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Source: (consider it)
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Thread: Circus: The Story of the Kavetseki Incident (RPG)
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Ariston
Insane Unicorn
# 10894
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Posted
The scouting party found Mary at the altar.
"My Lady. We return. Tresor, inside. We'll join you."
Foret paused a moment before realizing this was addressed to him, but went in. A serving boy in a warehouse wouldn't be noticed, but might notice something himself.
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“Therefore, let it be explained that nowhere are the proprieties quite so strictly enforced as in men’s colleges that invite young women guests, especially over-night visitors in the fraternity houses.” Emily Post, 1937.
Posts: 6849 | From: The People's Republic of Balcones | Registered: Jan 2006
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Curiosity killed ...
Ship's Mug
# 11770
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Posted
Those curing the meat reached out to touch and sample the cured horsemeat Er offered them. They felt the texture and tasted, murmuring appreciatively. The man who looked to be in charge of the butchers began questioning Er.
"When was this cured?"
"Over a week ago"
"How has it been kept?"
"In our packs and in the wagons we travelled in"
"Can you show us how to do this?"
"I can show you. How much of this oxen meat do you need to cure for later? We'll need salt water and a fire, can we do that here?"
Er and the group became absorbed in technicalities and working out how best to cure most of the meat, which looked to take them some time. Er, however, did not forget his reason for staying in the warehouse and angled himself to keep an eye on the wrapped chests stacked on a shelf in a quiet corner.
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Mugs - Keep the Ship afloat
Posts: 13794 | From: outiside the outer ring road | Registered: Aug 2006
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Net Spinster
Shipmate
# 16058
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Posted
"Thank you, Jetse", Mary replied, "Clawdine, Frithwynne, and I have found the house where we can sleep. Clawdine is growing her mushrooms; the space is sparse but sheltered and the house looks easy to defend." She paused and looked at an elderly gaunt couple hurrying fast, "I checked the merchant guild, closed but not empty; we can petition in two days time on the first; I don't think petitioners are often successful. Those guild insiders do not seem to lack food. The citadel is also closed and guarded. And you?"
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spinner of webs
Posts: 1093 | From: San Francisco Bay area | Registered: Dec 2010
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Posted
Clawdine picked up the snake and draped it across her shoulders. Together they went down the ladder and two flights of stairs to confront the dwarven doormakers. When she appeared in front of them they stopped and stepped back nervously. Honed Blade, alerted by the cessation of hammering, appeared behind them.
Clawdine stood with her hands on her hips and looked down at the three rugged faces. “Wotz all this about, then?” she asked, indicating the unfinished carpentry.
Honed Blade stepped forward. “Mistress, we don’t want to upset you. Ironfoot asked us to look after you, and we are trying to do that. We simply want you and the mushrooms to be safe.”
“From wot?” Clawdine demanded. The snake raised it’s head questioningly too, so that Honed Blade was looking at two sets of eyes.
“From…others… who might try to take you away from us…” he faltered a little, for the snake was inching forwards towards him.
Clawdine snorted. “Do yer be wanting more mushrooms from me?”
Honed Blade spread his hands. “But of course. We have been half starved for so long now, your mushrooms are worth more than diamonds.”
“Then make yer door ter keep ‘em safe from prying eyes, but yer gotta give keys fer it to me and ter each of me feller travellers. No keys, no more mushrooms. And I have a few things I want brang ter ther roof, startin’ with containers of earth mixed w’ nightsoil.”
Clawdine turned on her heel and went back up the stairs, trailing one hand along the crevices in the damp brick wall as she went. Wherever her hand touched spore, a mushroom popped out and continued to grow behind her.
Downstairs three voices began talking at once, and then the hammering recommenced.
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Eliab
Shipmate
# 9153
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Posted
The practice yard behind the Poratis villa echoes with the clash of blunted blades, as blows are parried or strike home against armour. The Duke believes in training his men rigorously, and his sons have been brought up to lead by example.
Bortacles gulps down a refreshing draught of ale, before laying aside his heavy pollaxe, and unlacing his breastplate, before finishing the afternoon session with the rapier, mercifully light by comparison to the helm-crushing tool of war. He is no natural swordsman, but discipline and practice have made him a serviceable one, and he emerges from the bout a narrow victor. Had the blades been sharp, though, he reflects uneasily, his opponent's touches (nine to his twelve) would have cost him the use of his swordarm, two fingers and at least one lung. He walks wearily to the villa door, stripping off his padded practice gear as he goes.
At the front entrance, a visitor regards the servant on duty with harsh, unblinking eyes.
“He will see me. And you will not stand in my way.”
“And you are … ma'am...?”
“The one who holds his soul, his oath, and his life. You will admit me. You can do so with a coin and my blessing, or with empty hands and my curse. The choice is yours.”
The woman's right hand twitches curiously, and as the servant opens his mouth to send her away, his jaw suddenly spasms with an unbearable cramping pain that stabs through him from temple to thigh. Gunriana drops a silver piece into his unresisting palm and steps past him into the hall. She looks around, taking in her surroundings.
“Tell my Bortacles that I am waiting.”
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"Perhaps there is poetic beauty in the abstract ideas of justice or fairness, but I doubt if many lawyers are moved by it"
Richard Dawkins
Posts: 4619 | From: Hampton, Middlesex, UK | Registered: Mar 2005
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Doublethink.
Ship's Foolwise Unperson
# 1984
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Posted
Following a short interval, a houseman opens the door of the reception room in which Guriana waits, admitting Boracles Poratis
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All political thinking for years past has been vitiated in the same way. People can foresee the future only when it coincides with their own wishes, and the most grossly obvious facts can be ignored when they are unwelcome. George Orwell
Posts: 19219 | From: Erehwon | Registered: Aug 2005
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Curiosity killed ...
Ship's Mug
# 11770
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Posted
Er stood with the group butchering the meat ready to preserve it, showing the others the techniques that would cure the meat effectively. After the first few attempts, as everyone learnt the new tricks and didn't need to be shown every time, the group began to chat. The man who seemed to be in charge was a chatty older man called Denvil.
Er wondered aloud what had happened to the city. He'd been travelling overseas for so many years and had come back to find out what had happened to his cousin Patch Maker who had run a meat stall in the town 20 years ago or more. He was told,
"Mebbe he wouldn't go along with Trepik and Yaris or the mercer's guild?"
Another chimed in, "or could be they'm not liking the competition and he got run out of town."
Er looked puzzled and queried, "So you have to work for Yaris, Trepik or the mercer's guild to have meat?" The other butchers nodded as they continued busying their hands.
"We travelled with Trepik. He was killed on the road. Would the Lady Yaris know this?"
"Oh, yeah'm. Was the first news brought to us'm from the gate. 'Course she'm been told."
"She's a witch, she is," chimed in Denvil, who seemed less cautious that some of the others. The others looked shiftily around and Denvil continued, "She's bewitched Duke Poratis, he could stand up to her if he would, but he don't"
"It is true," another agreed, slowly, "that the other nobles don't agree with the guild council, but they don't say so, and if Duke Poratis don't stand up to the guild, the others daren't."
"Wonder what would happen if the other nobles did argue with the Guild," mused Denvil. Er looked at Denvil thoughtfully.
The group concentrated as Er showed them the next stage in the curing process, but the conversation soon drifted back to Er's cousin Patch.
"Do you think my cousin Patch could have sailed somewhere?" he asked
"The harbour hasn't had working boats for twenty years, not properly, just the occasional fisherman when they got hungry enough," answered Denzil
"Well there was a bit of smuggling until ten years back," another man commented.
"Yeah, wisht them Gasloughs would go back to smuggling, better than they'm doing now."
"They'm can't do that, they can't put out to sea and come back alive and you'm know what it's like coming through the isthmus into Cimenster," Denvil said, looking at Er.
Er raised his eyebrows, "What are they doing now?"
"They'm making it even harder to trade for them few people who do. 'Protection' they'm calling it, but it's bloody daylight robbery."
"Least ways you can spot them coming."
"Yeah, they blue bandanas do warn us it's them and to hide the goods."
"Not sure it's all the Guild and the Gasloughs," another man muttered.
"Oh, you'm be thinking of them strange characters with the big teeth and smooth skin who keep asking questions?"
"That be them."
"Where do you think they'm come from?"
"No idea, but they make my flesh creep. Makes me feel so unsafe near them."
"They'm staying down the harbour, on the front."
"Are they? That's not where I'd want to stay. Too close to the sea, and that bain't safe no more."
Er wondered if these odd characters were anything to do with the Sharklord.
"I wish whatever is happening to Cimenster would stop," sighed another of the men.
"It do be getting worse," replied another.
