Herremann the Wise
First Post
The Chess Situation
Thanks ledded for your continued reading patronage as well as others enjoying the story.
Rather dramatic events have happened in game which will shape this Story Hour in weeks to come. For the moment though, we continue to leave Sir Herland Ramus's response to Lucifus's revelation waiting as we examine further the Chess situation. Suffice to say, there is a lot more happening behind the scenes than is being told.
The following update traverses three scenes that should light up the dramatic conclusion soon to be told.
The web of intrigue has been firmly cast.
About ten minutes later…
The crowd cheered precluding all other sound as Chess stepped back upon the stage.
The second half of Chess’ evening performance whether by design or circumstance was comparatively subdued against the dramatic initial section. Rather than the majestic ballads, songs and airs of the first half of the show, Chess’ repertoire extended into various tales, storytelling, sagas, episodes and yarns. She had changed into a more conservative skirt with accompanying fine bodice, her hair more orderly and collected: almost regal. She started with stories humourous and comedic, ranging from the most heroic to the blue: the crowd cheering and laughing. Legends were then spoken of lands far away; daring and gallant characters and exotic places and locales all coming alive on the stage before the massive audience. She then ventured into one of her better-known epics, the audience becoming stilled from their previous raucousness. For Lucifus however, he barely took in a word. He did his best not to appear restive or over alert. Unfortunately, he could not locate anyone with obviously ill intent, the audience were once again spellbound by her silken words. He considered communicating his own message to Tunthi but thought better of it than having the half-orc enter the hall{1}. In the end, he woodenly listened to the rest of the show, wary of sudden movements. It was only at the end that he intended to make sure he was positioned where he was needed.
As Chess finished her performance with dramatic panache, élan and flamboyant flourishes, the lights across the breadth of the hall abruptly extinguished. Almost expecting as much, Lucifus travelled immediately [dimension doored] to the stage where several figures were rapidly moving around in the darkness. One of these figures sensing something belted the floating wizard over the head with a loose hand while several grunts were heard from the others tripping over each other. The unmistakable twang of a loaded crossbow being fired was the last distinguishable sound Lucifus heard before the dull uproar and unknowing cheer of the audience washed over the stage.
Impulsively and still smarting from the blow, Lucifus sped straight up but with no way of producing light he could not judge the events that had just happened. He just saw a series of shadowed forms below. There had been no scream and the confused figures below seemed not to have found their quarry given their confused movements. Nowhere could Lucifus sense where Chess might be, even using his ability to see those invisible to the naked eye. She had disappeared as if she was never there. Was she still in danger? Could there be more than one party after her? Lucifus was torn as to what to do next. He had agreed to wait for her but how could he now? Now was not the time for meekness and to abandon Chess to her fate. Lucifus, motivated by the performance had a surge of heroic inspiration and acted upon it immediately.
At about this time elsewhere…
Darkness pervaded the backstreets of Nethendawe. The area was additionally suffused with the odour of too many people in too little space. The stink of refuse and stench of excrement addressed two lantern carrying figures walking down the street. The lamps that each carried reflected their differing movements: one with a steady walk and light, the other with cautious and staggered steps, the light dancing and flickering in random patterns. The two watchmen: Farris the hardened veteran and Vincent, the new and green novice were investigating a report of unsatisfactory activity in the vicinity. Farris assumed that the overly vigilant information was nothing more than local carousing. However, he thought to show Vincent the new boy around and besides, his coinpouch had been substantially lightened and he wanted to get away from the gambling of the watchhouse before his funds were totally depleted. For all his years and experience in the watch, Farris even admitted to himself that as a gambler he was atrocious.
He cast an evaluative eye over Vincent. He was young, barely sixteen years old, and a farmer’s boy in the big city. Barely a week in the job, he was also as skittish as a sewer rat around the senior watchman. In fact the nerves of the lad were getting to Farris, he was too green although he did have some size to him. He might be good in a fight. Have to see he supposed.
It was then that Farris stopped.
“What ya stopping for sir?” Vincent asked.
“Shhh…up ahead” Farris pointed to a building. “A bunch of urchins scattering like the devil himself was chasing them. Out of that house me thinks.”
