Dark Heart of Arkravia

[Ralts Bloodthorne]

Frella

The Lagoo slave leads the Bishop into the palace, past the wrecked gates that were blown down by the cannon that the marines wheeled in on a carriage. A few of the lagoo slaves that were pulling the gun-carriage are being treated for their wounds, but the heavy chainmail they had been wearing had largely held up, and besides, there's more where they came from. Several Lagoo are swabbing out the cannon's barrel, the cotton wadding black with unburnt gunpowder. Past the gates is the main hallway, where the bloodstains are covered in sand that is currently being swept up by Lagoo. The heretical banners are torn down, and Frella knows that they were thrown in the bonfire out in the courtyard.

In the throne room the banners and other decorations of the pirates and heretics have been removed, and slaves are putting up banners of Father Church as well as banners of the Empire and a portrait of the Empress herself.

Sitting on a pile of cushions is the Lord Bishop himself, a large man with a florid face, a nose full of broken veins, piercing black eyes, and long black hair who is surrounded by his assistants and scribes. As Frella walks into the throne room the Lord Bishop leans back on the cushions and waves a hand at one of the green skinned lagoo girls so that she goes back to fanning him.

"Take the heretic away and have him burned at the stake. Have his women and wealth divided up among the valiant marines who broke the back of the resistance and place his children in the care of Father Church once they have been renamed to absolve them of their sins." He says, his voice deep and slow. He sees Bishop Frella walking into the palace throne room and gestures at the cushions next to him.

"Bishop Frella, welcome. Seat yourself, by your pleasure, for judgements are finished." He says, nodding sagely.

An invitation, polite as it may be, from the Lord Bishop, is nearly a commandment from God.

Smythe

The church soldiers look at the gathered marines, eyes on the wicked and cruel sawblades on the back of the cutlass-like blades and the leveled musket held by the hard eyed Scout Captain. One sets the musket carefully on the table, and the others slowly follow suit, careful not to move too suddenly and provoke any more violence.

The older marine kicks at the church soldier dying at his feet and looks over at the tuskanini's. "Drag this trash outside." He grins, revealing steel teeth. "Anything on them you can share with your sisters, tuskanini."

The lagoo women nod gratefully, rushing forward to pull the five dead church soldiers out of the tavern.

The officer peers back over the window, sees that the violence has been defused, and climbs into the 'tavern' again, holding tight to his feather plumed hat.

"Church soldiers, form up. Since you are so eager to prove yourselves in combat, you can accompany the marines into the jungle." He snarls out. He stares at Smythe and swallows thickly, almost as if he recognizes the big Scout Captain. "By your leave, Scout Captain."

 

[Wolv0rine]

Frella

Frella gives a short, formal bow from the waist before stepping up to the proffered cushions and easing himself down onto them.

"Your Eminence is most gracious. The boons of God be upon you, as always."

He reaches out an arm without looking, the assumption that a glass a wine will be placed in his hand completely unquestioned, and waits for the Lord Bishop to speak.

...

Smythe

Smythe winces slightly at the officer's words as he leans his musket once more against the edge of the table and lowers himself back into the chair, but decides not to refuse the soldiers' order to join him in the field.

Reaching for his cup again he looks back to the marines and smiles again.
"To your health, lads!" he bellows, and empties the cup down his throat.

 

[Ralts Bloodthorne]

Frella

The Lord Bishop nods sagely, folding his hands over the sash across his rock solid stomach. One of the Lord Bishop's personal servants puts a glass of fine wine in Bishop Frella's hand and two of the young servants, their brands still red and swollen, move to fan the large Bishop as he reclines on the cushions.

"As you know, Bishop Frella, sin is everywhere. The Six Unnamed Ones seek constantly to stain good men's souls with sin, to tempt even the basest Lagoo or mighty Shragma or even the most pious churchman into sin with whispers of heresy, madness, and sin." He looks toward the shattered doors, his obviously on the courtyard where the Lord Admiral still smoulders. "The souls of the servants of Father Church and the Holy Empress are in our charge, and we, the servants of Father Church, are all that stand between their souls and sin." He sips on his wine and allows one of the serving girls to deposit a date in his mouth before continuing.

"I understand that you have cultivated a 'relationship' with the rather infamous Scout Captain Smythe." Lord Bishop continues on without waiting for an answer. "While his methods are often self-aggrandizing, he is a good and faithful son of Father Church, and he will undoubtably be our insight into how well the men hold up in this benighted and dark land." He waves his hand at the palace. "Once you have relaxed from the trials of reaching the palace and inspected your quarters, Bishop, I shall speak with you further." He waits a moment, then continues. "Additionally, tomorrow will be when we will bless the treasures taken from the heretics so that they may be properly handed out, as well as handing slaves out to those who have distinguished themselves in pacifying this den of heresy."

