"Out of the Frying Pan" - Book II: Catching the Spark (Part Two) - {complete}

I plan to do smaller installments for this session:
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Session #28

Osilem, 10th of Dek - 564 H.E.

The next morning Martin the Green had already been up for three hours (after only two hours of sleep) when there was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Martin called through the door.

“Breakfast,” said a muffled voice.

Martin walked over to the door and unbolted it. He opened it to find a tall figure standing there. He wore robes of various shades of crimson, and had matching hair, and a well-kept beard and bright blue eyes that off-set his rugged good looks. He held a tray full of eggs, strips of fatty bacon, biscuits, butter and goat’s milk. It was Richard the Red. He smiled.

“Why Richard! Why don’t you come in?” Martin said resignedly. He felt as if nothing could surprise him anymore. He turned and walked back into the inn and pulled a chair from the table. “Please, sit down.”

Richard walked in and set the tray on the table. “No, thank you. I am more of the standing type.” The red–robed watch-mage’s smile broadened.

“And how have you been?” Martin asked. “Well, I hope.”

“Do you really?” Richard the Red almost laughed. “Well, I am worried that you are not doing well. You look like you are not doing well at all.”

“What makes you say that?” Martin utterly failed to bluff.

“It’s okay Martin, we’re fellow watch-mages. We can talk to each other honestly.”

“Of course we can,” Martin said, returning a big fake smile.

“Listen, I was where you are once. I know what you are going through,” Richard said with real sympathy in his voice. “It takes a lot to get from where you are when you graduate and where I am now. But you, too will make that journey.”

“Yes, and then I’ll be able to free drow witches of my own,” Martin replied, sarcastically.

“Oh, I guess you still haven’t seen the light on that one,” Richard said, picking up a biscuit from the tray and ripping it in half. “I guess we are just going to have to agree to disagree on that one. I am not exactly happy with the mess you and your companions made and now I’m going to have to help clean it up.”

“I’m not sure that this is the kind of thing one can simply agree to disagree about,” Martin said, folding his hands on his lap, as he watched Richard smear butter on the two ends of the biscuit, and then fold an egg and a piece of bacon between them.

“Look, I am here to help you,” Richard said, gesturing with the egg sandwich. “Being a watch-mage is not easy. You cannot be expected to get the hang of it right away, but the truth is, I think you are doing a really pathetic job.”

Richard the Red took a small bite of his sandwich.

“Kind of you to say so, “ Martin said, standing.

“I’m just being honest, Martin,” Richard said. He took another bite and offered the sandwich towards Martin. “You should eat something.”

“I am not hungry,” Martin flatly.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s good to keep your strength up. Today in an inn, tomorrow under a tree and the next in a damp cave, that is what our life is, and what your life will be from now on,” Richard said, gravely.

“I am not hungry,” Martin repeated.

“Suit yourself,” Richard the Red replied. “So, I have come here to offer you a deal.”

“Humph,” Martin shook his head, as if he knew it was coming. “I’m not sure that a deal with you would be in my best interest, Richard.”

“But it is your best interest that it most concerns,” Richard said, smiling again. “Look, just to show you I mean you no harm, I will give you one for free.”

“One what?”

“On piece of advice,” Richard said. “I get your friend free, and for that she owes me, but I was really trying to help you out, so you can go on your way and do the important things you have to do.”

“But you charmed the constable,” Martin exclaimed.

“Yeah, and?” Richard cocked his head. “Sometimes these things have to be done. It harmed no one, but now all your companions are imprisoned, except for one who is on the run and what are you doing? You are sitting around doing nothing!”

“I am not doing nothing,” Martin replied, insulted. “I am waiting for a horse, which I plan to take back to 12 Trolls and see the king and get this thing sorted out.”

“Oh, so you have a death wish, too?” Richard cocked an eyebrow. “The roads are dangerous to one who cannot travel unseen.”

Martin was silent.

“Anyway, what I am trying to tell you is that a watch-mage’s greatest asset is his ability to talk to the common people,” Richard said. “The common person is in awe of us. They are either scared and respectful or polite and respectful, but either way you need to use that to your advantage. You can gain your most powerful tool. Information.”

Martin nodded hurriedly.

“I’m sure you know Alexandra the Lavender,” Richard said. (114)

“Yes, I met her on the way to Gothanius,” Martin replied.

“Well, some folks might see a simple woman living among simple farmers in some backward place, but do you think I’d ever mess with her? No way,” Richard looked Martin in the eye. “And do you know why? Because she is connected. She knows more about Derome-Delem than you or I could ever hope to know, because she talks to everyone in her town, and every dwarven caravan that passes through, and every group of adventurers, and every wandering stranger. You think that talking to aldermen, kings and constables is going to get you all the information you need? Talk to the people. They are more observant than you think. They may not comprehend what they see and be able to put it together, but you sure as hell are smart enough to be able to.”