Vincent hadn’t been looking but he nodded anyway. Farris just shook his head. Some young’ens needed more than time. As much as people would like to think they were up for the job, the Watch required a special type of individual. If they were to last an amount of time anyway. The two advanced as before to the long disused premises.
Vincent shone his light inside where the door had been off of its hinges for some time and the windows to either side smashed in. The wooden house still concealed darkness within its frame. Vincent did not seem to know what he was looking for. Farris however did as he pointed to the floor, “Yep. This is where they ran out of.” Farris had highlighted the fresh sodden marks on what was left of the wooden planks making up the floor. He shined his lamp illuminating the rear. A doorway led through to a backroom.
Vincent immediately went to advance but was held back by Farris. “Now lets do this orderly like. There might be someone in there who would like nothing more than opening a big hole in your belly”. Both drew their short swords, Farris using it to point to where he wanted Vincent to move – to the side of the rear doorway.
“Come out if you’re in there. We won’t hurt ya.” Farris waited several moments for a response. Not receiving one, he stepped forward and nodded to Vincent. Vincent urgently moved through into the darkness before realising that the boss wanted him to shine the light inside, not barge in waving his sword. He accidentally dropped the sword whilst trying to swap hands with the lamp, the weapon making a dull thud on the floor. The lantern illuminated the backroom before being dropped as well with a crash of splintered glass.
“You fool what are you doing…” Farris’s words were instantly stopped by what he saw with his own lantern. “By the holy light of Galasso,” he swore. Vincent swung around and heaved his guts in the dark corner. In front of them was a body missing its head. A closer look revealed the head on a disused shelf having leaked and dripped its fluids over the well-dressed body below it. The body had been pilfered of its wealth, missing buttons, pouches and equipment. The fabrics and weave however spoke of the nobility. A look back to the head above revealed further violence. The nose had been violently severed revealing bone – half the face missing in the process. Identification would be difficult. Farris turned to the youngster who had by now gushed up his three daily meals. It was going to be a long night.
And again, in the past (about one to two weeks)...
The office room showed the trappings of extreme wealth with the gaudish use of gold upon the many adornments, finials and embellishments within its interior. The massive desk was the feature piece of the room although the beautiful surrounding bookcases of rarest teak glistened like honey, a light above casting its rays upon the numerous books burdening their shelves. In such extreme grandeur, the presence of anyone would simply be lost amongst the finery. All except for Gregor Mysellkoten, head and housemaster of the Mysellkoten trading house – the richest in Nethendawe and possibly anywhere along the mighty Beltrates. His features were clean and fine, his gaze clear and his demeanour of acuity and perception. Middle aged, he was a master merchant, the fifth generation of his family. Currently, he had stood up beckoning Jerigar{2} his assistant and accomplice to follow him. Touching a panel that magically retreated out of view; he led his companion down a series of stairs to a basement. This was the room ominously named the ‘dungeon’. It was the seat of the most important decisions and deals made by the Mysellkoten House.
It was Gregor, also known simply as The Baron who spoke first. “I understand your family is well. Peronsil is always nice this time of year.”
“Yes sir. The fashions, fetes and fairs are to my wife’s liking. My daughter is burgeoning upon that time where adolescence transforms into young adulthood. She seeks a fine match.”
“A beautiful and well-favoured child. I assume there are several suitors of choice?”
“There are several indeed. Some of which are not to my wife’s expectations nor my own. I do not know whose wrath is worse.”
The Baron raised an eyebrow at Jerigar’s subtle humour, the mannerism his own indication of expressing amusement. He responded. “I feel more sorry for the successful applicant. He has entirely too much to live up to.”
Jerigar simply laughed, “Indeed…I wish my daughter a child again, not the princess she wishes to become.”
The two smiled.
Jerigar changed the subject. “How is business? It has been a good few weeks since I have seen you. Have you sealed the deal with the Smith’s Guild in Keryl?”
The Baron nodded, “Yes our flow of funds increases suitably. As to the Keryl situation, Grand Master Kluge has seen fit to accede to some but not all of my demands. If he continues to be obstreperous, I may even see fit for you to pay him an encouraging visit. Such things however will have to wait as I have dealings for you elsewhere. Here in Nethendawe in fact.”