"Yeah, the last ten years we've had nothing but harder and harder times," Denvil agreed.
While they chatted the men had reduced the pile of meat for preserving into chunks and put them into curing solution to cure overnight. Er turned to Denvil and asked if there was anywhere they could go for a drink after they'd finished their work and Denvil told him of a discreet drinking place on the harbour front. Er turned to the group and asked, "Who else has worked up a thirst then?" to be told that all but Denvil had to go home to wives and children, with their hunks of meat.
Er hoped that if he got Denvil to one side he could persuade him to join with the Kavetseki party. He wondered what was happening with the diamonds and was hoping that Dorainen had been able to keep an eye on them while he worked.
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Mugs - Keep the Ship afloat
Posts: 13794 | From: outiside the outer ring road | Registered: Aug 2006
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Eliab
Shipmate
# 9153
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Posted
“Can I assist you, mistress …?” asks the young nobleman with unconvincing civility, as he steps through the doorway.
He is wearing a light silk shirt in place of his quilted doublet, and is beginning to think it was a mistake to put it on before the luxury of bathing. His man was, however, quite insistent that the visitor needed to see him urgently before she could be persuaded to depart. The visitor does not reply, and instead looks him up and down, with something part-way between someone trying to remember a face, and a sergeant-at-arms looking to find fault with a novice spearman.
“Do I know you?” he says, with less confidence.
The eyes fix upon his. There is no particular reason why Bortacles should recognise eyes he saw only once, twenty years ago, in the face of a teenage girl, but something about the travel-worn face of the woman staring at him makes him distinctly uneasy.
“Say your piece, woman, and begone. I have business to attend to.”
That is not good. Something of his father's bluster and arrogance has fastened on his soul. Gunriana has her decision made for her.
She steps towards him, tearing off the silk glove from her left hand.
“Do you know me!” she hisses, spitting the words at his astonished face. “All of my body you would have known, had you been true to your vow, save only this mark. This is Hagall, the hail-rune, rune of woe, rune of the netherworld, rune of cursing. All that I am was yours, and only this would have been withheld from you, had you kept faith. But you have given this body and soul...” she seizes his shirt in her left hand, then thrusts him away dismissively “...given it to another, against your sworn word, and while I yet live. And now, Bortacles, this mark of woe is all of your portion in me, and curses are all of your future, for you have shown contempt for a daughter of the fates, and nothing is left for you but weeping and weakness.”
Bortacles mouth falls open as he tries to make sense of this unprovoked tirade. There are, it is true, women in his past who might perhaps have something against him, but surely none with such cause for spite as this. A very dim memory stirs, as he thinks on the woman's mention of vows and sworn words. He never swore faith to a woman except his wife … except for his wife and that girl he met as a boy, the one who was lost at sea …
“You are...”
“Gunriana de Vanés, Bortacles. Your betrothed.”
“But you died!”
“No, Bortacles. As you can see well enough. I was and am and will be alive until it pleases my mothers to take me to them. I was alive when you took my cousin to your adulerous bed. I was alive when you promised her what was mine. If I had been lost through chance, and you acted in ignorance, the fates might perhaps forgive you, but I was lost, for a while, through the schemes of an ally of your House, whose rise to power you have abetted, and who even now leeches the life from your city and people, as my curse will leech the life from your very bones.”
She pauses to let that sink in. Even a pampered aristocrat could not be oblivious to the misery of Cimenster. And there was good in Bortacles, if she had the art to find it.
Gunriana twists her hands together to form Ar, the turning year, ripping away the veil of years and speaking directly to the soul of the nervous eight year old boy who had once promised that soul to her.
“My Bortacles, I know you were not at fault. I know you were told I was dead. I was promised to you, too, and I cannot hate you. Nor could I wish to deprive my cousin of the joy she has in you. But still, you were not at fault when the poison entered your city, and yet your city is dying. Surely you see that? You were not at fault when you broke faith with me, but still, my mothers will not let a rune-marked daughter be treated so. Broken faith is as poisonous to the noble heart as intrigues and lies are to a people. If you help me now, you cannot give me back the years that I was lost, but you can free your father from the snares of the one who took me from you, and your people from the poison of this pointless war, and then, perhaps, we can both take new life, in place of curses.”
Bortacles is surprised to find his eyes filling with tears. Every sight and sound and smell of the dying city that he has been ignoring, thinking he could do nothing to relieve, is suddenly sharp and personal. He did not think he could weep over such memories. Childish tears had been beaten from him long ago. 'Weakness and weeping' she had said – was that coming true so quickly? He scarcely trusts his voice and he speaks in a whisper, still uncertain.
“Help you how?”
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"Perhaps there is poetic beauty in the abstract ideas of justice or fairness, but I doubt if many lawyers are moved by it"
Richard Dawkins
Posts: 4619 | From: Hampton, Middlesex, UK | Registered: Mar 2005
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Posted
Clawdine busied herself on the roof. Everything she asked for was brought to her, and soon she was surrounded with all manner of containers of soil mixed with dung. Nervously, a dwarf plopped an old half barrel in front of her, and stammered that they had now brought all the chests, cases, boxes and pots they could find in the house, except for their cookware. A bucket relay was in progress to fill them to the top with earth.
Clawdine grunted, and demanded to see the cooks. "Take me to yer kitchen, master dwarf," she said. "I needs to ax them that use it a few things."
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Autenrieth Road
Shipmate
# 10509
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Posted
Keep your oath.
Don't be selfish.
Guild hall open.
Guild master available.
Frithwynne repeated these to herself while Mary prayed. When Jetse and Foret arrived, Frithwynne slipped from the wall.
"I'll meet you again at the dwarfs' house," she murmured to Mary, and crossed the street to the shrine.
The feet of the Sea Mother were chipped all around the top, as if they had been gnawed by sharp triangular teeth. Frithwynne walked slowly around the shrine, and then around the remnants of wall that seemed to have formed an enclosed courtyard for it. She wondered if there were anything to be ***found***, perhaps something left ***hidden*** by the onetime worshippers, before whatever attack had destroyed their shrine.
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Truth
Posts: 9559 | From: starlight | Registered: Oct 2005
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Net Spinster
Shipmate
# 16058
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Posted
As Mary talked with Jetse, she noticed Milt Docker approaching. They paused and Milt asked, "Mistress Hawser, my father sent me to find you, he would like you to meet a friend of his, Rafe Hawser." Milt stopped and then continued, "Is he kin to you?"
"No," Mary replied, "but I know some Hawsers of Cimenster". This was true, the Hawsers were rope makers, the very line she had tied around her waist was Hawser made perhaps why she had chosen her alias. The Hawsers were also clients of the de Morgans or had been. "Jetse, I think I should go to meet Master Hawser. Shall I meet you back at Ironfoot's place as sunset?"
[ 28. August 2014, 02:26: Message edited by: Net Spinster ]
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spinner of webs
Posts: 1093 | From: San Francisco Bay area | Registered: Dec 2010
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Ariston
Insane Unicorn
# 10894
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Posted
quote:
Originally posted by Net Spinster:
"Shall I meet you back at Ironfoot's place as sunset?"
"Back to Ironfoot's Lodge by nightfall. New Mřrkborg first."
"You are friends of Ironfoot?" asked the wizened dwarf.
"Yes."
The dwarf nodded. "I'll stay here, if you don't mind. Old and stiff. Ask for Mangesangn. Or Rundřje."
"Who sends me?"
"Mentoren."
"Tresor. Come." Foret emerged from the warehouse. The two of them set off back towards the slum.
Jetse questioned Foret as they walked along the seawall. The boy had seen much, and Jetse was able to deduce still more from what his Hand told him. That the Gaslough company had a remnant in Cimenster was not entirely unwelcome news; though his old contacts were no doubt gone, he'd had many dealings with them in the past. While few would likely have known Polytrope and his crew personally, perhaps one or two might remember the days when he was employed by the Mystery and Fellowship . . .
Blue bandannas. Good. Watch. Useful later. Ah. Arrived.
"You again. Why? We have nothing. Here to make trouble?" Clearly, the dwarves weren't used to visitors.
"Mentoren sent me. Find Mangesangn and Rundřje."
The dwarf snorted. "And who do you think you are to make demands? The Markgreve of Skyggevćg? Thautam's Hierophant? Or the Jarl back from the dead?"
"Kaptajn Ingen asks."
"Kaptajn Ingen? Common name. Mine too. My mother's. Kaptajn Ingen killed her. Kaptajn Ingen saved me from the Udrensning. Kaptajn Ingen watches over me. Who else might you be?"
"Uthuze Polytrope has returned."
"Polytrope? You turn and turn again. Turn enough, come back to where you were. Keep turning, return once more. All those knots you turn yourself with your many turns. Save the trouble. Stay at home, in your room. I'll stay right here."
