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drnuncheon's Freeport Story Hour - Book II: Inheritance

Session Twelve, Part Five: Conclusion

Special Friday Update! I normally don't post on Fridays since I'm usually too busy planning for the game, but I'm actually ahead of myself for once, so I thought I would not leave you hanging all weekend...

As the Sea Lord's Guard raised their muskets, Di'Fier could hear shots being fired outside. How long has that been going on? And who could they be shooting at? he wondered, mentally swinging the disc of force to cover himself. The blood still ran from the wounds Soderheim had given him, pooling at his feet, and he felt dizzy - there was no way he could remain standing for long.

Dru bent, picking up Soderheim's blade. On her, too, the blood coursed out of her wounds, staining her clothes a violent crimson. She took a step towards the guards, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Arias Soderheim is dead," she stated, her gaze flicking over each of the men. "His attempted coup has failed." The blade swept across the room to encompass all of the Guards in its arc, and Dru took another step forward. "Drop. Your. Weapons."

There was a clatter of metal and wood on the polished stone floor as the quailing Guard did as they were told. Outside, the firing had ceased, and Di'Fier turned as he heard the front doors of the Palace being forced open. His face split into a grin as the first figure through was the familiar form of Quooral Stonecypher, Glunnyn strapped to his back, and much of the rest of the Watch in tow. He could see that several of them were holding pistols and muskets, some still smoking from use.

The Watch moved to secure the prisoners as Captain Donnach approached. "Good work, Watch-Lieutenants." At Dru's look of confusion, he turned to her. "I brought your orders, just in case there was any problem."

Dru pulled Donnach to the side. "What are you doing, Captain?" She looked down at the orders, seeing the smudge his thumb had left when he opned them. Orders for Watch-Lieutenants Dru and Di'Fier to conduct undercover operations posing as renegade Watchmen...

The Captain offered one of his rare smiles. "I didn't want you to think you had burned any bridges. You're too good to be on the other side."

Di'Fier grinned at his teammates as Katya tended his wounds. "Remember what I said at that exercise, when I said I wouldn't make a good criminal? I was wrong. I make a great criminal."

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Dru walked through the halls of the Naïlo safehouse like a ghost. She'd thought that the Captain's claim that she was working undercover would have caused trouble, but it was as if everyone else had something on their minds. One of the elves sat, pale and stunned, holding something in his hand. As Dru approached, he looked up and fear shot through his eyes.

"I swear, it was only talk!" he choked. "I never would have betrayed your father."

Dru looked down at the object he was clutching.

A single rose.

"Do not torment them, Drusilia," came a voice from behind her.

She whirled. "Papa?!" Then she was across the room, colliding with him, wrapping her arms around him. "I thought you were dead!"

Tensin merely nodded, drawing her into his office and closing the door. "That was, after all, the intention. Without the power vacuum caused by my sudden disappearance - a rumor which, despite Kennic's best efforts, still managed to get out - I could not be certain who exactly was planning to move against me."

"And so Galanodel left them all a warning..."

Tensin poured them each a cup of wine, handing one hammered gold goblet over to his daughter. "I trust that Emil has spoken to you already. We had a fascinating conversation."

{i]Emil?[/i] It too her a moment to realize who he was talking about. Since when is Papa on a first name basis with the Captain? "So you gave the weapons to the Watch..."

"I did. They are loud, unsubtle, and frequently explosive. I reasoned that he was more used to dealing with such things than I was." For some reason, his eyes rested on his daughter when he made that remark. "There was a price for the aid, however."

"There always is, isn't there?"

"I asked him to reinstate you to the Watch." At Dru's protest, he raised a hand. "Daughter...we both know your heart is not in my profession. If it had been, you would have been running this organization from the moment of my disappearance - and I may well have stayed gone." He hesitated for a moment, uncharacteristically. "I saw the trouble with the Dragon's Claw as an excuse to bring you back to the fold," he continued. "But the Watch was the life you had made for yourself, and I was wrong to try to take it away from you."

"The Dragon's Claw isn't gone yet, Papa. Ulric got away."

"I have faith that given the newfound cooperation between myself, the other crime leaders," and here Tensin allowed himself a slight smile, "and Emil, we will be able to handle the Claw. Their plan has been defeated - they will hide and lick their wounds for a while.

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Di'Fier lifted the copy of the Shipping News with trepidation, remembering the last time this many council members had died near him and Dru.