“Nothing of too greater exertion?”
“Not for you at any rate. The House of Elarayan{3} has seen fit to stall particular payments much to my displeasure. In fact they rashly flout my stipulations heedless as if the consequences were nothing. I need you to instruct them a stern lesson. Something dramatic that other Nethenese Houses may pay attention to in case they also feel we are lax in our provisions and requisites.”
“And the salient points of instruction regarding this lesson?”
“Two minor functionaries specific to the case and a senior assistant whose judgment has been recently clouded by a local entertainer.” Gregor Mysellkoten proffered a scroll to Jerigar from inside his robes. “Adequate details are included. I suggest careful work rather than anything too expedient. The case may be somewhat delicate.”
“Sir, I understand your directives with sufficiency. I will report back when suitable.”
The two men stood together silently for a moment before nodding in farewell; the dire dealings conducted with a casual air of normalcy, as if such things were mundane and the humdrum of regular business.
{1} Currently, Tunthi was being entertained by two wenches whose greed vastly surpassed their discernment. Tunthi had been involved in several scuffles earlier so Lucifus planned to keep him out of the way and occupied for the evening.
{2} Jerigar of Mysellkoten performed many functions for the Mysellkoten Trading House. Perhaps of greatest importance but least well known was his duality as the assassin Primmas Rose. Primmas Rose was an enigma to many in Nethendawe, Peronsil and beyond; a name mentioned to provoke reaction. Unfortunately, Chess was one of the few who knew his real identity, a circumstance she would soon suffer for.
{3} The Elarayan house was a relatively new trading house whose commercial interests had increased significantly over the past ten years. The current Housemaster was Teroncé, an avaricious man of deft mercantile acumen. Interestingly enough he was also the blood uncle of Chess, not that he knew of such at this immediate point. He had banished his sister, (Chess’ mother) over twenty years ago from any dealings with the family. She was left destitute and a pauper in Peronsil. He figured her dead.
Thanks ledded for your continued reading patronage as well as others enjoying the story.
Rather dramatic events have happened in game which will shape this Story Hour in weeks to come. For the moment though, we continue to leave Sir Herland Ramus's response to Lucifus's revelation waiting as we examine further the Chess situation. Suffice to say, there is a lot more happening behind the scenes than is being told.
The following update traverses three scenes that should light up the dramatic conclusion soon to be told.
The web of intrigue has been firmly cast.
***
About ten minutes later…
The crowd cheered precluding all other sound as Chess stepped back upon the stage.
The second half of Chess’ evening performance whether by design or circumstance was comparatively subdued against the dramatic initial section. Rather than the majestic ballads, songs and airs of the first half of the show, Chess’ repertoire extended into various tales, storytelling, sagas, episodes and yarns. She had changed into a more conservative skirt with accompanying fine bodice, her hair more orderly and collected: almost regal. She started with stories humourous and comedic, ranging from the most heroic to the blue: the crowd cheering and laughing. Legends were then spoken of lands far away; daring and gallant characters and exotic places and locales all coming alive on the stage before the massive audience. She then ventured into one of her better-known epics, the audience becoming stilled from their previous raucousness. For Lucifus however, he barely took in a word. He did his best not to appear restive or over alert. Unfortunately, he could not locate anyone with obviously ill intent, the audience were once again spellbound by her silken words. He considered communicating his own message to Tunthi but thought better of it than having the half-orc enter the hall{1}. In the end, he woodenly listened to the rest of the show, wary of sudden movements. It was only at the end that he intended to make sure he was positioned where he was needed.
As Chess finished her performance with dramatic panache, élan and flamboyant flourishes, the lights across the breadth of the hall abruptly extinguished. Almost expecting as much, Lucifus travelled immediately [dimension doored] to the stage where several figures were rapidly moving around in the darkness. One of these figures sensing something belted the floating wizard over the head with a loose hand while several grunts were heard from the others tripping over each other. The unmistakable twang of a loaded crossbow being fired was the last distinguishable sound Lucifus heard before the dull uproar and unknowing cheer of the audience washed over the stage.
