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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
Welcome to the Halmae (updated 2/27/07)
- Thread starter spyscribe
- Start date
Fajitas
Hold the Peppers
Oh, I've considered that. But the things she claims I said are, in general, sufficiently clever that if she wants to ascribe them to me, I don't mind.MTR said:
We had a pretty big, pretty exciting game last night. Net result: The Mages' Academy, at long last*, has a new Chancellor. And I think it'll surprise people to see who it is. Lord knows, it surprised me.
*And by "long last" I mean almost three years to the week real time...
spyscribe
First Post
In the interests of laying to rest any doubts about the compulsiveness of my note-taking I will point out that the Academy has actually been without a permanent chancellor for even longer.Fajitas said:
Remember, we got the mission to seek out the archmages on the session played 7-14-02. The former Chancellor was killed in the session played 5-15-02.
Fajitas was not the only one surprised by who the new Chancellor turned out to be--which is not to say that it was necessarily an illogical choice. But if you had taken a staw-poll of the players at the beginning of the session, I don't think anyone would have seen the final vote going the way that it did.
spyscribe said:
Isn't it great how a game - which is entirely your creation - can still surprise you? Of the three candidates we've seen in the story hour I guess the sorceress (Cri'i?) would appear to be the best candidate. The elven fellow might be a little, um, detached from human thinking. And the fellow with the moving tower (sorry, I'm not good with names!) might find his interest in necromancy poorly received by the citizens. But it's a dicey call at best. So if you'll just whip out, oh, 20 updates we'll be able to judge for ourselves.
spyscribe
First Post
Twenty sessions, maybe. Twenty updates? Well, it'd be nice if that was all we needed to catch-up.MTR said:
And I have no idea if he reads this thread or not, but I hereby dedicate this update in honor of sagiro's birthday.
Part the One-Hundred Thirty-Fifth
In which: upon leaving the Academy, the members of the party split-up to attend to their various bits of business.
Anvil goes directly from Professor Alexandra’s office to report to Tenacious. The Sixth Order Justicar debriefs his subordinate on all that has transpired since they last met. Anvil spends most of his time describing Petros and expounding on the abominations in Kettenek’s sight that the party vanquished in Bountiful.
Anvil also spends a great deal of time speaking of the Sovereigns in general, of their devout veneration of Kettenek, but their odd ideas about his Just Ways. “It will be ironic,” he concludes, “if, when the time comes to spread Universal Law into the Sovereignty, the greatest resistance we face will be from those most devoted to Kettenek.”
Tenacious cannot help but smile at Anvil’s matter-of-fact pronouncement of a goal so far off. “Indeed,” he says. “But that will be a matter for the future. And, speaking of the future…”
Anvil’s ears perk up.
“I’d like to submit your name to be promoted to the Third Order,” Tenacious says.
It is only the rapid blinking of Anvil’s eyes that betrays his surprise. His promotion to the Second Order occurred a mere six months ago. To be promoted so quickly is a great honor. Clearly it is a sign that he has seen Kettenek’s Justice done.
Although…
The Examinations for Third Order are quite grueling. Second Orders typically spend a year or more studying and hearing cases before they are considered ready for their Examinations. He hasn’t nearly fulfilled the number of hours of casework required for promotion. Most of Anvil’s time as a Second Order has been spent traveling, and the mission has demanded so much of his attention, he has had little time for studies…
As if reading his thoughts, Tenacious says, “I know it is a rapid promotion. And while you may not have logged your hours in traditional casework, none can dispute that you have put in hours beyond the call in the service of the Temple. You have certainly learned much of Justice in your travels. You may need to put in a little extra time in the archives while you are still in town, but I wouldn’t put your name forward if I didn’t feel you were up to the task.”
Anvil nods. “Very well,” Anvil replies. “I shall make myself worthy of the trust you have placed in me.”
“Excellent,” Tenacious responds. “I’ll have an examination board convened by the end of the week.”