"COUNCIL SLAUGHTER LEAVES ROBERTS SEA LORD," read the headlines. So far, so good. Underneath, in smaller type: Criminal Coup Foiled by Undercover Guardsmen.

"Guardsmen?!"

Moments later, the severed halves of the paper were in the fire, along with the splintered remnants of yet another table.

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Ulric Dragosani gripped the edge of the desk, his claws digging furrows in the hard wood. Soderheim dead, Roberts in power, Naïlo rallying the other crimelords against me...what else could go wrong?

The voice that spoke answered that question quite nicely. "Ulric."

The half-dragon looked up, his eyes widening as he saw who it was. "Father?"

"Don't be an idiot. He is far too busy to come oversee your pitiful attempts at revolution. However, those pitiful attempts are exactly why he decided he needed someone he could trust in charge here. Hence, me."

"But I-"

"You are going home. Your father wishes to speak to you."

- End of Session Twelve -
 

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Hey, the good guys won this time!

Well; all's well that ends well.... Right?

Um, Doc; it's ending well, isn't it? Doc? How come the lights are going out all over town?
 

Re: Hey, the good guys won this time!

ShawnLStroud said:
Well; all's well that ends well.... Right?

Um, Doc; it's ending well, isn't it? Doc? How come the lights are going out all over town?

Hey, I'll have you know that it's six months of game time before the next major crisis! The Claw has indeed settled down under its new management - no more fireballs tossed around the city or brutal murders of old women (just the usual quota of bodies turning up in the harbor).

Dru will be posting a couple of things that happened during the downtime - I'll see if she'll put those up this weekend. In the meantime, Di'Fier has also received a letter from a relative he didn't even know he had...*

J

* - well, actually, the relative was mentioned once, at the Guild dinner, but Yr. Humble Chronicler seems to have forgotten to include said event in his retelling of the occurrences there, for which all apologies.
 


Re: On the Letter.

ShawnLStroud said:
Heh. Looks like our duo will be heading for Highgate next.

So, do ALL of your plot hooks have barbs?

Shh! That's supposed to be hidden by the bait!

As to where they're headed next...heh heh heh. Let's just say their trip took an unexpected detour.

J
 


Okay, DrN asked for it, so here it is...:)

Dru strode down one of the halls in the prestigious Gilt Club, following the doorman. Behind her strolled her father, Tensin Naïlo, notorious crimelord, successful businessman, and recently, dutiful father. The doorman opened a door and gestured for them to go in.

The room was brightly lit, with sunlight streaming in through the southernmost windows. It was filled with elaborate furnishings, and comfortable furniture. Sitting in one of the more comfortable chairs was Torsten Roth, one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in Freeport, and the current head of the Merchant’s Guild. His eyes skimmed over Dru, but moved on, locking on her father behind her. He inclined his head stiffly. "Tensin," he said.

Papa nodded to him. "Torsten."

Dru cleared her throat. "Roth, you’re here to business with me, not my father." She sat down in the chair directly in front of him, shifting her weight so that Soderheim’s rapier was in plain sight.

Roth’s gaze was drawn downward to the elaborately decorated, and easily recognizable scabbard. He looked back up to Dru, frowning. The expression did nothing to hide the fact that he was aging at the rate typical of his race.

"It suits me, don’t you think?"

Torsten glanced over her shoulder at Papa, who was seating himself quietly into a chair. When he saw that the crimelord was ignoring him, he sighed, and turned his attention back to Dru. "What do you want?"

Dru raised both of her brows. "Roth, be polite. It never pays to be rude to be rude to one of the people who put the new Sea Lord in place." She smiled at him ferally.

He looked at her, not able to disguise the fear, and yes, the anger, in his eyes. He forced his tone to be more polite, and placating. "Miss Naïlo, if you find my manners to be lacking, I do sincerely apologize. I have been under quite a bit of stress as of late, and I’m afraid that it is starting to wear."

"Mmm," Dru nodded, "I know the feeling." Her tone became more harsh then, with the words, "There for awhile, there were several people in the city that were plotting my father’s downfall. It has left my nerves stretched nearly to the breaking point."

Roth started to look more frightened, his eyes widening, and his skin paling. "A lamentable situation to be in."

Dru nodded. "Sometimes, I sit there at night, unable to settle myself, because I’m too busy thinking of ways to get revenge."