Jetse sighed. Damned dwarf. Maintain secrecy. Reveal nothing. Damned dwarf.
"You know an Ankou an Gwened?
The dwarf looked straight at Jetse.
"Last heard of him twenty years ago. A bit more. Just before the Udrensning. A strange man, I heard. Born into the dark. Granny was the Jarl's sister they say. Taken by the City's legions when ilithids came. Everywhere after that. Dangerous. Untrustworthy. You knew him?"
"Looking for."
"Don't know why. Best if he's dead. Joined those he took. But Rundřje would know, Herre Polytrope. This way."
[ 28. August 2014, 04:17: Message edited by: Ariston ]
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“Therefore, let it be explained that nowhere are the proprieties quite so strictly enforced as in men’s colleges that invite young women guests, especially over-night visitors in the fraternity houses.” Emily Post, 1937.
Posts: 6849 | From: The People's Republic of Balcones | Registered: Jan 2006
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Posted
Clawdine followed the dwarf down the stairs to the ground floor, where a number of doors opened off the square entry. To the left of the front door and opposite the newly gated stairwell was an ornate set of studded doors. Clawdine moved towards it, but the dwarf shook his head. "That's the Gathering Hall. Not that there's been any gatherings this long while. Not much to celebrate about these days. Anything of value was sold years ago. It's mostly empty."
He led her through a plain door opposite the front entrance and down a few steps into a long and sparse kitchen. A wizened dwarf woman stood stirring an enormous cauldron full of mushrooms. Around her excited women and children were chattering non-stop, their hollow eyes fixed on the pot simmering in the fireplace.
Clawdine looked at them pityingly. "Yer poor wee mites," she exclaimed. "There be hardly any flesh on yer at all." By comparison Clawdine was mountainous. The chattering stopped, and they gathered around her. When one of the bolder children poked at her huge girth to see if it was real, Clawdine guffawed in delight.
"I know yer like mushrooms," Clawdine said to the women, "but mushrooms on their own ain't much of a feast, and yer will be havin' important company ternight." She winked at them. She didn't really know if there would be anyone other than her fellow travellers present for dinner, but she was sure that by now rumours of their exploits would be circulating, thanks to Ironfoot. "I need yer help."
She explained what she was after, then returned to the roof. Soon, a timid face appeared at the top of the ladder, and a scruffy basket was pushed towards her. In it was a withered turnip top, a necklace of dried pumpkin seeds, a few precious vegetable peelings, and a bonnet band with a sprig of lacquered cloudberries stitched on it. To this bounty she added the contents of her drawstring pocket, with its oranges seeds, apple core, date pits, corn kernels, old nutmeg and blackberry bits.
Clawdine cackled delightedly at the thought of what was about to happen, and set to work once more.
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Adam.
Like as the
# 4991
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Posted
Dorainen watched as Er and their new companions worked and talked. He hoped the talk contained information that was useful to them, but it was hard to hear them over the noise of the work. He made etched in his mind the location of the diamond chests, the distinctive grain of the wood they were made of, the shape of their handles and a few other details to make sure they didn't get lost in the shuffle. He wondered if anyone would try to stop him if he just explored the warehouse a bit.
Wandering away from the working party, he noticed the wicker screen at the far end. Could he hear voices behind it? Coming closer, he realized that he could, and it was far enough from the workers that he could start to hear what they were saying. Approaching from the side, and staying behind a stack of crates, he could hear the conversation quite clearly without being seen. And what he heard was quite fascinating.
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Ave Crux, Spes Unica!
Preaching blog
Posts: 8164 | From: Notre Dame, IN | Registered: Sep 2003
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Net Spinster
Shipmate
# 16058
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Posted
"Fare well, Jetse", Mary said and then turned to follow Milt. He took her up the hill and away from the harbor and eventually to a narrow street for the rope makers guild judging by the sign. At the second house, he knocked and they were quickly whisked in. Old Docker was there, "Mistress, you and yours do stir things up don't you". They went upstairs to the common room of the house and Old Docker introduced her. "Mistress Mary Hawser, this is Trader Rafe Hawser and his wife Amfi de Morgan Hawser." These were a couple of about 40 years of age. "His brother Boetius of the rope guild and his wife and my eldest sister, Mawd". This couple was considerably older.
Mary clasped her hands and bowed in greeting.
"You're no Hawser", said Boetius.
"No Master Boetius, my real name is Mary Drake", replied Mary deciding to gamble and remembering Boetius from many years before.
"From?" he asked.
"Aisling", she replied.
He looked at her closely for a minute, "What happened to the Kavetseki that has been missing these 20 years, the guild never got the hemp promised?"
"It", Mary choked, remembered the hold full of hemp bespoke to the rope guild almost like it was yesterday, and could not continue. "I [i]can]/i] not say", she replied, "We were lost many years ago. Cimenster isn't what it use to be either."
"Aye", said Amfi speaking for the first time, "Desolation, trade gone, forests gone, the de Morgons are gone except for me, people starving in the streets, ruffians roam, and Yaris and the Duke seem to do little good. Can't blame the Duke for the first few years, just a kid then but for the last few."
"It seems I can't offer much but perhaps we can ***barter*** for something else. We are dining at the house of Honed Blade this evening and providing the food." Mary hoped Clawdine was holding to her end of the bargain little knowing what their sleeping area was being turned into.
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spinner of webs
Posts: 1093 | From: San Francisco Bay area | Registered: Dec 2010
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Posted
It was the apple tree that did it.
Honed Blade had been keeping a respectful distance, while still attempting to oversee what was happening on his roof. As the strongest part of the roof was the granite slab, that was where they had placed the largest containers.
Clawdine seemed to be in a world of her own as she planted and watered and whispered to the soil. He was a little alarmed at how quickly their water supply was diminishing, and even more alarmed when he saw the size of some of the greenery erupting out of the tubs and chests. The parapet around the roof was not high enough to shield the corn and the fruit trees from the houses around them, or the street below.
The dwarf quickly organized some more carpenters to dismantle the shelter on the roof and turn it into a privacy screen where it was most needed. By the time the corn cobs were ready for picking, the screen was in place. Clawdine worked on, oblivious to the dwarves, whose eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets at what they were witnessing.
Several small orange trees, two date palms and a little nutmeg tree were inching higher by the minute. In the largest tub, an apple tree was growing, and small flowered shaped green fruit was beginning to appear on its slender branches.
Clawdine clucked her tongue. "You'm needs more water, me luvverlies," she said to the trees. "We needs yer fruit ter be good 'n plump." She clapped her hands, and immediately a thunderclap replied from the sky. "I hope yer don't mind gettin' wet," she said to the dwarves, as it began to pour.
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Posted
The apple tree glistened in the rain, and the flower shaped fruit grew plump and pink. Honed Blade stared at it in disbelief. A tear appeared in his eye. “Mistress,” he said, “ This be a wondrous thing. We haven’t seen a Blencher for many a long year.”
Clawdine nodded as the rain stopped, and picked an apple to sample. “They be ready, she said to him.” Tell yer people to bring their buckets ‘n baskets ‘n aprons to fill ‘em.” She supervised the harvest, being careful to pocket a sample from each container to ensure the future.
Honed Blade made sure that each of the workers received a reward for their help, and that every piece of produce was cleaned and carried reverently downstairs. Soon all that was left on the roof were bare stalks and tumbled earth. As the last basket disappeared down the ladder, Honed Blade turned to Clawdine. “Will there be more? Blenchers are worth even more than mushrooms around Cimenster.”
“That depends,” said Clawdine, as she pulled an apple out from under her shawl, “on ‘ow well yer treat us ternight.” The snake wound its way up the apple tree and lowered its head towards them from a branch. “I dern’t think some of my companions ‘ll be very impressed at bein’ made ter sleep up ‘ere on zackcloth.”
“Mistress,” said Honed Blade. “If you can bring us more apples and mushrooms, and if they taste as good as they look, then you may have the best beds we have.” Clawdine offered him the apple. “Try it,” she said, “’n tell me ‘ow good ‘tis.”
Honed Blade made short work of this gift. Clawdine held out her hand for the core. “Well?” she enquired.
The dwarf bowed. “Truly, you have a mighty gift, and we are in your debt today. You are both talented and generous. Whatever you ask for, we will try to provide, great mistress.”
Clawdine laughed and clapped her hands with delight. In the twinkle of an eye the age and weight dropped off her like her ragged clothing. Another thunderclap resounded overhead.
Honed Blade turned and fled, and the last sight he had of his strange houseguest as he dropped down the ladder, was of her dancing naked in the rain around the apple tree with the jeweled snake draped across her shoulders.