“This is your free advice?” Martin asked.

“Yes,” Richard said, with a wink. “And there is more where that came from if we can come to some kind of agreement.”

“What kind of agreement?” Martin asked.

“You only stand to benefit from what I have to offer,” Richard said. “Basically, in exchange for full disclosure between us in terms of everything we learn about what is going on around here, and that means I tell you what I know as well, I will take you under my wing. I will show you the ropes about what it really means to be a watch-mage. Think of this as your post-graduate education.”

“And benefit from this, how?” Martin asked, skeptically.

“We are watch-mages. We are supposed to help each other. Especially a senior watch-mage like myself and a neophyte like yourself – you have everything to gain and nothing to lose.”

“And what about the drow witches?” Martin asked.

“What about them? I already told you I plan to clean up that mess,” Richard said. “Of course, I hope eventually you and your companions might help.”

“And when the time comes when you want to do something else that I find morally reprehensible?” Martin asked.

“As you learn more such a thing is less and less likely to happen. And at any time you can simply walk away, of course,” Richard said.

Martin contemplated the offer.

“I do not expect you to make this immediately,” Richard said. He walked towards the door. Martin stood to see him out. “Let’s discuss it again over lunch. Think well, Martin. Your entire career as a watch-mage may rest on this one decision.”

He left.

Martin flopped down on the bed and buried his face in his hands.

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Notes:

(114) Martin the Green met Alexandra the Lavender on his way to the Kingdom of Gothanius in the village of Bountiful, where she is watch-mage.
 

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Perfect

The next morning Martin the Green had already been up for three hours (after only two hours of sleep) when there was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Martin called through the door.

“Breakfast,” said a muffled voice.

Martin walked over to the door and unbolted it. He opened it to find a tall figure standing there. He wore robes of various shades of crimson, and had matching hair, and a well-kept beard and bright blue eyes that off-set his rugged good looks. He held a tray full of eggs, strips of fatty bacon, biscuits, butter and goat’s milk. It was Richard the Red. He smiled.

“Why Richard! Why don’t you come in?” Martin said resignedly. He felt as if nothing could surprise him anymore. He turned and walked back into the inn and pulled a chair from the table. “Please, sit down.”

I loved it, this is exactly the perfect thing to happen next. As if Martin didn't have enough to worry about, a villianous wizard stops by to give some friendly advice.
 

Does Richard the Red know how to make an entrance or what? Fanfares are for amateurs. It's so much more menacing when he simply shows up.
 



For those of you interested in the PBP game I have dubbed "The Supporting Cast" - Please send me an email with what your first choice is and what your second choice is and maybe an idea of how you see the characters and what you could bring to them. I guess that will the best way to make a choice - because otherwise it would just be random, which I don't think anyone would be happy with.

I have started this thread on the Aquerra boards to get things rolling.
 


Session #28 (part II)

Morning found Beorth, Jana, Jeremy and Kazrack waking achingly from the lumpy cots of their cells. A guard was passing bowls of thin brown gruel to the tiny shelf space in the metal bars of the cell.

“Wake up!” the guard called. “Breakfast!”

“Thank you very much for the meal,” Kazrack said, rubbing his eyes. “It is kind of you to give us such fare.”

“Well, you’re in a good mood today,’ Jeremy said to the dwarf, sniffing at his bowl of gruel and grimacing. “Yuck. This is the same whipped dung they gave us yesterday for dinner.”

“They are only doing their jobs,” Kazrack replied. “No reason to be rude to them.”

Kazrack slurped down the gruel hungrily.

The guard left out the door at the bottom of the hall.

“I hate this place,” Jeremy said. “We came all the way here just to end up in jail, when we were trying to avoid that in the first place.”

“We were?’ Beorth asked, he still had not decided if he was going to eat the gruel.

“Yeah, I mean, then why did we leave town the way we did?” Jeremy asked.

“”If you want out of here so bad why didn’t you go with Ratchis?” Kazrack asked.

“I was restrained,” Jeremy said in a tone, as if to imply that the dwarf were dumb.

“Were your feet restrained?” the dwarf asked, he slurped bits of gruel from his beard.

“Well, ya know what?” Jeremy was flustered. He slammed down his bowl. “No, never mind.” The blonde Neergaardian sat on his cot and sulked.

“I think we just need to explain that Jana came to us in the inn, and we didn’t know anything about her being broken out of prison,” Kazrack said.