###
Lira, meanwhile, has a message from Devon asking her to check in with him. Well, she thinks to herself as she makes her way to the Questor chapter house that evening, this is going to be a status report he wasn’t expecting.
On her shoulder, Euro practically bounces with excitement.
Lira arrives at the chapter house and is ushered into Devon’s office immediately upon her arrival. Lira enters with a mix of excitement and trepidation.
Devon greets her with a broad smile. “So, how have your travels been? Challenging?”
“You could say that,” Lira allows, then interrupts herself before the meeting descends into the story of her adventures. “Before I forget, do you know anything about the Empire of Ebis?”
Devon shrugs. “Some. I once walked the Old Sea Road, years ago.”
“Do you have a map?”
“I might… I can find it for you if you like.”
“That would be a big help.”
Devon smiles. “I assume you’ll be in town for a few days?... Excellent. I’ll try to dig it up for you. Now, tell me what you’ve been up to.”
###
“Twenty-one days in the Ketkath!”
“Completely isolated, no tracks, trails, nothing.” Lira’s eyes shine—and not just from the dwarven ale—as she tells Devon of the party’s adventures. “We saw the most enormous bird… I mean, we knew it was big, but then it dove and we realized it was three ridges over. It must have been the size of a house.”
Devon sighs. “Ah, it’s been too long. I should go back there.”
“I tell you, I would rather meet a Xorn than a Sovereign Inquisitor any day of the week.”
Devon laughs. “You met an Inquisitor?”
“Well, not in the middle of the Ketkath, of course.” Lira shakes her head. “It was pretty sticky there for a bit. At least it happened before…” Lira trails off.
“Before what?” Devon prompts her.
“I… I’ve received a special blessing from Ehkt.” Lira watches Devon closely. He’s seemed unsure in the past about her sorcery, but surely, this will prove to him that it’s nothing to fear. Ehkt wouldn’t give his blessing to her if He didn’t approve of the arcane.
Devon seems a bit puzzled. “You’ve always seen your… talents as…”
“No,” Lira interrupts. “It’s… I should just show you…” She trails off, looking about the room. Eye falling on a small Ebisite carving on Devon’s desk, she picks it up.
Lira closes her eyes, and holding the carving in one hand and her holy symbol in the other, she casts light.
When she opens her eyes, the carving glows with a flickering orange radiance, like firelight, but cool to the touch. Devon stares open-mouthed.
After a few moments, the silence grows heavy. Lira’s pulse pounds in her throat.
“Devon?… Say something.”
Lira’s voice jolts him back to the present.
“That’s ah… Well… This isn’t like… other things you do?”
Lira risks a tiny smile. “I discovered what had happened when my hands burst into flame.”
“Fire?”
“Yeah.”
Devon sits a little longer. “Well, you are very blessed indeed. There are few to whom Ehkt grants such abilities… very few indeed.” He trails off at the end, almost as though he is talking to himself.
It is in that moment that Lira realizes something about Devon. In the past, he has been wary of her abilities. Now, he is envious. Too late, she wonders if she erred in sharing her revelation.
The silence falls again. This time Devon breaks it.
“So, you saw a really big bird then?”
“Yeah, huge.”
They talk for some minutes more, but the joviality is a bit forced, and Lira realizes that while Devon seems willing enough to share war-stories with her, it might only be because he’s unwilling to ask her to leave flat-out.
Lira elects to excuse herself, but before she departs, she unhooks a small pouch from her belt. Inside it is ten percent of her share of the treasure from the vault in Bountiful. “When I first arrived in this city I didn’t have anything,” she explains. “You were here for me, and… I really appreciate that. I couldn’t repay you then…” she holds out the pouch and—as Devon makes no move to take it from her—leaves it on a small end table. “Use it to help someone else who needs it.”
Devon nods.
“I’ll check in before we leave for Ebis to get the map.”
“Of course.”
Devon stares at the carving, which continues to glow for several minutes after Lira leaves the room.
###
Although many of the others have messages waiting for them at the Temple, Eva finds she does not. With few responsibilities, she does what she does best. Finds a bar, finds a card game, wins some money, and calls it a night.