Roth swallowed. "One almost pities those that you have these feelings about."

"Almost," agreed Dru. "Although considering everything, I’m sure that you can’t blame me for not being able to quite...reach that point."

With a sigh, Roth leaned his head into his hands, massaging his temples. "I’ve made what amends that I can to your father," he said wearily, "As he has probably told you. I will most likely be making amends for the rest of my life. Assuming that you are not here to kill me, what is it that you want?"

Dru frowned. "Roth, look at me." When the man looked up at her, she leaned forward, staring him down with her ice colored eyes, so disturbingly like her father’s. "I didn’t kill you, but I probably should have."

Roth stared at her, and then tore his gaze away, looking back at Tensin, who was peacefully studying the folds of the velvet drapes. He asked heavily, "What do you want from me?" His voice raised an octave at the end of the sentence, a sure sign that he was near panic.

"I want for you to undo your treachery. Destroy the Dragon’s Claw, utterly, while you’re at it."

Roth frowned. "I think," he said stiffly, "That you know that’s impossible."

"Yes. I suppose it is, isn’t it? Well, Papa has taught me that asking the impossible is bad business, and I wouldn’t want to do that. I’m sure that you, of all people, can understand that, Roth."

"What do you want?"

"Verlaine’s house."

Roth turned red. "What?!? Why?"

Dru narrowed her eyes at him. "Because you plotted the death of my father. Isn’t that enough?" She continued, "Since no heirs were located, the city is going to put the house on the market in two days. You are going to buy it, and then transfer the title to me."

"You want a loan, then?"

With lightning speed, Dru reached across the foot of space between them, and grabbed the merchant’s jacket collar, pulling him forward so that his face was directly in front of hers. "You are going to buy the house, and then you are going to give the title to me. A gift. My one hundred and eleventh birthday is coming up soon, so it can be an early birthday present." She let go of his jacket then, letting him fall back into his chair.

He stared at her, lips thinning into white lines. "If that is what you wish," he said, forcing the words out, "Then how can I refuse? I will buy the house in two days, and will have the title ready for you to pick up at the guild by that afternoon."

Dru nodded at him. "Good, I’m glad that you see things my way," she said pleasantly. "I’ll see you in two days." She stood to her feet. "Oh, and just so that we are perfectly understood...this purchase does nothing to put you out of my debt. I’ll be seeing a lot of you over the next few years, Roth."

Papa cleared his throat. "And Roth...I do trust that the interior of the house will be very nicely redecorated before my daughter takes possession. As I recall, she left it a little bloodstained last time she was there."

Roth nodded stiffly. "It will be done."

"I like neutral colors," she informed him. "None of the gaudy crap that is in your house."

She rose, turning to look at her father. "Papa, I am ready to go when you are."

He stood, saying, "Of course," and gallantly offered her his arm.

She smiled at him then, much more warmly than she had Roth. "Come, then." She took his arm, and father and daughter strolled from the room. Before the door shut behind them, Dru turned to look into the room. Roth continued to stare after them, the hatred and fear still evident in his eyes.
 
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Interlude

"Strange name for a painter."

The painter in question dragged himself out of his reverie to look at the elf. Leather-clad, sour disposition, well-worn blades on either hip, and an attitude that said "Don't even try." Hardly the sort of person you'd expect to see in a house newly bought by the head of the Merchant's Guild.

"It's a family name," he explained. "My ancestor built the first kiln on the island."

"Mmm." The elf, aparently satisfied, turned his attention elsewhere, but showed no signs of leaving.

The painter turned one eye back to his perusal of the room. Behind him, he could hear the workmen tromping upstairs and down, hauling out rugs and furniture bearing suspicious stains. "I guess Mr. Roth didn't like the Councillor's taste," he ventured.

"Guess not." The elf turned one eye to him for a moment. "Aren't you supposed to be painting a mural?"

The painter licked his lips, nodded. "But...I usually talk to the owner, to find out what sort of thing they want. I mean, if they're going to have this on their wall for years, decades even...you don't want it to be something they hate."

"The owner's busy, she doesn't have time to talk to you."

She? the painter thought. Is Roth buying this house for a woman? She must be some woman... Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the elf straighten, and turned to see a figure walking past.

"Was that...Tensin Naïlo?"

The elf held one long finger across his lips in a sign for silence.
 



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