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

[Baron Opal]

Indeed, tha illithids of Aphonion are a little different. We had some "half-illithids" as retainers in the Courts of Chaos. Spindly guys with four stubby tentacles on their upper lip, they had better than average psionic potential.

I never liked them, but my allies enjoyed their capabilities and messing with their orderly minds.

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

Kit was about to rejoin the interrogation when a neatly groomed young man, dressed in clean but not expensive clothes, approached her. “Dame Katherine of Lyneham? I was asked to give you this.” The boy handed Kit a folded piece of parchment and waited a moment for his tip before leaving without a reply.

Kit opened the message and carefully sounded it out.

Kit-- Three of the grain warehouses have been poisoned, and the sacks are about to come into circulation. These are their locations. --M

She passed the message on to Alistair, who quickly dispatched guards to each of the warehouses with orders to prevent any of the grain from leaving those warehouses until it had been examined for poison. With the urgent tasks taken care of, she rejoined the interrogation.

As Kit returned to the room, Dame Brionna waited to allow her to ask any new questions. She began, however, with a question that Alistair had reminded her about. “What house are you in?”

The Harlequin frowned. “I was of the Cadet House of the Fallen Leaves, but when you join the Society, your house is lost.”

“Just to confirm, do you have any safehouses besides the brothels?”

“No. If you have compromised those, we have no safehouses left.”

Dame Brionna asked, “Did you have anything planned for the grove where the coronation procession begins?”

He smiled coldly. “No, but we wanted you to think we did. Many starting places were possible, but only one end place. Best to target the areas we knew the Archduke would pass through.”

“Did you have orders to assassinate anyone besides the Archduke? Any plans on the Archbishop?”

“No. Your religion is largely meaningless. There are but two gods; lesser beings do not count. But… it would not have been taken amiss if we slew the Lady Constance in the process. I did not see that as likely, however; I cannot imagine her being particularly close to the Archduke as he approached his coronation. You take your way of doing things and your gods as seriously as we take ours, and she would not wish close participation in a ritual of your god of light.”

Dame Brionna’s eyes flashed with anger at the statements about Glor’diadel, but she bit back a retort. Having asked the questions they wanted answered, she turned to upholding their side of the bargain. “What do you wish us to do with your body?”

The Harlequin was unperturbed. “You are beings of honor. I would ask that you find a place where my bones will bring honor instead of dishonor when you destroy this shell.”

“Any preference for how you die?”

“Only that I die before the dust begins to take its revenge.”

Kit asked in confusion, “The dust?”

“For missions such as this, our strength is increased by an infusion of necromantic dust. Once you have begun, there is no withdrawal. It does, however, augment your capabilities substantially.”

“Where does the dust come from?” asked Dame Brionna. “How is it made?”

“It is created in the Tower of Bones in Krashmere, through necromantic processes I have not studied carefully.”

“Did you all use the dust?”

“No. I and the two senior assassins dosed before we came to this place. Within two days of the coronation, it will begin withdrawal. It consumes you from the inside out. The process is said to be exquisitely painful.”

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

“The two senior assassins? Have we captured or killed either of them?” asked Kit.

“As far as I know, they are still at large, but I do not know what has happened since my capture.”

“You said the dust augments your strength. Did you mean physically?”

“Yes, but it also allows one to think faster and cast stronger spells. Sometimes, however, it is not enough.” He glanced around the cell. “Sometimes those who take dust become arrogant, and that is the downfall of all.”

“I have another set of questions,” said Kit. “Was poisoning the grain part of your mission?”

“No, that was done by the Eshen ratfolk. It is really more of a disease than a poison, although I suppose those who are not of elven stock may view things differently.”

“What would it do?”

“It removes moisture from the body and prevents anyone who has eaten a quantity from absorbing additional liquid. It acts as lockjaw. I am glad you have uncovered this, as it would have harmed the innocents for little strategic gain.”

“Do you know anything more about the poisoning?”

“The Eshen bladelord who came here has some odd constraints. His agents made many efforts to poison small quantities of things.”

“What other things besides grain?”

“They poisoned some barrels of ale as well. They could not gain access to the middle city; your efforts against rats ensured that. But they could reach the warehouses in the merchant quarter. Most of their efforts were directed against the grain, however. They thought that would do the most harm, because they believed that even the animals that died of it would be slaughtered and eaten, spreading the disease further. I do not think they have a good sense of humanity.”