She falls asleep without it ever occurring to her that her night might not be over yet.
She notices something is wrong when, as she rolls over in the night, her feet bump into something. Or rather, someone. Sitting on the edge of her bed.
She wakes with a start, adrenaline coursing through her system. She grabs for the dagger she keeps within reach at night, but to her great surprise, it isn’t there.
“Looking for this?” the man sitting at the end of her bed says, dangling a dagger in front of her.
The man is familiar. It’s someone she hasn’t seen since…
…since the day she was brought back to life.
Kemmer.
“You,” she says.
“Me,” he agrees, as he casually tosses the dagger in the air, catching it easily as it comes down. His voice is almost cheerful. Cheerful, but with a malicious edge. “I was wondering how long you were going to stay asleep. I was starting to get rather bored. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that you’re not pretty enough to be worth watching while you sleep, but you’re not quite so special that the novelty doesn’t wear off eventually.” And, almost as an afterthought, “You don’t mind that I let myself in, do you?”
“Actually, I kind of do,” Eva says, even as her brain registers that, from his tone of voice, he couldn’t possibly care less whether or not she minds.
He shrugs, all but actually saying “tough.” What he does say is, “I’m sure you have a lot to report. So why don’t you start at the beginning... and tell me everything.”
spyscribe
First Post
Part the One-Hundred Thirty-Sixth
In which: Thatch Attends.
At the Temple of Justice, Thatch was surprised to discover that one of the messages waiting for the party was addressed to him, sent by one Dame Jenna, a Knight Chaplain of the Lady’s Attendants.
He’s familiar with the Attendants, at least in principle. They’re an Alirrian group whose principal mission involves providing support and services to the other Alirrian sects. The message requests an interview with him at his earliest convenience.
As the other members of the party have scattered to their own business, Anvil with the Justicars, Lira with the Questors, and Eva… well, to wherever she goes, Thatch’s earliest convenience comes… rather early.
###
The Temple of the Attendants lies at the very edge of Dar Pykos, adjacent to the parade grounds. In fact, these grounds are often used by the Attendants in training exercises. Of the four major branches of the Attendants, two serve martial purposes: the Attendants of the Body, escorts and bodyguards for non-martial Alirrians, and the Attendants of the Field, Alirrian knights who carry out the will of the Church in battle.
The Attendants of the Field execute training maneuvers as Thatch is escorted past them. He notes their tight formations with approval. Not that he knows the first thing about fighting in an orderly regiment; he merely thinks they look pretty neat.
Thatch is brought to a small private garden, where Dame Jenna awaits him beneath a large tree. She is a plain looking woman with short-cropped hair. Her full plate mail sparkles in the dappled light; her holy symbol indicates that she is an Attendant of the Field. Thatch notices she has a somewhat harried look about her, as if she has been supremely busy of late. Indeed, she re-rolls a stack of parchments as the young fighter approaches.
She takes a quick moment to look Thatch up and down before she inclines her head and says, formally, “May I be of service to you.”
Thatch blinks, confused. “Um, I don’t know. I thought you asked me to come.”
Dame Jenna smiles. “No, no,” she says. “That is the formal greeting of the Lady’s Attendants. ‘May I be of service to you.’ It is a statement, not a question. Our Lady’s love is best known when we are all of service to one another.”
Privately, Thatch briefly suspects that some of the ways the Handmaidens have helped him know Alirria’s love might be better, but he politely replies, “Oh. Um, well, then may I be of service to you.”
“Indeed, I hope so,” she replies, motioning for Thatch to sit. “You see, with Alirria Rising, I’ve a need for extra swords, and from what I hear from the reports of the other Churches relating to…” her voice takes on a quieter tone “…the mission you are involved in, you have no small degree of skill.”
Thatch swells with momentary pride that Dame Jenna has heard of his exploits. “I’d be honored,” Thatch says. “What do you need me to do?”