Impulsively and still smarting from the blow, Lucifus sped straight up but with no way of producing light he could not judge the events that had just happened. He just saw a series of shadowed forms below. There had been no scream and the confused figures below seemed not to have found their quarry given their confused movements. Nowhere could Lucifus sense where Chess might be, even using his ability to see those invisible to the naked eye. She had disappeared as if she was never there. Was she still in danger? Could there be more than one party after her? Lucifus was torn as to what to do next. He had agreed to wait for her but how could he now? Now was not the time for meekness and to abandon Chess to her fate. Lucifus, motivated by the performance had a surge of heroic inspiration and acted upon it immediately.
***
At about this time elsewhere…
Darkness pervaded the backstreets of Nethendawe. The area was additionally suffused with the odour of too many people in too little space. The stink of refuse and stench of excrement addressed two lantern carrying figures walking down the street. The lamps that each carried reflected their differing movements: one with a steady walk and light, the other with cautious and staggered steps, the light dancing and flickering in random patterns. The two watchmen: Farris the hardened veteran and Vincent, the new and green novice were investigating a report of unsatisfactory activity in the vicinity. Farris assumed that the overly vigilant information was nothing more than local carousing. However, he thought to show Vincent the new boy around and besides, his coinpouch had been substantially lightened and he wanted to get away from the gambling of the watchhouse before his funds were totally depleted. For all his years and experience in the watch, Farris even admitted to himself that as a gambler he was atrocious.
He cast an evaluative eye over Vincent. He was young, barely sixteen years old, and a farmer’s boy in the big city. Barely a week in the job, he was also as skittish as a sewer rat around the senior watchman. In fact the nerves of the lad were getting to Farris, he was too green although he did have some size to him. He might be good in a fight. Have to see he supposed.
It was then that Farris stopped.
“What ya stopping for sir?” Vincent asked.
“Shhh…up ahead” Farris pointed to a building. “A bunch of urchins scattering like the devil himself was chasing them. Out of that house me thinks.”
Vincent hadn’t been looking but he nodded anyway. Farris just shook his head. Some young’ens needed more than time. As much as people would like to think they were up for the job, the Watch required a special type of individual. If they were to last an amount of time anyway. The two advanced as before to the long disused premises.
Vincent shone his light inside where the door had been off of its hinges for some time and the windows to either side smashed in. The wooden house still concealed darkness within its frame. Vincent did not seem to know what he was looking for. Farris however did as he pointed to the floor, “Yep. This is where they ran out of.” Farris had highlighted the fresh sodden marks on what was left of the wooden planks making up the floor. He shined his lamp illuminating the rear. A doorway led through to a backroom.
Vincent immediately went to advance but was held back by Farris. “Now lets do this orderly like. There might be someone in there who would like nothing more than opening a big hole in your belly”. Both drew their short swords, Farris using it to point to where he wanted Vincent to move – to the side of the rear doorway.
“Come out if you’re in there. We won’t hurt ya.” Farris waited several moments for a response. Not receiving one, he stepped forward and nodded to Vincent. Vincent urgently moved through into the darkness before realising that the boss wanted him to shine the light inside, not barge in waving his sword. He accidentally dropped the sword whilst trying to swap hands with the lamp, the weapon making a dull thud on the floor. The lantern illuminated the backroom before being dropped as well with a crash of splintered glass.
“You fool what are you doing…” Farris’s words were instantly stopped by what he saw with his own lantern. “By the holy light of Galasso,” he swore. Vincent swung around and heaved his guts in the dark corner. In front of them was a body missing its head. A closer look revealed the head on a disused shelf having leaked and dripped its fluids over the well-dressed body below it. The body had been pilfered of its wealth, missing buttons, pouches and equipment. The fabrics and weave however spoke of the nobility. A look back to the head above revealed further violence. The nose had been violently severed revealing bone – half the face missing in the process. Identification would be difficult. Farris turned to the youngster who had by now gushed up his three daily meals. It was going to be a long night.
***
And again, in the past (about one to two weeks)...