He nods again, his long thick beard moving like an animate shrub. "Today, see who is worthy of slaves and treasure, and who will be attempting to claim more than they deserve in the eyes of Father Church."

Smythe

The marines raise their mugs: "To the Scout Captain and Father Church!" They call out, the younger ones slamming their fists against the thick chainmail on their chest.

"Well, lads, you heard the Scout Captain, form up." The one with one ear says, pouring out the last of his drink and standing up. He looks at the tuskaninis. "Girls, get this place fit to drink in. Anyone try to tell you to leave, or stop what you're doing, tell them Lord Sergeant Vikolus set you to straightening this place out." He looks at Smythe. "Might we add your name to that, Scout Captain?" He gives a big grin. "After all, we don't want no church army officer coming in here and making coin-girls out of perfectly servicable barmaids or deciding this place is for officers or church soldiers anyway."

 

[Wolv0rine]

Frella

Frella sips his wine delicately as he listens to the Lord Bishop, nodding when the Lord Bishop pauses and adding the occasional "Of course".

When the Lord Bishop has finished, Frella gives a quick glance around the room and says "Will a meal be served soon, or has the buffoon I attempted to have bring me here caused me to miss it?"

...

Smythe

Finishing his mead, Smythe slams the cup down on the table with satisfaction and stands.

"I insist you add my name to that order Lord Sergeant! This place will never do in this condition, and even Father Church can't fault a good man for wanting to have a nice place to drink and relax. And while you're at it, girls, the place needs something to make it special. Something grand and manly, antlers maybe."

Smythe flashes the girls an extra-broad, toothy grin, rolling up the sleeves of his heavy red shirt.

"Make sure it's nice when we get back, I know you'd hate to let me down."

 

[Ralts Bloodthorne]

Frella

The Lord Bishop nods, and one of the lagoo women wipes his forehead of the sweat that has beaded there. "Dinner will be served later, once this abominable heat has lessened somewhat." He points toward the stairs, where Juvenna, one of Bishop Frella's personal servants, is moving down toward the throne room. "I do believe she is one of yours, is she not? Ensure that your quarters are to your satisfaction." He turns to one of the newly branded servants. "Accompany his eminence, in case he has need of something to make his personal quarters in this crude place a proper place of residence for one of his stature."

Juvenna stops in front of Frella, going down on her knees and prostrating herself. "We have unpacked, as you are accustomed to, your eminence." She says, her forehead pressed against the floor tile.

Smythe

"Yes, milord." The matronly tuskanini says. She turns to the others. "Gather antlers from the shop down the street, their lordships wish the decorations to be antlers."

"You, Spear Carrier Uvensen, stay here, ensure that nobody attempts to disturb the tuskaninis or this place." The Church Army officer says, obviously trying to keep some authority. "The Scout Captain is correct." He turns and waves at the door, bowing gracefully as he does so. "If you and your marines will be so kind as to accompany us, I believe they are almost ready to make sure that none of the heretics escaped into the jungle."

Outside, from the gate, the sound of officers blowing whistles can be heard over the background of grieving wailing, the crackling of flames, and the sporadic gunshot.

 

[Wolv0rine]

Frella

Frella nods one last time to the Lord Bishop before standing and walking down the steps.

"Come along, Juvenna. I must examine my apartments before seeing to my duties. God's work waits for no man."

With that he walks off in the direction Juvenna approached from, confident she will gather the other slavegirl and rush to show him to his quarters.

...

Smythe

Smythe picks up his musket and turns toward the door, a hearty laugh swelling his barrel chest.

"With any luck some of them did just that! It'll give me a chance to explore this new world while I hunt them down. We'll just swing by wherever my chests were put so I can don my armor, and then we can be off properly, eh?"

Smythe turns to the marines,

"Say, what do I call you lads?"

 

[Ralts Bloodthorne]

Frella

The palace walls are a study in debauchery and heathen ways. Artwork depicting Lagoo and heathen men and women involved in things better left in private as Lord God intended, gold and silver inlay on the black wood paneling, and rich carpets (obviously taken by pirates) on the floor. Glass lamps line the walls, casting a soft light in the hallway as Frella walks down the passage. He can hear two sets of footsteps behind him, quiet and demure, and chooses to ignore the gasp of shock from the girl who stays behind him as Juvenna moves in front of Frella to show him the way.