Dame Brionna looked at Kit. “We need to deal with this immediately.”

“Yes-- Mahler sent a note describing the poison in the grain supply, so we’ve already sent some people to deal with that. But the poisoned ale is new.” She looked back at the Harlequin. “Do you know where the poisoned ale barrels are?”

“I would tell you if I could, but we did not share that level of detail about our operations, and we had no part in their vile work.”

Dame Brionna replied, “Still, detecting disease or poison is not difficult. We can arrange for the novices to check all of the warehouses and public houses, ostensibly as a means for them to practice their orisons. They should be able to find all of the poison.”

They left the Harlequin in his cell. They kept him alive in case further questions arose but promised to prevent the dust pain from beginning.

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

As the interrogation finished, the first reports came back from the battle in Pottersflat. <<Lady, we have the one we followed in custody.>>

<<How did the battle go?>>

<<It was most strange, lady, and the combat was fierce.>>

<<Did you take losses?>>

<<Among the gliders, yes. We have hang-gliders who fly through the air, to drop nets and such from above. One of the glider pilots was struck by a dart, and there was nothing left of him but dust. There is also now a forty-five foot tall mushroom in Pottersflat…>>

<<Make sure no one eats it! Keep people away from it.>>

<<Oh, we know, lady. We put up a fence of sorts. But it’s moving. At first we thought it was just swaying in the wind, but now it is clear that it is shuffling towards the fence, moving about six inches an hour.>>

<<Was that also someone? Were there other casualties?>>

<<No, lady. That was a horse. After the Harlequin struck the horse with a dart, he was so shocked by its transformation that we were able to get to him before he could act again. But that was after he had gotten to the stash of darts, and done for that glider.>>

<<We’ll send a mage to clean up the mess.>>

The mage eventually reported back. He teleported the darts into a volcano, destroying them completely. As for the enormous mushroom, he tried to polymorph it back into its natural form. This was a little less successful. It was a horse again, but a fourteen foot tall horse, with shelf-fungi in place of its tail. Still, it seemed greatly relieved to be close to its original form.

With the short term crises fairly well dealt with, Kit finally had time to deal with one of the longer term concerns that she had been worrying about. Princess Kaitlyn’s thoughts, as well as a few other things she had heard, suggested that there were negative rumors circulating about Alistair. She spoke with a few of the people in her network and set out to find out precisely what it was that was being said.

The results displeased her greatly. The overall consensus was that Alistair looked remarkably normal for someone that dissipated; if anything, people found it all the more frightening that he could be so personable yet had done those beatings up north. Dreading what she would learn, Kit pressed her contacts for more information. They told her that there were hushed conversations about the condition of some young women along Alistair’s route who he had mistreated badly. If the rumors were to be believed, he had savaged them mercilessly. A few people were also reporting rumors that he had taken a succubus as a lover in the north, but the reports of violence and brutality were much more widespread.

As she widened her investigation, she discovered at least some good news: the rumors were almost entirely limited to foreigners. Among the Canberrans, he was typically simply viewed as having a healthy appetite, with some viewing his escapades as slightly scandalous but the understandable follies of youth, while others viewed it as a sign of vigor and virility that the Archduchy should be proud of. Kit’s agents somewhat awkwardly told her that her identity as his current lover was common knowledge throughout the Archduchy-- the lower classes talked about it openly, often in the most romantic terms, while the upper classes pretended not to know, to avoid any awkwardness when Alistair married, but all clearly did.

Kit burned with anger about the rumors, both horrified by their content and positive that someone was deliberately smearing Alistair’s reputation. Something would need to be done to put the rumors to rest. But before she could plan a counter-campaign, she needed to know who was behind it. Casual questions turned up no definitive answers, but some geographic information. The rumors were almost all among people to the north of Canberry, although a few had spread among the delegations within the City. The further north a group originated, the worse the rumors were liable to be, with the furthest north delegations dreading their coming interactions with a malevolent monster. But the pattern was not uniform-- there were hardly any rumors among the delegations from Masque or Hanal, although that might be a matter of the servants knowing better than to speak of the depravities of the nobles, lest they find out precisely how depraved they could be. Speaking ill of your betters in Hanal is punishable by death, with the cardinal principle that the greater the truth, the greater the libel. Still, it seemed like Enclaves was a likely point on which to focus further investigations.