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Curiosity killed ...
Ship's Mug
# 11770
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Posted
Er and Denvil made their way along the harbour chatting, away from the warehouse, towards a decrepit looking building tucked out of sight but with a view around the harbour. He thought that Denvil might make a useful convert to their cause if he could persuade him. The poverty of the houses and streets continued to depress him and had made him determined to do something for Cimenster, especially as whatever they did for Cimenster was almost certainly going to help him and the Kavetseki too.
Denvil led them into the worst and roughest tavern Er had ever seen and he'd sampled quite a few on his travels, having made a point to seek out interesting beers and experiences wherever he was. And here the beer could only be described as another experience. He wondered quite what had been brewed to produce it, because hops and grain didn't seem much in evidence. Really better not to ask, he thought. Er wondered if it was a smugglers' meeting place and was not surprised to observe a number of blue bandanas in amongst those gathered there.
The sudden localised rain squall across the harbour attracted a certain amount of comment across the bar. Er had encountered a number of these, travelling with Clawdine. For once he was quite pleased to see this one, it told him where to find her. He looked at Denvil,
"When did you last taste fresh mushrooms?"
"That was years ago."
"If you follow me, we have mushrooms to eat tonight." Er gestured to his pint, "they'll taste better than this."
With Denvil at his heels they headed around the harbour area to where a rainbow and rain shower competed in the sky.
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Mugs - Keep the Ship afloat
Posts: 13794 | From: outiside the outer ring road | Registered: Aug 2006
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Adam.
Like as the
# 4991
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Posted
Dorainen could hear two voices, clearly human, one male and one female it seemed. The lower voice referred to the higher as "Milady" and the higher never used a name for the lower. It seemed the pitches matched their relative status. They knew about Trepik's death, but didn't seem particularly interested in the cause. The possible effects, rather, dominated their conversation. There were concerns about how loyal Trepik's team would remain, but to whom, he couldn't tell. To each other? To Yaris? Their firm, on the other hand, is 'tight' (once the woman used the term, the man kept repeating it). The woman reminded the man how important it was that the people don't find out about the 'understanding' and he agreed, but Dorainen couldn't tell what understanding that might be.
Dorainen kept listening for talk of diamonds, but none was made. Instead, they were worried about the snake being missing. Apparently, it was 'needed' (for what, was left unsaid). When the woman said how mad Yaris would be, that blew Dorainen's theory that it was Yaris herself he was listening to. The only other name that came up was that of the Gasloughs (again in third person). They were useful, it was agrred, as a distraction. The man was worried they would grow too powerful. Dorainen couldn't tell if the woman agreed that that was likely or not, but she certainly agreed it would be bad if it happened.
The man at one point asked when 'the time' was set for (again, for what was frustratingly tacit) and was told that it was "two nights hence, the night of the petitioners hearing, at midnight." It seemed that this was maybe the piece of information the man had been looking for, for shortly afterwards the conversation seemed to end. Dorainen got out of the way quietly enough and ensured he wasn't seen as he exited the warehouse.
Er and the men had left, but as soon as he got outside he saw Mary Drake walking somewhere with a man he recognized from their caravan. He greeted her and told her he had much news, although thinking about it, it was hard to distill much news from what he'd heard, except for the information about the snake. She said she really had to get going, though, and explained how to get to Ironfoot's, where the party was due to regather at sunset.
Dorainen was not sorry for a little peace and quiet, to walk in solitude towards the dwarven house while thinking over what he had heard. How strange, to think of spending the night in a dwarven house!
[ 29. August 2014, 20:23: Message edited by: Hart ]
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Ave Crux, Spes Unica!
Preaching blog
Posts: 8164 | From: Notre Dame, IN | Registered: Sep 2003
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Eliab
Shipmate
# 9153
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Posted
Bortacles and Gunriana arrive at the Ironfoot residence. The nobleman is still feeling uneasy at passing through the poorer parts of the city. He had, on Gunriana's advice, discarded his silks and velvet-lined coat, and taken an unadorned travelling cloak and stiff leather garments which might turn an inexpertly placed blade.
All the same, the rapier is hard to disguise, and to the desperate and opportunistic, that is, most of the hungry denizens of Cimenster, Bortacles' good boots advertise wealth. The thugs that looked at him with outright malice did not unnerve so much as the silent pleading looks of those who had all but given up hope.
"I didn't mean to disregard you, lady ..." he begins for about the eighth time, more to avoid the tension of speaking about those they pass in the streets.
"That matters not," cuts in Gunriana, sharply, "oaths and curses bite the innocent, as surely as hunger. What matter is that your fate and Cimenster's fate is one. We believe that one on the Council both brought this curse on Cimenster, and caused your father to think me dead and give you to another, and that even now they scheme for their own ends and grow wealthy while the people rot. They have your father ensnared, whether by threats, lies, or sorcery you are better placed to judge than I, and when he is freed, and Cimenster is freed, how should the curse still fall on you? But unless they are freed, how should it be that you alone escape?"
Gunriana pauses just before they go inside.
"Welcome to our counsels, Bortacles Poratis. Enter freely, and speak freely. Place your courage, your wits and your heart at the service of your people. That will pay all debts, fulfil all vows. We were fated to owe one another debts we will never pay. What is written cannot be undone. What this city's enemies intend may yet be."
Ushering him into the room she scratches Bjarken on the lintel, the birch-rune, for inspiration, subtlety and strength, and quietly calls for her mothers' wisdom to guide their plans.
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"Perhaps there is poetic beauty in the abstract ideas of justice or fairness, but I doubt if many lawyers are moved by it"
Richard Dawkins
Posts: 4619 | From: Hampton, Middlesex, UK | Registered: Mar 2005
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Autenrieth Road
Shipmate
# 10509
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Posted
Something sharp caught Frithwynne's finger as she ran her hand along the remnants of wall. She paused, sucking on the scratch, and then felt closer to find what it might have been. Loose mortar fell away, and she pried out a triangular tooth, etched with some script. Frithwynne had never learned to read, so she wasn't sure, but it looked different from writing that she had chanced to see before.
Looking closely, she could see more sharp points sticking out from the wall; some widely spaced, some close together. She scraped out a few more, using the first one to pry them out more easily. They all had similar etchings on them.
She turned from the wall back towards the shrine, and saw what she had missed before: a ring of sharp points bristling from the base of the shrine, where it met the earth. She knelt and dug one out. It looked like the others. She uneasily set it back in place. She didn't mind taking from the wall, but the shrine seemed holy and she didn't like to disturb it. She didn't think the teeth were part of the shrine's holy purpose, but they had entered into its circle of influence, and good or bad, she didn't want to touch such power. Perhaps Mary, who spoke to the Sea Mother, would know whether they ought to be removed or not.
She left the enclosure and wandered down to the end of the dock, carrying the three teeth from the wall. She sat, dangling her feet over the edge, and pulled Jack's hat from her knapsack. She held it upside down and placed the teeth in it. She shook the hat a bit as if the configuration of teeth could tell her something.
Three shark fins circled where the calm harbor waters met the rough open sea. Frithwynne watched them: one white, one grey, one almost blue.
She started when a voice addressed her from behind on her right.
"You'm interested in the ocean, miss? That's a good place to watch it, if you'm like to watch. Yaris comes down here sometimes at night, whispers to they'm sharks. Don't know why; surely no good for Cimenster."
The speaker, an elderly dwarf, had by now drawn close enough to Frithwynne to see what lay in the bowl of the hat, and stopped moving so suddenly she almost tripped.
"Oh, begging your pardon, miss, uh, mistress, uh, lady. I didn't mean no harm. The Lady Yaris, oh we depend on her, we do, she guards us from yon --" and she jerked her chin towards the circling fins. "Protects Cimenster, I'm sure she does, it's a hard job but she does it for us, begging your pardon lady, and you'm wearing blue, now why didn't an old fool like me see that, and you'm sure a witch with they'm in your hands, and I'm sure we're grateful for your presence..."
The voice faded as the dwarf scuttled backwards up the dock, bowing as she went, and trying to look in all directions at once.
Frithwynne stared after her, astonished. Yaris? Whispering? Blue? She, a witch? She compared her tattered self to the stern presence of Gunriana, and this time she smiled.
"Well, Lady Frithwynne the Witch, you have come up in the world," she said to herself, climbing to her feet. She placed hat and teeth in her knapsack, and started back to Ironfoot's house.
Retracing her steps first to the Guildhall, she noticed more toothy points sticking out from occasional house walls. At the Guildhall, sharp points almost completely buried bristled across the threshold of the gate.