“As I mentioned, it is nearly Alirria Rising. One of the key missions of the Attendants is to see to the safety of our less combat oriented sistren, and traditionally this is a time when the Temple of the Handmaidens is… ah…”
“Busy?” Thatch suggests.
“Rather. We like to have extra security on hand… just in case.” She smiles. “We’ll pay, of course, and the Handmaidens are always very appreciative of our aid.”
Best. Job. Ever. Thatch thinks to himself. “Sure. Sounds great,” he says aloud. “I’m always happy to do my part for the Lady.”
Dame Jenna grins. “Well, you should consider taking your Orders, then,” she jokes.
Thatch quite suddenly becomes very thoughtful. Taking his Orders. Sure, the others all belong to various religious sects. Well, except Reyu. Er, and Annika. But taking Orders himself? It’s something he’d never really thought about. He’d never considered himself all that religious.
Or had he?
After all, growing up on the farm in Sirrus, his family had regularly venerated Alirria, beseeching the Green Mother for bountiful crops and plentiful rains. And after leaving home to make his way in the world, he’d certainly muttered his share of prayers to the Goddess of Travelers on his long journey to Dar Pykos. And, since Dennis had first taken him to the Handmaidens, he’d worshipped more than a few times at the altar of the Lady of Love.
But that’s not really being religious, is it? Not really?
Unbidden, the memory of the Vale of the Holy Spring in the Ketkath floats to the forefront of his brain. The shimmering shape rising out of the pool. The calm words, striking deep in his heart. The sense of love infusing his being. That sense of comfort, like being tucked in a warm bed, with your mother stroking your head and singing soft, comforting nothings to you.
Is that what being religious is?
Because if it is… then maybe he always has been religious.
“Um,” he says. “What exactly would taking my Orders involve?”
Dame Jenna sits up, startled. “Do you truly ask this?”
“Well… yeah. Yeah, I guess I do,” Thatch says. “I guess I’ve always felt a kinship towards Alirria. Especially lately. And I guess… I guess that’s something I’d like to explore deeper.”
Dame Jenna breaks into a wide grin. “You don’t… you can’t know… This is truly a blessing for us. The Church of Alirria has… well, ever since our representative to your mission was forced to leave, we have been the sole Church without a voice in your party. To have you as our eyes and ears would be a… assuming you’d be willing, of course.”
“Sure,” Thatch replies. “So. Um. What do we do now?”
“Well, first you’ll have to choose what sect you’d most like to join.”
Thatch considers that. As a child, he’d known some Tenders, but that was when he was a farmer. He isn’t really a farmer these days. He does travel, so the Waterwalkers might be appropriate. But then, he’s never really been seized by that kind of wanderlust the Waterwalkers are known for. Of course, there are always the Handmaidens… though there wouldn’t be much of a place for Bob there, would there? And there’s seldom much call for a sword there, either. Except in the hands of an escort or a bodyguard...
Which leaves only one choice, really.
“Um. Well, I guess I’d like to join the Attendants, then,” Thatch says.
Dame Jenna smiles at him. She rises to her feet and bows. “In that case, may I be of service to you. Please, come with me.”
He does.
###
Eva allows herself the luxury of a deep funk as she wanders the streets of Dar Pykos the morning of the group’s scheduled shopping expedition to Dar Karo. Normally, she would be excited about the excursion, but she hasn’t slept well in the wake of her nocturnal visitor, and that is making her crabby.
Though, to be fair, the very fact of the visit is making her even crabbier. That smug, mocking attitude. The jibes and implied humiliations peppered throughout his conversation. All the questions, and of course he wouldn’t answer any of hers. Not even the simple ones.
”How should I get in touch with you, in the future?” Eva asked.
“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” he replied. “We’ll be in touch with you.”
“But what if it’s an emergency?”
“I said don’t worry. We’ll find you.”
Really! By the Wind’s left, what was that supposed to mean? And all the orders for while they’re in Ebis, things he insisted she do but wouldn’t explain. Keep an eye out for any information relating to—
Oh, whispers! Just thinking about it is enough to make her angry.