End Session 16

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

Begin Session 17:

The Council met on the morning of the third day prior to the coronation and reviewed the list of tasks on the to-do list. The list was long, but they focused on the top priority without much difficulty. There were still three Harlequins at large; even though most of them had been defeated, the three remaining posed an enormous threat. They had requested that the officer prisoner examine the bodies that had been recovered, and he confirmed that the two master assassins were not among them.

“I wonder if we could scry on them,” said Dame Brionna. “We have a fair amount of information. A skilled diviner might be able to use that to find their location.”

The rest of the Council agreed that it was worth a try at least, and sent a runner to the Cathedral, because clerical divinations are often more powerful than arcane ones.

Less than an hour later, the diviner arrived at the palace. The diviner wore the vestments of a reverend canon and carefully but unsteadily made his way into the private audience chamber. He was human, but his face was obscured by an enormous pair of gnomish spectacles. With his lanky form and jerky movements, he resembled nothing so much as a robotic scarecrow, complete with straw blond hair sticking out haphazardly from beneath his cap. He drew himself up carefully, and bowed deeply. “Your eminent grace.” As he rose from the bow, however, he squinted carefully at the chair before him and realized that it was, in fact, empty. He looked around the room jerkily, with his head swinging back and forth rapidly, until he realized where Alistair was actually sitting. He repeated the bow, this time honoring the Archduke instead of a piece of furniture. “I am Reverend Canon Byron Toddle. This is an honor I could not have imagined growing up on a chicken farm. How may I be of service?”

Alistair smiled gently at the strange priest. “As you may know, there have been a group of drowan assassins operating within the City, in the garb and makeup of harlequins or clowns.”

“Yes. They have been clouding the prolipsis for weeks. They are slipping through time, they are capable of changing things more than most.”

“Clouding the … prolipsis?” echoed Alistair. “What does that mean?”

“They make it difficult to see things, people, events… I can see the flow of time and the place of people within it, in a way that most cannot. But they make it hard to see things. And they make it hard to perceive the future. Time is like a river. It will divide around a stone. Sometimes it will fork, but by and large it goes forward.”

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

“You can see into the past as well?” asked Alistair. When the Reverend Canon nodded, he asked, “Can you see my mother?”

“Your mother? Your grace, you have no mother.”

Kit sucked in her breath at that response, and reached over to take Alistair’s hand in her own. Alistair clutched her hand tightly and slumped against her, forgetting all decorum and relying on the priest’s vision issues to conceal his weakness.

“But that can’t be…” said the priest. “Of course you must have a mother. But she is blocked from me. I cannot perceive her, or even any of the ripples away from her that you might expect. This is most unusual.”

“It is no matter,” replied Alistair, although both his tone and his affect belied his words. “We should focus on the present.”

Dame Brionna stepped in to cover Alistair’s anguish. “You may know that there have been a group of drow assassins in the City who seek to kill the Archduke. We need to find the ones who remain.”

“Yes, I have seen them. Your response has been brilliant, but there are still three spots.”

“You can see where they are?”

“Where in time. They are concealed in place, but when they act, they can be seen in time. The next will strike tonight.” The canon entered a trance of sorts, quietly describing his vision. “Entering the river, going against the current, meets a short, thin man, who smells of dog. Pays him much coin; then goes through a door, into corridors of granite and marble-- corridors like this palace, your grace.”

“Can you focus on the man?” asked Kit, looking up from Alistair.

“Yes-- dresses in browns and blacks. He lives in a small apartment of rooms with a woman-- I do not think they have received the rites of holy matrimony.” The sudden disapproval in the priest’s voice was almost jarring after the distracted recitation. The canon continued pacing about the room, bumping into things without giving any signs of noticing. “But he has a terrible secret, a habit he cannot escape. It consumes the allowance from the crown, and burns him up, making him thin.”

Kit lifted the image of the man from the canon’s mind. The experience was difficult-- even his surface thoughts were jumbled, concealed by the tumult of images that he perceived at all times. But she was still able to get the image and then broke the connection. He rambled on a little further, and then his eyes rolled back, and he began to convulse, collapsing to the ground in a grand mal seizure. Dame Brionna leapt forward and did her best to aid him. The convulsions continued for a few minutes and then subsided.

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

“What… what happened?”

