The cleric of Whimsy that I adventured with had bright butterfly wings and wore bell-bottoms. I think that he started life as an elven magic-user/thief, adventured in Aphonion for a while, and then traveled to the Land. This was run by a mutual friend, known as the Land Lady Linda in our circle of friends. This elf imported the Whimsy faith, got blown up by a vengful djinn that he freed, and then became a ... mutant cleric of Whimsy after living as a tree in the desert for a while.

Did wonders for his persepctive, he tells me.

Of course, I have little room to talk as my magic-user figured out how to transform his flesh into living bronze psionicly. So, there was plenty of self-inflicted mutation all around.