“Which, while true…” Jana began.

“I think it needs to be emphasized that there are quaggoths in the Honeycombe underneath the town,” Beorth said.

“And maybe we should let the authorities know about the drow,” Kazrack added.

“I think that might endanger the elves,” Jana said.

“Yes, but I think at this point it is best for us to simply tell the truth,” Kazrack said.

“Ah-ha!” Beorth said.

Kazrack looked over at the paladin with an annoyed look, but then craned his head to look at Jana. “Did you know Richard used magic to break you out?”

“No, I did not ask what he did,” Jana replied.

“Why didn’t one of you magic guys say that this was a possibility?” Kazrack asked.

“Well, it is too late now,” Jana said.

“Well, it isn’t even guaranteed that we will stay in jail or even that this fellow will get to take Jana away,” Jeremy said, laying back on the cot. “I mean, they have to have evidence, right?”

“Evidence?” Jana exclaimed. “Where were you raised? The justice system doesn’t work like that.”

“Well, how did we allegedly break you out?” Jeremy asked, sitting up again. “There were no dead guards or anything, right?”

“The fact that there were no dead guards means nothing when you realize that several representative of the law witnessed Ratchis free himself, Kazrack and Jana with a single word,” Beorth said, plainly. He took a spoonful of the gruel and then put the bowl down. Even the tasteless paste the monks served he had had for breakfast all his life was better than this stuff.

“So we tell them how desperate the situation is,” Kazrack said. “We explain that we were trying to save the town if not the kingdom, or even all of Derome-Delem from an invasion of drow.”

“Uh-huh, that will work,” Jana said, sarcastically.

“As far as I see it, the people here do not have the resources or the wherewithal to go after the elves anyway,” Jeremy said.

Everyone contemplated the chances.

“As far as my situation goes I am screwed, totally screwed,” Jana said with a sigh.

Beorth and Kazrack were taken aback by her use of language.

The guard returned to collect the bowls and spoons. He paused by Jana’s cell. “You know that guy that was looking for you is in town,” he said to her.

“Uh, Rindalith?” Beorth asked, overhearing.

“He’s a really nice guy. He bought all the guards drinks and the inn last night,” the guard continued.

“Yeah, that’s the kind of thing he does,” Jana said, and sat on her cot.

As the guard left, Jeremy got on his knees by his cot and folded his hands in prayer. “Hey, Osiris! I know you brought me back and everything, but if you could see your way clear to send me a little help right now, I’d really appreciate it.”

Jana laughed, and Kazrack rolled his eyes.

Meanwhile, Martin had decided to give Richard the Red’s advice a chance…
 


Session #28 (part III)

“Wilson, there may be a horse sent over for me this morning,” Martin the Green told the innkeeper. “Please keep it for me until I return, I may be delayed.”

“Yes, sir,” the innkeeper replied.

Martin turned to leave, thinking he’d spend the morning pressing the flesh and seeing what he could learn from the locals, but turned back suddenly.

“Wilson?” he asked.

“Yes, sir?”

“What have you heard about what is happening with my companions?” the watch-mage asked.

“Oh, well sir,” Wilson began, combing his graying mustache with his little finger. “Only what the constable said the day before last, all about your one pig-fu---, I mean, the half-breed escaping and beating the guards senseless with his inhuman strength.”

Martin had to keep himself from smirking.

“Yes, they have posses looking for him now, but they haven’t been able to find any sign of him. It is as if he flew away,” Wilson continued. “I hope that pig-fu--, I mean, half-orcs can’t fly now because they cause enough evil as it is.”

“But you have met Ratchis, do you think he is evil?” Martin asked.

“Well, as the products of rape and slavery I can understand why they may do some of the things they do,” Wilson said, philosophically. “Some of them must be okay, I mean, they are half-human.”

“That’s very open-minded of you,” Martins said patronizingly.

“Hey, thanks!”

Martin made hi way to the door, making sure the royal emblem on the medallion was visible against his emerald robes. He had his staff at his side, like a classic watch-mage at his station. As he came to the door he stopped, for the barmaid was coming in from dumping out the pails.

And he stopped her and asked what she might know the recent events in town, and she apologized to him because she had been called to testify at the hearing the following day.

“To say what?” Martin asked.

“The truth,” she said, meekly. “That I saw you and your companions slipping out the back door in the evening on the same day that the young miss had gone missing from her cell.”

Martin thanked her.

Smiling and feeling confident, Martin began to walk through the early morning streets of Ogre’s Bluff; if streets they could be called. They were more like narrow alleys of cleared snow between buildings built in clusters, leading to a series of wider openings in the middle that made up the town square.