“You had a fit, Reverend Canon. I think it has passed.”

“Ah. Those happen from time to time. It is part of the price I pay for perceiving the world differently.”

“Glor’diadel gives you a special light to see things with.”

“Yes. It is not without its problems. But it sometimes lets me save people… When I had first taken orders, I hoped the visions would stop. But a child fell into a well near the seminary, and my visions allowed us to rescue her. I stopped praying that Glor’diadel would take away my visions after that.”

“Can you see anything more about the Harlequins? Perhaps where they went when they went into hiding?”

“They exited after a great deal of violence, went down into the darkness and were gone--gone, utterly. Most unusual, but they can pull shadows over themselves. But now he has re-entered my sight. About the place they left from… I do not recognize it, nor its like. A large meeting room, with expensive furniture, and many couches and lounges as well as chairs, all stuffed to overflowing. Many beautiful women pass through from time to time, and in the most scandalous of dress…”

Kit smiled at the priest’s confusion; his obliviousness to what he was seeing was almost endearing, and at least she didn’t have to drag the information out as she had with her scribe. “Yes, we know about that place. That was one of the brothels that they were using as hide-outs.”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose that that would make sense…” The reverend canon made the sign of the sun as he shook his head at the rampant sinfulness. “Beyond that, I can see nothing of those assassins.”

“Can you tell if any of them took the dust?” asked Dame Brionna.

“It is hard to see, and my visions of that may be jumbled. I believe that the one who comes tonight has, but neither of the other two have.” Reverend Canon Toddle turned to look at Alistair, or at least in his general direction. “If you survive the next few days, your grace, you will be remembered as one of Canberry’s most successful rulers, along with your grandmother.”

“What are his grace’s chances for survival?”

“I should say that he has about three chances in four of surviving, although a great trial awaits him on the other side of his investiture. I am glad that you are asking me now, for it would have been more like one in four at the time of his grandmother’s death.”

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

“Is the great trial about seven months away?” asked Kit.

“Yes. Two great eyes, green, watch from a great distance away.”

“Are the eyes cat-like?”

“Yes, and about the eyes are many cats and many women.”

“We know about that threat, then,” said Dame Brionna. “We may have more questions on it later, but for now let’s stay focused on the threats between now and the coronation. Are there other threats besides the drow assassins?”

“Besides those… You have been very successful at clearing most of the threats out, but some there are that still remain. A hidden assassin, a woman.”

“Not the King of Gates’s sister?” asked Alistair, knowing that he would be meeting her later that day.

“No… She is not among those you court. But she has entered the City and is here now. She is insane, and has been primed to do that which she will attempt to do when she meets you.”

“When will she meet his grace?” asked Dame Brionna.

“She does not know, so I do not know. It will be at a public event-- it must be, for she is not of status. I could describe her, but she could disguise herself.”

“If you could form the image in your mind, I can lift it out as I did with the servant,” replied Kit.

“Yes, that would be best.”

Kit concentrated. “I have the image.”

The Reverend Canon ignored Kit and continued talking. “She is beautiful, but not of unearthly beauty. Wealthy, but not noble. Young, but no younger than the Archduke. Her hair is mahogany and waist length. She has reasonable taste in clothes, but is wearing little jewelry except for a bracelet etched in the shape of a lynx’s head.”

“A lynx’s head?” asked Alistair, suddenly looking up and paying full attention. “That suggests that she is also associated with the Abomination of Shur.”

“She wants to kill the Archduke for revenge.”

“We’ll have to be extra careful with this one,” said Dame Brionna, “since we can’t predict when she’ll strike. What about the assassin who’s coming tonight? Will he strike at the Archduke directly?”

“No, his target is a woman. No, your grace, not Kit,” added the priest, sensing more than seeing the look of concern. “She is a stalwart pillar in time.”

“We’ll need to place extra guards on Princess Cecilia,” said Dame Brionna firmly. “She’s a very logical target.”

“And on Lady Constance,” added Alistair, “as well as around yourself.”

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

“What about the other assassins? Will you be able to give us warning before they strike?”

“It will be difficult. They are hidden from me, but they will need to emerge to strike, and I will be able to see them then. But the window will be small.”

“How small?” asked Kit. “Are we talking days or minutes?”

“Longer than minutes, but much less than days… I will not know for certain until they appear.”