It’s the way he treats her that she objects to. Like her opinions doesn’t matter. Like she doesn’t matter. And maybe, to him, she doesn’t. After all, she was dead. They brought her back. She owes them, well, everything, doesn’t she?
Which is pretty much what he said to her when they brought her back. But still, that doesn’t mean she can be treated like she’s just some tool, to be used as he sees fit and then… what? Discarded? Eliminated?
She suddenly finds that it’s probably best not to think about what he might do if he ever decides that he’s done with her.
And, as if all that weren’t bad enough, Alirria Rising is this week, and she doesn’t even have a date.
Some weeks, the wind really blows against you.
In which: Thatch Attends.
At the Temple of Justice, Thatch was surprised to discover that one of the messages waiting for the party was addressed to him, sent by one Dame Jenna, a Knight Chaplain of the Lady’s Attendants.
He’s familiar with the Attendants, at least in principle. They’re an Alirrian group whose principal mission involves providing support and services to the other Alirrian sects. The message requests an interview with him at his earliest convenience.
As the other members of the party have scattered to their own business, Anvil with the Justicars, Lira with the Questors, and Eva… well, to wherever she goes, Thatch’s earliest convenience comes… rather early.
###
The Temple of the Attendants lies at the very edge of Dar Pykos, adjacent to the parade grounds. In fact, these grounds are often used by the Attendants in training exercises. Of the four major branches of the Attendants, two serve martial purposes: the Attendants of the Body, escorts and bodyguards for non-martial Alirrians, and the Attendants of the Field, Alirrian knights who carry out the will of the Church in battle.
The Attendants of the Field execute training maneuvers as Thatch is escorted past them. He notes their tight formations with approval. Not that he knows the first thing about fighting in an orderly regiment; he merely thinks they look pretty neat.
Thatch is brought to a small private garden, where Dame Jenna awaits him beneath a large tree. She is a plain looking woman with short-cropped hair. Her full plate mail sparkles in the dappled light; her holy symbol indicates that she is an Attendant of the Field. Thatch notices she has a somewhat harried look about her, as if she has been supremely busy of late. Indeed, she re-rolls a stack of parchments as the young fighter approaches.
She takes a quick moment to look Thatch up and down before she inclines her head and says, formally, “May I be of service to you.”
Thatch blinks, confused. “Um, I don’t know. I thought you asked me to come.”
Dame Jenna smiles. “No, no,” she says. “That is the formal greeting of the Lady’s Attendants. ‘May I be of service to you.’ It is a statement, not a question. Our Lady’s love is best known when we are all of service to one another.”
Privately, Thatch briefly suspects that some of the ways the Handmaidens have helped him know Alirria’s love might be better, but he politely replies, “Oh. Um, well, then may I be of service to you.”
“Indeed, I hope so,” she replies, motioning for Thatch to sit. “You see, with Alirria Rising, I’ve a need for extra swords, and from what I hear from the reports of the other Churches relating to…” her voice takes on a quieter tone “…the mission you are involved in, you have no small degree of skill.”
Thatch swells with momentary pride that Dame Jenna has heard of his exploits. “I’d be honored,” Thatch says. “What do you need me to do?”
“As I mentioned, it is nearly Alirria Rising. One of the key missions of the Attendants is to see to the safety of our less combat oriented sistren, and traditionally this is a time when the Temple of the Handmaidens is… ah…”
“Busy?” Thatch suggests.
“Rather. We like to have extra security on hand… just in case.” She smiles. “We’ll pay, of course, and the Handmaidens are always very appreciative of our aid.”
Best. Job. Ever. Thatch thinks to himself. “Sure. Sounds great,” he says aloud. “I’m always happy to do my part for the Lady.”
Dame Jenna grins. “Well, you should consider taking your Orders, then,” she jokes.
Thatch quite suddenly becomes very thoughtful. Taking his Orders. Sure, the others all belong to various religious sects. Well, except Reyu. Er, and Annika. But taking Orders himself? It’s something he’d never really thought about. He’d never considered himself all that religious.