Martin greeted people on the street. He talked to shop-keepers, old widows, a brick-layer and a baker. He had to grudgingly swallow down some cakes that might have been dry even when he could still taste food, and sip a few cups of scalding hot tea, but he learned a few things. Among them was that the constable’s wife and children had been killed by an orc raiding party while he was misdirected looking for it elsewhere.

Martin also heard a tale that told of the constable catching bandits in the woods a few years back and them letting them go, and shooting them in the back as they ran.

The alderman was deemed fair by most of the people the young watch-mage spoke to, but also very stern and wise. Martin heard from more than one mouth how things had improved since the alderman had been assigned his post by the king.

-------

Martin hurried from the general store, where he had learned from Margun the Shop-keeper that the older of the two Oldhall brothers who worked as guards on the alderman’s estate was smitten with Rahasia, the alderman’s daughter’s handmaiden. Ra’s Glory had reached its apex and was glistening in the dripping icicles that lined the eaves of all the houses. He skidded to a stop in front of the Golden Plough and smoothed over his robes.

He was approached by a young lad with a horse, “From the alderman, sir,” the boy said.

“No, please, return it with word to the alderman that I will be staying for the hearing,’ Martin said, with a smile, awkwardly patting the kid on the head. “Can you remember that?”

“Yes, sir,’ the boy said, annoyed.

Martin slipped him two copper coins and stepped into the inn. Richard was being shown to the table buy the mousy barmaid. He made some whispered joke that Martin could not hear and the barmaid tittered, covering her mouth and turning red. Richard smiled as he saw Martin enter.

“Better make that a whole pitcher of the mead, sweetheart,” Richard said to the barmaid. “And, um, another hunk of the old roast beef for him as well.”

“No, thank you. I have already eaten,” Martin said. He was forcing the corners of him mouth down as to not smile.

Richard’s smile broadened. “Please, sit,” he gestured to a chair, and Martin obliged him. There were only two other tables in the place full. One had two shepherds, but in the corner by the hearth was a table for four town guards in their armor, their spears leaning against their chairs, drinking and laughing while being addressed by a tall pale and lanky man, with black robes and long straight black hair. He had a mole the size of dime on his left cheek right above his lip.

Martin took note, and then looked Richard right in the eye as the older watch-mage sat.

“Why should I trust you?” Martin asked.

“Because in your heart you know that we are both watch-mage and want the same things, and were trained by the same good-hearted people not to do evil and in both our cases the lesson has stuck,” Richard said.

“What about freeing the drow witches?” Martin asked.

“I am not making a concerted effort to free the other two witches,” Richard said.

“Are you making a concerted effort to free even one?” Martin snapped.

“No,” Richard sighed. “The whole plan is ruined because of you and your companions and now is time for damage control. Even if I could free the other two, it would never work now, your presence seeded doubt in Karellena’s mind. The only thing to do is to catch her.”

“Of course,” Martin cocked any eybrow.

“So, you have contemplated my offer?” Richard asked. The barmaid poured them each some mead from the pitcher she brought over. Richard pinched her and slipped some coins in her apron with a wink.

“Yes, I have,” Martin said. He did not touch the mug.

“And?’

“I am leaning towards accepting it,” Martin said, hurriedly.

Richard smiled and leaned back in the chair, taking a long sip of the mead and then wiping his mouth and beard with the back of his hand.

“Good! I knew you’d come around,” he said.

“You are going to help free my friend by testifying at the hearing tomorrow about how you freed Jana,” Martin said, his voice wavering only slightly.

Richard laughed.

“If you want help freeing them just ask, that is what this partnership is all about, but don’t propose such absurd plans. I have a better way to get them free.”

“I don’t suppose there would be anyway to accomplish this without magic?” Martin said, defeat in his voice.

“That would be much more difficult, and…”

“I’m sure you have all manner of watch-mage business in the area and don’t have time to do things the hard way,” Martin said.

“Yes, but I’m not sure which to do first, after helping you that is,” Richard replied. ‘Got to find a way to work the system.”

“Some might find this whole process unethical,” Martin said.

“We are traversing gray and murky waters, my friend.”

“Nice metaphor,” Martin said sardonically.

Richard folded a chunk of bloody roast beef in a wedge of bread, and stood.

“Well, I have some planning to do. I’ll be…”

“Reaching Gothanian law?” Martin asked, expectantly.

“Um, no,” Richard smirked. “I’ll see you in the morning. Keep your eyes open for an opportunity.”

“Opportunity for what?” Martin pushed his chair back and looked up.

“Anything, Martin. Anything at all,” Richard took a big bite of his sandwich and walked out the door.
 

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