From the Guildhall she knew how to get to Ironfoot's house, and traced her way there. She would show the teeth to the Lady Gunriana, in case there were aught to know from the etchings, and in case the presence of them lodged in walls all over the city, and especially so many guarding the shrine and the Guildhall, were some danger to the oath-bound group that Gunriana could read.
"If she will read it, and not just say the Fates will decide," grumbled Frithwynne to herself, and then felt guilty. "But are the teeth guarding, or are they attacking? Maybe Mistress Hawser will know something; she knows both the shrine and the Guildhall, at least knows them as they were."
Puzzling over these things, Frithwynne found herself back at Ironfoot's. The door had been fortified since the morning, and the ground around the house was wet, although the rest of Cimenster had been dusty.
Frithwynne knocked.
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Truth
Posts: 9559 | From: starlight | Registered: Oct 2005
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Adam.
Like as the
# 4991
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Posted
Dorainen had gotten lost in some alleys with some very strange smells, but eventually had found some of the landmarks Mary had mentioned and arrived at what he thought must be Ironfoot's residence. He knocked on the door and a gaunt looking dwarf (he hadn't thought such a thing possible!) answered. He had wondered how a dwarf would react to an elf knocking on their door, but had never expected the scared expression he received.
"Please, you've got to give us more time. The last guy they sent, he told us we'd have more time to get it together!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Dorainen, honestly. The dwarf got seemed to think this very worrying.
"Oh, but he said we would. And why are you coming round out of uniform, anyway? How can we be sure you really work for Biracheness if you don't wear your uniform?"
Birechaness, he must mean thought Dorainen. It was a wood elf name, common among their minor nobility, but you couldn't judge an elf entirely by their name.
"I am in league with no wood elf, and wear no uniform, elven, human or dwarf, I am..."
He got cut off by the dwarf: "An elf who isn't a guard? What do you want knocking at my door, then? What do you want in Cimenster for that matter."
"I am Dorainen, a companion of Clawdine, the producer of mushrooms." It felt disrespectful to his race to identify himself in this strange way, but that seemed to be what his oath, and expedience, required.
"Oh," replied the dwarf, "then I suppose you're as welcome as she." His tone seemed to combine relief with resignation. The dwarf had been numbed to the reality that he had no real control over his life. Debt collection had been put off for now at least, but here he was, forced to conclude that an elf was welcome in his home. An elf with a darn funny name too.
Dorainen bowed, and entered.
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Ave Crux, Spes Unica!
Preaching blog
Posts: 8164 | From: Notre Dame, IN | Registered: Sep 2003
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Net Spinster
Shipmate
# 16058
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Posted
Rafe scowled at the mention of the dwarf, Honed Blade, but Boetius noticed and said "Rafe, ignore the rumors sowed by the strife mongers of the city", he nodded in the direction of the top of the hill, "Honed Blade has a good name though his people have suffered worst than most so some have resorted to petty theft of food".
He then turned to Mary, "And the purpose of us going?"
"Can things continue here as they are? We coming has changed things. The Hawsers and the de Morgans have worked with the Drakes before can we not again?" She replied.
"We?" said a voice in the corner, "The Lady Gunriana was lost on the Kavetseki. Is she back? I loved the ballad about her how she was sailing to meet her betrothed here, the mildest and most beautiful maiden in all the lands, when they were attacked by pirates and she threw herself in the water rather than be taken."
"Gunni, quiet!" rebuked Amfi, "Apologies Mistress Drake for my daughter". Said daughter, Mary noted, was a girl of about 15 in a house dress curled up in the corner with a book.
"Accepted" Mary replied though she had a hard time reconciling the image with the actuality of Lady Gunriana. "Lady Gunriana is indeed here."
"Then we go", said Mawd silencing the rest temporarily, "Amfi, Gunni, fill three trugs with wine bottles as guest gifts. Gunni you are coming with us, change quickly." Boetius called for a couple of his journeymen and all six of the men armed themselves with cudgels. Within 20 minutes they were heading out.
Gunni walked beside Mary, "The Duke had a memorial statue put up of the Lady Gunriana with little lambs at her feet and a dove perched on her hand", she burbled, "His son, her betrothed, was so upset he refused to marry until the Duke chose her cousin."
The party moved quickly and alertly and the blue bandana men they saw steered clear from the well armed group. Eventually they reached Honed Blade's house as the sun was setting, knocked, and were admitted by Honed Blade. The scent of cooking food permeated the house. They were escorted upstairs to the room where Gunriana and Bortacles were waiting.
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spinner of webs
Posts: 1093 | From: San Francisco Bay area | Registered: Dec 2010
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Autenrieth Road
Shipmate
# 10509
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Posted
Frithwynne, seated in a corner, watched Mary enter with several companions, and sighed. Now here were the Lady Gunriana who had already arrived when Frithwynne came in, and Mistress Hawser newly arrived, both the people she wanted to talk to. But first the Lady Gunriana had been attended by this young man, and now Mistress Hawser had arrived with a small retinue, and Frithwynne wasn't decided if she could speak of what she'd found in front of the strangers, and she didn't want to make them all conspicuous by asking to speak to them alone, apart from the strangers.
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Truth
Posts: 9559 | From: starlight | Registered: Oct 2005
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Ariston
Insane Unicorn
# 10894
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Posted
Foret noticed the men in the blue bandanas first.
"Still dealing with the Gasloughs?"
The dwarf shook his head, and started slipping a bit behind Jetse.
"Not like the old days. Most of ours ran the sea lanes—no longer. A few who remember still in town, but mostly local youfs. Take from them with nothing to take."
"That's all?"
"A few still run. All we get comes from them. The enforcers take it as tax. Don't respect the runners. Becoming just a street gang."
"Pity. Could be useful. Take. Cover. Both of you."
He handed the dwarf his bow and quiver; his companions fell just a step behind, Foret on his left, axe in hand.
The three enforcers were in the midst of a shakedown of a group of about twelve dwarves living in a tent when Jetse and his companions walked up to them. Two of the dwarves had been badly beaten, and the rest were on the edge between resistance and giving in. Clearly, the appalling conditions had taken their toll—a dozen dwarves could usually overpower an equal number of normal men—and many of the dwarves were obviously sick and nursing injuries from past attacks. At the feet of the lead enforcer was a small pile of rather sad, but unspoiled, potatoes.
"Wha' ye be wantin', haf'man?"
The three men in blue bandanas were strong, but poorly disciplined and poorly armed. A few clubs, a paving stone or two. Good for roughing up dwarves. Not good for much else. They were outmatched. Didn't know it. Yet.
"Taking what's brought in?"
"We bring it. We take it. Filth get too much, take mor'n their cut. We fix't."
"You obey. Runners decide. That's the code."
"An' who ye be tellin' us o' our own law? Ye nay one o' us, outlander, so go teach ye granny t' suck eggs. An' take ye's two filthy kids wit' ye as ye leave."
Jetse's sword came out, and was quickly pressed against his throat; and invisible hand grasped him by the neck and lifted him into the air.
"Ran along the Company when you still sucked. When they were strong. When they would have run this city. You are weak. No runner. Find those who are. The old ones. The strong. Tell them Captain Polytrope lives. Returns. Will have his revenge."
The invisible hand threw the enforcer to the ground, and Jetse's sword point remained at his throat. Foret and the dwarf advanced on the other two, weapons at the ready.
"Go. Tell it."
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“Therefore, let it be explained that nowhere are the proprieties quite so strictly enforced as in men’s colleges that invite young women guests, especially over-night visitors in the fraternity houses.” Emily Post, 1937.
Posts: 6849 | From: The People's Republic of Balcones | Registered: Jan 2006
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Net Spinster
Shipmate
# 16058
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Posted
Mary noticed Frithwyne to the side and was glad she had made it back and that Dorainen was also here though sitting somewhat isolated. Clawdine was also around as the bowl of oranges by an older dwarf sitting on a raised chair at one end showed.
Mawd and Amfi had whispered some instructions or encouragements to Gunni just before they had gotten to the door. Gunni now went to the front carrying her trug of wine bottles which she laid before the older dwarf. Amfi and Mawd laid their trugs beside it. Gunni took a quick breath then recited, "A daughter of the house of Hawser comes with cloudberry wine from the Dwarrow hills above Volga, she asks the Mother of the house of Honed Blade for her mother, Amfi, and the Mother of the house of Hawser, Mawd, to be welcome here this evening, amity to reign."
The dwarf looked at the bottles at her feet, made a sign at which a young dwarf took one of the bottles and put it beside the bowl of oranges. Three other dwarfs removed the trugs. Gunni stepped back and the party moved to one side. Mary had little experience with dwarves and none with them in their halls (or house). She looked at Mawd but it was Gunni who answered, "The Mothers of dwarf houses rarely speak except on most important matters, she accepted the gift so we can stay. Mother and Aunt Mawd have me learning protocol all the time. I'm suppose to go to Barvik to marry my betrothed, a merchant, Jojo Soot, but there is no safe way there now."