The office room showed the trappings of extreme wealth with the gaudish use of gold upon the many adornments, finials and embellishments within its interior. The massive desk was the feature piece of the room although the beautiful surrounding bookcases of rarest teak glistened like honey, a light above casting its rays upon the numerous books burdening their shelves. In such extreme grandeur, the presence of anyone would simply be lost amongst the finery. All except for Gregor Mysellkoten, head and housemaster of the Mysellkoten trading house – the richest in Nethendawe and possibly anywhere along the mighty Beltrates. His features were clean and fine, his gaze clear and his demeanour of acuity and perception. Middle aged, he was a master merchant, the fifth generation of his family. Currently, he had stood up beckoning Jerigar{2} his assistant and accomplice to follow him. Touching a panel that magically retreated out of view; he led his companion down a series of stairs to a basement. This was the room ominously named the ‘dungeon’. It was the seat of the most important decisions and deals made by the Mysellkoten House.
It was Gregor, also known simply as The Baron who spoke first. “I understand your family is well. Peronsil is always nice this time of year.”
“Yes sir. The fashions, fetes and fairs are to my wife’s liking. My daughter is burgeoning upon that time where adolescence transforms into young adulthood. She seeks a fine match.”
“A beautiful and well-favoured child. I assume there are several suitors of choice?”
“There are several indeed. Some of which are not to my wife’s expectations nor my own. I do not know whose wrath is worse.”
The Baron raised an eyebrow at Jerigar’s subtle humour, the mannerism his own indication of expressing amusement. He responded. “I feel more sorry for the successful applicant. He has entirely too much to live up to.”
Jerigar simply laughed, “Indeed…I wish my daughter a child again, not the princess she wishes to become.”
The two smiled.
Jerigar changed the subject. “How is business? It has been a good few weeks since I have seen you. Have you sealed the deal with the Smith’s Guild in Keryl?”
The Baron nodded, “Yes our flow of funds increases suitably. As to the Keryl situation, Grand Master Kluge has seen fit to accede to some but not all of my demands. If he continues to be obstreperous, I may even see fit for you to pay him an encouraging visit. Such things however will have to wait as I have dealings for you elsewhere. Here in Nethendawe in fact.”
“Nothing of too greater exertion?”
“Not for you at any rate. The House of Elarayan{3} has seen fit to stall particular payments much to my displeasure. In fact they rashly flout my stipulations heedless as if the consequences were nothing. I need you to instruct them a stern lesson. Something dramatic that other Nethenese Houses may pay attention to in case they also feel we are lax in our provisions and requisites.”
“And the salient points of instruction regarding this lesson?”
“Two minor functionaries specific to the case and a senior assistant whose judgment has been recently clouded by a local entertainer.” Gregor Mysellkoten proffered a scroll to Jerigar from inside his robes. “Adequate details are included. I suggest careful work rather than anything too expedient. The case may be somewhat delicate.”
“Sir, I understand your directives with sufficiency. I will report back when suitable.”
The two men stood together silently for a moment before nodding in farewell; the dire dealings conducted with a casual air of normalcy, as if such things were mundane and the humdrum of regular business.
***
{1} Currently, Tunthi was being entertained by two wenches whose greed vastly surpassed their discernment. Tunthi had been involved in several scuffles earlier so Lucifus planned to keep him out of the way and occupied for the evening.
{2} Jerigar of Mysellkoten performed many functions for the Mysellkoten Trading House. Perhaps of greatest importance but least well known was his duality as the assassin Primmas Rose. Primmas Rose was an enigma to many in Nethendawe, Peronsil and beyond; a name mentioned to provoke reaction. Unfortunately, Chess was one of the few who knew his real identity, a circumstance she would soon suffer for.
{3} The Elarayan house was a relatively new trading house whose commercial interests had increased significantly over the past ten years. The current Housemaster was Teroncé, an avaricious man of deft mercantile acumen. Interestingly enough he was also the blood uncle of Chess, not that he knew of such at this immediate point. He had banished his sister, (Chess’ mother) over twenty years ago from any dealings with the family. She was left destitute and a pauper in Peronsil. He figured her dead.