Or had he?
After all, growing up on the farm in Sirrus, his family had regularly venerated Alirria, beseeching the Green Mother for bountiful crops and plentiful rains. And after leaving home to make his way in the world, he’d certainly muttered his share of prayers to the Goddess of Travelers on his long journey to Dar Pykos. And, since Dennis had first taken him to the Handmaidens, he’d worshipped more than a few times at the altar of the Lady of Love.
But that’s not really being religious, is it? Not really?
Unbidden, the memory of the Vale of the Holy Spring in the Ketkath floats to the forefront of his brain. The shimmering shape rising out of the pool. The calm words, striking deep in his heart. The sense of love infusing his being. That sense of comfort, like being tucked in a warm bed, with your mother stroking your head and singing soft, comforting nothings to you.
Is that what being religious is?
Because if it is… then maybe he always has been religious.
“Um,” he says. “What exactly would taking my Orders involve?”
Dame Jenna sits up, startled. “Do you truly ask this?”
“Well… yeah. Yeah, I guess I do,” Thatch says. “I guess I’ve always felt a kinship towards Alirria. Especially lately. And I guess… I guess that’s something I’d like to explore deeper.”
Dame Jenna breaks into a wide grin. “You don’t… you can’t know… This is truly a blessing for us. The Church of Alirria has… well, ever since our representative to your mission was forced to leave, we have been the sole Church without a voice in your party. To have you as our eyes and ears would be a… assuming you’d be willing, of course.”
“Sure,” Thatch replies. “So. Um. What do we do now?”
“Well, first you’ll have to choose what sect you’d most like to join.”
Thatch considers that. As a child, he’d known some Tenders, but that was when he was a farmer. He isn’t really a farmer these days. He does travel, so the Waterwalkers might be appropriate. But then, he’s never really been seized by that kind of wanderlust the Waterwalkers are known for. Of course, there are always the Handmaidens… though there wouldn’t be much of a place for Bob there, would there? And there’s seldom much call for a sword there, either. Except in the hands of an escort or a bodyguard...
Which leaves only one choice, really.
“Um. Well, I guess I’d like to join the Attendants, then,” Thatch says.
Dame Jenna smiles at him. She rises to her feet and bows. “In that case, may I be of service to you. Please, come with me.”
He does.
###
Eva allows herself the luxury of a deep funk as she wanders the streets of Dar Pykos the morning of the group’s scheduled shopping expedition to Dar Karo. Normally, she would be excited about the excursion, but she hasn’t slept well in the wake of her nocturnal visitor, and that is making her crabby.
Though, to be fair, the very fact of the visit is making her even crabbier. That smug, mocking attitude. The jibes and implied humiliations peppered throughout his conversation. All the questions, and of course he wouldn’t answer any of hers. Not even the simple ones.
”How should I get in touch with you, in the future?” Eva asked.
“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” he replied. “We’ll be in touch with you.”
“But what if it’s an emergency?”
“I said don’t worry. We’ll find you.”
Really! By the Wind’s left
, what was that supposed to mean? And all the orders for while they’re in Ebis, things he insisted she do but wouldn’t explain. Keep an eye out for any information relating to—Oh, whispers! Just thinking about it is enough to make her angry.
It’s the way he treats her that she objects to. Like her opinions doesn’t matter. Like she doesn’t matter. And maybe, to him, she doesn’t. After all, she was dead. They brought her back. She owes them, well, everything, doesn’t she?
Which is pretty much what he said to her when they brought her back. But still, that doesn’t mean she can be treated like she’s just some tool, to be used as he sees fit and then… what? Discarded? Eliminated?
She suddenly finds that it’s probably best not to think about what he might do if he ever decides that he’s done with her.
And, as if all that weren’t bad enough, Alirria Rising is this week, and she doesn’t even have a date.
Some weeks, the wind really blows against you.
Dortmunder
First Post
spyscribe said:
If I was drinking something at the time I read that, it would be all over my screen.
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