Mary nodded glad to have one question answered though she wasn't sure how the Hawsers even with de Morgan connections had managed an alliance with the Soot family, long wealthy from their trade alliances with many of the non-human races. Perhaps Jojo was of a minor line or even estranged, being in Barvik far away from their home cities seemed to indicate that; the Soots were also quite prolific (some rumored they used fertility potions acquired from one or another of their partners).
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spinner of webs
Posts: 1093 | From: San Francisco Bay area | Registered: Dec 2010
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Posted
Clawdine put down her back basket and looked around the kitchen with satisfaction. It was a hive of activity and the smells mingling in the air were pleasing. Bowls of oranges and apples were being carried into the Gathering Hall. Pumpkin soup and mushroom stew were being ladled into tureens. Dishes of corn and root vegetables were being assembled and platters of dates and berries created as centrepieces. No meat was in evidence, but this did not seem to be bothering the dwarf women. The atmosphere was happy and they smiled and nodded at her when she came in.
'Can we help you?" asked the oldest one there. Clawdine looked down. "Mebbe. It's just...well..." she indicated the tatty shawls and skirt she was wearing, now even more stained and ragged after her days exertions." I was wonderin' if any of yer might borrow me a cape or sommat fit fer company."
Immediately the heads of the women bent together and a rapid conversation in dwarvish followed. Finally one of them left, and returned with an ancient cloak that looked like it had once been trimmed with jewels. These had long since been picked off, but an attempt had been made to cover the gaps with scraps of coloured material. They put it on Clawdine, and it was voluminous enough to go around her - though somewhat short.
Clawdine thanked them profusely, and promised to return it later that evening. Then she picked up the basket and went out to the entry. "Shall we?" she said to the snake, and offered her arm to it.
The snake inclined its head, then slithered up her arm and neck to the top of her head, where it arranged itself like a living turban. The torchlight in the entry made its scales sparkle in spectacular fashion. Together they went through the studded doors to join those already in the Gathering Hall.
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Curiosity killed ...
Ship's Mug
# 11770
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Posted
Er and Denvil followed the cloud and rainbow and arrived outside a house with a front door that looked to be recently strengthened. Er was confirmed in his suspicions that this was the right place from the localised dampness, smells of food and general hubbub issuing forth. Denvil was looking around in surprise, "Your party seems to have changed things here already," he said, as Er knocked on the door.
The dwarf at the door looked harassed, "Who'm are you then?" he asked grumpily.
Er looked at him with some sympathy, "Has Clawdine been keeping you busy?" he asked.
"Ooh, she'm been havin' us haul stuff up to the roof, for hours and hours. But then there's this food, never seen anything like it. But she'm a scary woman, particularly with never knowing where that snake is going to pop up."
Er thought about this and realised that Clawdine really had taken the snake from the locked wagon and wondered how clever a trick that had been, as there didn't seem to be much interest in the diamonds, certainly not while he'd been in the warehouse.
"I came into Cimenster with Clawdine, can we come in to see her and the others?" he responded to the dwarf, who smiled wryly and said,
"You and everyone else, it seems."
Er and Denvil walked up the stairs and arrived into the banqueting hall to find Dorainen near the back of the hall, and when he looked around he could see Mary and Frithwynne had made it here already. Denvil's eyes widened as he looked around the room, "Where did you get this food? We haven't seen oranges for years."
Er grinned and said, "Ah, well, that would be telling. But if you stick around with us, we'll see if we can shake Cimenster up."
"If you can shake Cimenster up so we have food like this again, I'm in," Denvil agreed.
Er hoped that Denvil really meant this, but he wasn't just relying on his own skills, he hoped that the evening's events would really convince him. It looked as if all his companions had been successful in reaching groups within Cimenster as there were so many disparate races and peoples gathered here already, and Gunriana and Jetse had not arrived yet, but were no doubt out doing their best to change things.
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Mugs - Keep the Ship afloat
Posts: 13794 | From: outiside the outer ring road | Registered: Aug 2006
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Ariston
Insane Unicorn
# 10894
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Posted
The three toughs backed away a few steps, then broke into a run. Jetse shook his stub arm; whatever magical force made his hand work stung whenever he used it.
"Impressive. What I would have expected from what we heard of you. Come with me."
The three walked to a shack in the center of the ghetto. While there was no confusing it for the High Temple of Thautam or the Exarchate of the Invictus in IJzerhaven, it was, without a doubt, the least run-down structure in the district. It might even have taken a somewhat determined shove to knock it over, rather than just a good gust of wind.
"Inside."
Jetse and Foret followed the dwarf down a few steps dug into the wet, seeping ground. With the door closed, the interior was almost completely dark; thin beams of light poking through the walls soon died in the smoke of the interior coming from the smoldering seaweed being used in place of the usual thick dwarven incense. A new voice spoke from somewhere in the temple, an ancient voice croaking in the dark.
"Your blades, Foarst Jetse."
The dwarves, no doubt, saw Jetse start in the gloom. He had studiously avoided using that name around the dwarves—at least, these dwarves—and certainly not the title he had but little right to, one not even the most deluded of pretenders could claim.
"Bewaker Jetse. No prince." Still, Jetse drew his sword, and took out his ruined halberd blade.
"Foarst I call you. Many died in the Udrensning. It is yours."
"Renounced when I was drafted. Forsook the darkness. Barely had it. A man of IJzerhaven now. Cannot claim Řkseherren's inheritance. A Son of Light. The dark cannot claim me. Nor I it."
"More prince than any here. All of you, look"
Jetse felt the blessed knife cut near his wounded stump. The blood flowed out, and the priest took some and smeared it on his blades, muttering prayers in half-forgotten Old Dwarvish. There in the gloom, the blood formed itself into flowing dwarvish script, glowing with a faint red light:
HALBADANIZ RĆVEN WODURIDAZSON BĆRER MIG
"You cannot escape your past, Halfdwarf, son of the Furyrider. Your names follow you through your many turns. You may not claim the Obsidian Seat, but you must see that your clan's rule is restored."
"I am a man of IJzerhaven. I will restore the Black Chair. But I bear no responsibility for it."
"To the contrary, Guardian Vos." The old priest almost spit the name out between his teeth. "It is because of you that the Seat fell."
"LIES! I never betrayed Mřrkbřrg! Was nowhere near when the Purge happened! Can't remember those days. Wasn't there. Blame another."
"Yet its loss was because of you. Mřrkbřrg would have withstood the siege were it not for you. The factions in the Duchy would never have endorsed a protracted siege. Loss of life. Loss of trade. Loss of money. Revolts would have wracked the Canton. The colleges and trade guilds were already restless. The lower wards were rioting. Too many soldiers away from the City. If they didn't know about the passage to the heart of the third ward, the hidden passage, the Jarl's Way, Mřrkbřrg would have stood. The Udrensning would have failed. It was a team of soldiers from the City who breeched the hidden way. One served with you during the Ilithid Wars. Remembered your ways. How you escaped their advance. Where you rallied, and repulsed the flayers. What you did then to save Mřrkbřrg and IJzerhaven would later doom us all. You may have been away overthrowing some merchant family or other. You may not have intended to kill us all. But you did.
"So here is our bargain, Guardian. You would restore your homeland. IJzerhaven. The Palatinate. You would take this city. Make it yours. Start your war of revenge here. We will support you—but on this condition: IJzerhaven belongs to the new Palatinate. Your home bows to ours. Your liege will be in Mřrkbřrg, not the Citadel. You will be Jetse the Black once more. The Child of Light taken back into the darkness. This we demand of you. Your beloved city belongs to us."
Jetse looked at the old dwarf, and for the first time noticed that the ancient creature was missing an eye—a high priest of the Palatinate, sacrificing the light of the eye to see better in the mind's darkness. One who knew much. A loremaster.
"Your answer, soldier."
******
As darkness fell, Jetse, Foret, and the dwarf who lead them to the temple found themselves back at Ironfoot's Lodge. An older woman, well into middle age, the signs of a hard life written on her face and hands, met them at the door.
"Captain Polytrope?"
"Yes. I sent for you. Keeper Jetse Rćven of the Palatinate. We work with the Gasloughs once more."
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“Therefore, let it be explained that nowhere are the proprieties quite so strictly enforced as in men’s colleges that invite young women guests, especially over-night visitors in the fraternity houses.” Emily Post, 1937.