Frella's quarters are on the third floor, and when he steps through the doorway (ignoring the bare hinges giving mute testiment as to why the door is empty) he can see that the room is richly appointed. His private altar is set up on the north wall, as is proper, the wardrobes are open to show that his servants have properly put away his clothing and rainments, and his personal little knicknacks he gathered during the Great Third Crusade are tastefully placed about the suite. On the right is small room that obviously acts as an office (and has a door connecting to the hallway) due to the desk and the fact that Frella's servants have set his scribing materials in the proper places. On the left is a full bathroom, seen through the open doorway, with a steaming steam bath with two pools of water within.

When Frella enters his servants all prostrate themselves on the floor, awaiting the commands of the Bishop.

Smythe

"We were with the Fourth Imperial Marine Expeditionary Force aboard The Empress's Piety, Scout Captain." The one eared one tells you. Smythe remembers that The Empress's Piety went down during a storm and rumor had it that only a few men managed to survive the stormy seas. "I'm Force Sergeant Grathant," He nods toward the marine who kept avoiding bloodshed. "That is Squad Master Hravak. The rest of the squad I'll introduce if you wish as we head for the gate."

Before Smythe can ask why they aren't wearing any insignia, or any sashes Hravak speaks. "I took the liberty of having the men remove all rank markings and anything else that might distinguish them in case any pirate sappers are hiding."

"Plus our kits and lockers went down the The Petey." One of the men says, grinning.

When Smythe steps out of the 'tavern', he sees one of his personal servants, Klortha, kneeling properly beside the door, his personal insignia (cast in silver taken from caravans he had helped liberate during the Third Great Crusade, as was befitting a man of his skills and reputation) gleaming in the sunlight to prevent anyone from trying to abscond with her or have her done some chore that might divert her from her owner's instruction. Seeing the insignia on Smythe's boot she moves her hands from her knees and presses them against the ground.

"Your quarters have been selected and are being cleaned." The Lagoo woman says. Unlike most of the slaves she wears a elaborate gold choker, encrusted with small gems and semi-precious stones, of Lagoo make around her neck instead of the iron or leather slave collars. Her clothing is finer than most slaves as well as clean and well tended. She is also smiling, her tusks are polished and have small silver caps on them. "Your armor and weapons await."

 

[Wolv0rine]

Smythe

Smythe smiles down at Klortha, reaching down to gently pat the well-combed blonde hair atop her head.

"Excellent! See there, Grathant? Treat them right and they meet your needs before you even ask. Well don't kneel in the dirt all day getting your clothes dirty, come along."

Smythe struts confidently down the street, never stopping to think that he didn't ask where the quarters he ordered she find him are, and pulling a long ivory pipe from a pouch at his belt before placing it firmly between his teeth.

 

[Wolv0rine]

Frella

Frella finishes inspecting his quarters before approaching Juvenna.

"I need to head out to discharge my duties. As usual, those duties will likely entail the gifting of some coin. Go find the Lord Bishop's clerk and have him issue me a pouch of silver, and a pouch of copper from the Church's funds, then bring them to me."

He then goes to the wardrobe, choosing a suitably austere, and clean set of clothes before moving into a private chamber to change. Once properly dressed, he makes his way out of the palace and out into the square.

 

[Ralts Bloodthorne]

Smythe

Walking down the street Smythe spots another of his servants standing next to a door of a stone and wood building that looks as if it might have been one of the early buildings of the pirate port. There are a pair of large twisted horns atop the doorway, which is wide open.

"Armor or ale? Both prepared." The servant says, looking down but smiling widely. "Caught chickens. Egg breakfast. Trabith very fast, catch before others."

Inside the building it is obvious that it was once a lodge type, perhaps even a fest-hall. Unfamiliar antlers and skins adorn the walls, mugs are hung behind a bar that one of the slaves is polishing while smiling behind. Smythe's leather, studded with strips of metal to possibly stop musket balls, cannon shrapnel, or blades, is well cleaned and laying on the bar. The notched belts at the upper arms and thighs on the armor, used to slide over a wound and compress it or tie off a severed limb, are laid out with the buckles gleaming.

One of the marines whistles at the fact that Smythe has taken the building for himself, as well as the high quality dresses on his slaves, their jewelry, and their smiling faces.

"Welcome home, Scout Captain Smythe." Three of the Lagoo women, sitting on a table in front of the fire, call out in unison, smiling and waving.