“Besides the woman and the three drowan assassins, are there any other threats we need to worry about before the coronation?”

“There are no other credible threats. The Green Eyes to the south will watch but will not act, and you have cleared the rest. Three pockets of disease remain, but they have been abandoned.”

Dame Brionna turned towards Alistair. “Your grace, with your permission, I would like to begin preparing the increased security.”

Alistair nodded. “And work with the Eldar to set up a trap for the assassin. I bet we can quickly identify which servant they bought off, and we should be able to have an elven welcoming party when the assassin arrives.”

Dame Brionna nodded, but before she had a chance to leave, there was a polite knocking on the door. Alistair thanked the diviner and dismissed him before Kit opened the door. An elderly man, from Aunt Cecilia’s social circle, such as it was, waited in the hall with a bulky package.

“Your grace? Princess Cecilia requests that you not forget your appointment with the Princess of the Cities of the Gates. She also suggested that you wear something along the lines of these clothes.”

Kit took the package and opened it, looking in surprise at the clothing within. The clothes were stiffer than the styles Alistair typically favored, with many details borrowed from military uniforms. To Kit’s eyes, they all looked hopelessly out of fashion. “Why would she suggest that? Alistair looks much better in his normal clothes.”

“Because of the nature of the Cities of the Gates, Dame Katherine. It would show that he is a person of strength and determination. Gates is very traditionalist and stiff-- more the men than the women, but some of the older women as well. With the Dowager Queen as the princess’s chaperone, it would be helpful if his grace appeared strong with a military bearing.”

Alistair nodded. The reasoning made too much sense, and there was no point in giving up the advantage it might bring. “Thank my aunt for her suggestion, and tell her that we will be ready on time. I may not wear precisely the outfit that she suggested, but we will still create the effect she wants.”

* * *

No promises on updates until Monday. I'll be at a con (actually, the same con where this campaign started, and we'll be playing some Canberry adventures, although with the downstairs characters, not this group). I'll update if I have net access.

 

[Cerebral Paladin]

The Council set to work dressing Alistair for best effect. The cavalry frock coat that Aunt Cecilia suggested worked well, although Alistair accentuated the military effect by wearing his mithril chain shirt so that the mail was visible beyond his sleeves, at his collar, and at his thighs. They rejected several of the other garments Cecilia suggested as too passe, and he added his cloak for its magical charisma boosting effect. Fortunately, that same magic made it look appropriate in essentially any ensemble.

“We’ll need the right accoutrements. I suppose wearing a helm indoors would be too much?” asked Alistair.

“Definitely,” said Kit, while Dame Brionna nodded agreement. “We want you to look manly, strong, and militant, not silly and pretentious.”

“And wearing an actual crown, which would be the next best, would be inappropriate before the coronation.”

“Maybe we can find a good coronet? The thin style that your grace usually favors wouldn’t do, but we might be able to find a heavier, older style coronet that would.”

“An excellent idea. I’m sure there’s something appropriate in the Treasury. Can you take care of that? And while your there, get me a good bastard sword and a nice baldric.”

Dame Brionna looked dubious. “You know that bastard swords require extensive training? I really think you would be better off with a rapier, or even a long sword… your grace,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“Of course I know that. If I were actually planning on fighting, I would bring my spiked chain. But while courting can be trying and difficult, I really don’t think we’ll end up in a battle. But I need to look like I could be. They’ll sneer at me if I don’t wear a sword, and a nice, heavy bastard sword will make the best impression-- much better than a rapier would, since they would view that as effete. So we want a nice, functional bastard sword-- decorated and with enchantments, but a combat weapon, not a dress one.”

“Very well, your grace. I suppose I can give you some pointers on moving comfortably while carrying a large sword.”

“I think I’ll be able to handle that. I was given appropriate training for a noble as a youth, you know.”

“Yes, your grace,” replied Dame Brionna, still sounding skeptical.

After worrying about a few more details, they were satisfied with Alistair’s look. To the Council, used to the cosmopolitan fashions of Canberry City and Enclaves, the overall effect was almost comically belligerent. But it fit the impression they wanted to create. Dame Brionna’s dress was much easier-- she would simply wear her heavy armor with a functional field tabard, and carry a full kit of weapons as if she expected to go into battle. And Kit had the easiest time: since she would be watching from a secret position behind the wall, she could wear her standard functional leathers.