Posts: 6849 | From: The People's Republic of Balcones | Registered: Jan 2006
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Posted
Clawdine had to admit she was enjoying herself hugely. Mary and her clan had brought a precious gift of wine, Er and Denvil brought strips of cured oxen, and having so much fresh food to share seemed to have lifted the mood of the entire extended dwarf household. She didn't quite understand the blood relationship between Ironfoot and Honed Blade but when she produced a mushroom from behind the ear of one of the younger ones, the dwarves did not leave her alone all night.
Every time she turned her head there seemed to be another dwarf asking her to create more baskets of food. She didn't know where they were coming from, but she had never felt so wanted.
Finally she held up her hands. "Enough. I'd be needin' an 'undred rooftop gardins ter do what yer ax. I can plant ther seed, tha's fer sure, but plants need soil ter grow in. Yer'd 'ave ter find a mountin' o' earth ter get what yer wants now."
Honed Blade stroked his beard, and then nodded to two of the women. "Show her." Then he gestured for her to go with them. She followed them down to a dusty and cavernous cellar. All along its walls were great mounds of earth. Buckets and spades, picks and shovels were littered about.
"What's all this 'ere fer?" Clawdine asked. The snake unwound itself from her head and slithered down to disappear into the shadows.
"Tunnels," said one of the women. "Every dwarf house has them. Not that we've had the energy to make any lately. And the blue bannermen are always filling them in and fining us when they find them. But there's plenty of soil for you."
Clawdine returned to the party thoughtfully. She wondered aloud to Mary and Frithwynne if she should attempt to grow things in the cellar and ask the dwarves to engineer some shafts of sunlight to it, or whether they needed to carry the soil up. And where had the snake got to?
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Adam.
Like as the
# 4991
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Posted
"...tunnels..." overheard Dorainen. Who had said that? Clawdine?
"Excuse me," he called out over the din of the feast. "Did I hear something about tunnels? I don't suppose any of those would allow surreptitious access to important places in this city, would it?"
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Ave Crux, Spes Unica!
Preaching blog
Posts: 8164 | From: Notre Dame, IN | Registered: Sep 2003
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Autenrieth Road
Shipmate
# 10509
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Posted
Frithwynne found herself between Mary and Dorainen at the feast table, and Gunriana next to Dorainen. She had taken out the three teeth and showed them to Mary and Gunriana, asking what they thought or could read in them, of necessity including Dorainen, and not trying to exclude the rest of the Kavetseki group, but also trying not to reveal the teeth too openly to the assembled dwarfs, fearing an unexpected reaction as on the pier.
She was waiting to hear what they might say about the teeth when Clawdine came in with her news of tunnels.
"...tunnels", she echoed Dorainen. "I wonder what's in them? And where they go?" She remembered the fantasy-filled caves of her youth. She hadn't done any exploring of that nature since the loss of the sheep farm, or even thought about it much, but suddenly memories were flooding back.
"I could find my way in them," she found herself volunteering.
She turned to Dorainen. "Important places in the city? Surreptitious access? Where would we want to get to? And why?"
[ 04. September 2014, 05:30: Message edited by: Autenrieth Road ]
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Truth
Posts: 9559 | From: starlight | Registered: Oct 2005
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Adam.
Like as the
# 4991
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"Well, at the warehouse I overheard..." Dorainen filled in whoever could hear on what he had heard. In particular, it was notable that something was planned for midnight of petitioners' day, that we had the snake that was 'necessary' and if we could get into Yaris' mansion and get our hands on the chest, we could thoroughly spoil her plans and put ourselves in a position of power over her. He was still waiting to hear from the dwarves whether the tunnels could be a way in.
"Of course, this would be dangerous. If some people could create a Jetse-sized distraction for those of us sneaking in, it might just work though." He hoped this would pique the guardian's attention.
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Ave Crux, Spes Unica!
Preaching blog
Posts: 8164 | From: Notre Dame, IN | Registered: Sep 2003
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Ariston
Insane Unicorn
# 10894
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"Bigger than me. We have weapons. Tools. Can arm the dwarves. Take the city. Restore the Palatinate. The Gasloughs will be joining us. They know the tunnels. Use them. Built some. They have agents.
Gunriana. Will the duke or his nobles be with us? Men at arms will be welcome. And the citizens. The traders. Will they join us? A large riot will distract Yaris. Her guards will be elsewhere. Her attention, on the city. Not her citadel. She'll notice the revolt. Not the assassins creeping in."
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“Therefore, let it be explained that nowhere are the proprieties quite so strictly enforced as in men’s colleges that invite young women guests, especially over-night visitors in the fraternity houses.” Emily Post, 1937.
Posts: 6849 | From: The People's Republic of Balcones | Registered: Jan 2006
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Eliab
Shipmate
# 9153
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Gunriana places a hand reassuringly on Bortacles' arm.
"Duke Poratis is closely entangled in Yaris' plans. Bortacles assures me that his father would not willingly bring ruin to his own city. He is a proud man, it is true, but he does not forget that to be noble, a man must lead, and not merely rule. It seems likely that there is deception or sorcery at work. Probably both.
We can use this. Bortacles, and his brother Cirallan, both serve as officers of the Duke's personal retinue. There are many warehouses standing empty in Cimenster, and Bortacles' men may well chance to discover in one, not far from the Poratis villa, evidence of suspicious activity - stored weapons, crossbow bolts, perhaps a ballista or scorpion taken from the rotting hulks in the harbour, and, more worringly, runic charms that suggest sorcery is being used in an insurrection. The men tell Bortacles, Bortacles tells his father, Poratis tells Yaris.
If Yaris is a witch, then she will investigate further. I doubt she will trust others to read mage-signs. I would not in her place. Nor will she go onto enemy ground unguarded. Thus we draw her and part of her forces from her mansion to chase shadows.
If we can stage a riot or other distraction at the same time, so much the better. Either way, this gives us time to investigate her lair. And if she is indeed the enemy we take her for, when she returns from her investigation, we will be waiting."
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"Perhaps there is poetic beauty in the abstract ideas of justice or fairness, but I doubt if many lawyers are moved by it"
Richard Dawkins
Posts: 4619 | From: Hampton, Middlesex, UK | Registered: Mar 2005
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Ariston
Insane Unicorn
# 10894
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"Siege engines. Weapons. Good. The treachery of our enemy will be used against her. We seize the armories. Arm the company. Put the citadel under siege. It gets better."
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“Therefore, let it be explained that nowhere are the proprieties quite so strictly enforced as in men’s colleges that invite young women guests, especially over-night visitors in the fraternity houses.” Emily Post, 1937.
Posts: 6849 | From: The People's Republic of Balcones | Registered: Jan 2006
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Eliab
Shipmate
# 9153
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Posted
Gunriana examines the sharktooth that Frithwynne has shown her. As soon as it touches her skin she knows that it has been made a focus of power. Turning it in her fingers she begins to feel cold, cold from the menace the tooth represents, sea-cold, as her mind is drawn to the ocean depths...
"These are symbols, Frithwynne. Just as every man is a warleader within the reach of his sword, the shark is the sealord of whatever is in reach of its maw. These teeth are placed here to put Cimenster under the bite of the Sharklord. They will comfort his minions, strengthen their influence, aid their designs, and make powerful such sorceries as the Sharklord brings against the city. There will be more. Many more.
Because they are so closely tied to him, though, they might be used against him. This is not exactly my craft, the teeth are not runes, though they focus power in a like manner. I could attempt to harm him and weaken his power, given enough of these, but I cannot be sure of success."
[ 06. September 2014, 08:44: Message edited by: Eliab ]
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"Perhaps there is poetic beauty in the abstract ideas of justice or fairness, but I doubt if many lawyers are moved by it"
Richard Dawkins
Posts: 4619 | From: Hampton, Middlesex, UK | Registered: Mar 2005
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Curiosity killed ...
Ship's Mug
# 11770
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Denvil has been sitting next to Er within earshot of the Kavetseki party with his eyes becoming rounder and rounder. Caught up in the narrative, swayed by good food and company he is allying himself with the party, but Er begins to worry that if he leaves to go home he may worry and demur, "Denvil, is there anyone waiting for you at home?"
"No, my wife died in childbirth last month."
"Do you want to stay with us?"
"I want Cimenster to return to the thriving trading city it was when I was a youngster. If you can do that, I'll help all I can and I have nothing to lose now."
Er turned to the others. "Denvil is prepared to help us. He knows the city. Would it help if we searched to see if we can find more of those teeth? Should we destroy them Gunriana? Or should we bring them to you?"
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Mugs - Keep the Ship afloat
Posts: 13794 | From: outiside the outer ring road | Registered: Aug 2006
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Autenrieth Road
Shipmate
# 10509
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Frithwynne says: "Where there's most of them is around the base of the Sea Mother's shrine, where we met Jetse and Foret near the harbour, and across the gate to the Guildhall. Maybe if we removed those we would free the Sea Mother to protect us, and the merchants to arouse from slumber and return to... "
She feels odd appealing to the Sea Morher as a protector -- that's Mary's religion, not hers -- and she doesn't know how to describe what the merchants would return to, or how to put into words how they could help, so she finishes as best she can, hoping this can make sense to the others:
"...to Guildhall open, guild master available."
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Truth
Posts: 9559 | From: starlight | Registered: Oct 2005
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Clawdine mutters to Mary, "Well, if we can bergin ter extract a few o' the shark lord's teeth from Cimenster, that bag o' holdin' yer have might come in useful."
Mary raised her eyebrows. How did the old crone know about the bag of holding? Clawdine chuckled at her discomfort. Just then, Clawdine felt something wrap itself around her left ankle and tug. The snake had reappeared. Mary stepped back in alarm.
The snake slithered to the door and turned expectantly. Clawdine put her hands on her hips. "I think it wants us ter follow!" she said to Mary and Frithwynne. "Mebbe its found sommat."
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Autenrieth Road
Shipmate
# 10509
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"But -- but wait" said Frithwynne, torn between wanting to escape the hot crowded feast hall, yet wanting to understand what was happening and what might be expected of her. "Are we decided? The magic for Mistress Yaris to find, is that... will that... we're not just spreading a rumor, we're going to assemble a horde of arms and there will be actual rune magic there, which the Lady Gunriana will cast? And -- am I needed for anything here, Lady?" (This last addressed to Gunriana.)
"And... I don't know what will work best, but I would like to help us find out who did --that which we know of-- to the... ship." This last was prompted by feeling an intuitive thrum of empathy through her forearm which lay on the table touching Mary's.
"Clawdine, I don't think we have to bargain for the teeth, we can just go and pull them out, they're everywhere. But for a large lot, most quickly found at the shrine and at the Guildhall. But be careful, the locals will think we're witches if they see us with them. Which may be a good thing or a bad thing. They're scared, but if they get too scared they'll attack us."
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Truth
Posts: 9559 | From: starlight | Registered: Oct 2005
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Clawdine followed the snake back down to the cellar. One of the younger dwarves walked alongside her with a torch. The serpents scales glittered and winked as it snaked on further and further into the gloom. Finally it came to a crumbling archway that looked like it had been hastily bricked up. In front of it were a few implements.
The snake circled what looked like an open bottomed bucket with a lever on the side, then, with its tail it picked up a small stick that seemed to have an iron tuliphead.
"Wot's this?" asked Clawdine.
The dwarf shrugged. "Just a clutchbucket and a knabbler. We use them to remove dirt and to pick precious things out of rock faces."
Clawdine took the knabbler from the snake. "Yer reckon we be needin' these?" She tilted her head. "Let's show 'em ter the others. Mebbe they'll know what ter do with 'em."
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Eliab
Shipmate
# 9153
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quote:
Originally posted by Curiosity killed ...:
"[...]Would it help if we searched to see if we can find more of those teeth? Should we destroy them Gunriana? Or should we bring them to you?"
"The safe thing to do is to destroy them, of course."
Gunriana thinks for a moment, then smiles grimly.
"But fearlessness is better than a faint heart, and the length of our lives and the day of our deaths were written long ago. Let us not throw away a weapon we might want to use. Be under know illusions, though. Using these against the Sharklord is no simple matter. Using his own magics, and his own symbols, to work a curse against him is to fight him where he has all the advantages. If we knew more about what he intends, what his weaknesses and desires are, the chance of hurting him would be much greater. At the moment, I cannot think of any place more likely to tell us whether we need fight the Sharklord, and if so, how we do it, than Yaris's mansion."
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"Perhaps there is poetic beauty in the abstract ideas of justice or fairness, but I doubt if many lawyers are moved by it"
Richard Dawkins
Posts: 4619 | From: Hampton, Middlesex, UK | Registered: Mar 2005
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Eliab
Shipmate
# 9153
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quote:
Originally posted by Autenrieth Road:
"[...]we're not just spreading a rumor, we're going to assemble a horde of arms and there will be actual rune magic there, which the Lady Gunriana will cast? And -- am I needed for anything here, Lady?"
"I believe the plan is to collect what information and advantage we can from the Yaris mansion, by stealth if we can, by force if not. Everything else serves that end - by fixing her eyes on the firebrand, we blind her to the blade. Let us put what effort we can into our distractions, and after that, we are all needed for the raid."
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"Perhaps there is poetic beauty in the abstract ideas of justice or fairness, but I doubt if many lawyers are moved by it"
Richard Dawkins
Posts: 4619 | From: Hampton, Middlesex, UK | Registered: Mar 2005
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Doublethink.
Ship's Foolwise Unperson
# 1984
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The Hawsers had been listening carefully, and whispering to Mary. She spoke up, explaining the Hawsers could call on many hands to scour the city for the graven teeth, if the darves could supply more knabblers, the faster it would be.
Ironfoot agreed to supply the tools.
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All political thinking for years past has been vitiated in the same way. People can foresee the future only when it coincides with their own wishes, and the most grossly obvious facts can be ignored when they are unwelcome. George Orwell
Posts: 19219 | From: Erehwon | Registered: Aug 2005
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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Clawdine listened as one by one everyone in the gathering room began to talk about a different future, and what they could do to help bring it about.
Jetse and Gunriana were exploring diversionary tactics.
Ironfoot and Honed Blade were drawing on a napkin as they worked out with Er how to create the new tunnel that was needed.
Mary's clan were keen to gather shark teeth, and some of the dwarves were giving them a demonstration of the knabbler's mechanism, and how to use it most effectively.
Clawdine sat with Frithwynne and Dorainen, and wondered how to keep the food up to everyone.
"It's gonna be a lotta work," she muttered, "until ther food in that there warehouse be lib'rated fer ther poor starvin' things in ther streets o' Cimenster."
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Adam.
Like as the
# 4991
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Posted
Dorainen wandered over to the tunnel making party. "I was wondering... do any of your tunneling ***tools need repair***? I'm not without skill in that regard, if that's needed.
"Also, I'm sure you know the underground regions of this city very well: are they any subterranean aquifers? If any of those might go past Yaris' mansion, you need only get me to it. I can find the mansion from there. Your people may be the tunnel specialists, but water is water and I can ***navigate it.***"
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Ave Crux, Spes Unica!
Preaching blog
Posts: 8164 | From: Notre Dame, IN | Registered: Sep 2003
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Autenrieth Road
Shipmate
# 10509
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Posted
Frithwynne excused herself to Clawdine and Mary and followed Dorainen.
"I have some skill at ***navigating mazes***, when we go into the tunnels. So between both of us -- one, me if by land, and two, Dorainen if by sea -- I think we may be able to make our way wherever we need (or even if the water is not so extensive as an inland sea, Dorainen will still be our best guide). Dorainen is such a long fellow, I'm not sure how he'll fit in a tunnel, but he's lithe, so if he needs to bend over I'm sure he can still manage."
She was feeling slightly poetic, and slightly revolutionary, and a little bit surprised at putting herself forward so much. But the intuitive thrum she had felt of Mary's desires in the matter seemed to have given her courage.
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Truth
Posts: 9559 | From: starlight | Registered: Oct 2005
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Banner Lady
Ship's Ensign
# 10505
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"Well," said Clawdine to the snake, as it settled itself back on to her head in turban fashion, "It looks like we be up fer an adventure, pretty soon."
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Women in the church are not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be enjoyed.
Posts: 7080 | From: Canberra Australia | Registered: Oct 2005
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Autenrieth Road
Shipmate
# 10509
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Posted
Frithwynne wanted nothing more than to escape to the cool cellars and explore these mysterious tunnels. But she was wary of allowing herself to be beguiled by her desires, as she had been by the golden ruby-studded chain.
What to do, what to do? She turned her four principles over in her mind, and her mind caught on "guild master available." What would a guild master do? She had dealt with guild masters over the sale of wool, and they always seemed to be confident about what needed to happen. She herself was not at all confident, but perhaps some plain summing up from a plain lass could help.
"Ummm." She tapped her flagon with her knife. "Ahem." She tapped louder and stood up. "So we will seek to enter Yaris' house by the tunnels"
(she figured all those present had heard pieces of the evening's conversations, so no harm for them to hear it all)
"and the Lady Gunriana will lead the preparation of a scene to lure Yaris out of her house, and"
(she gulped, realizing that she had no idea how to address the man she had heard Gunriana address as Bortacles)
"and the Lady's noble guest will help to convey word indirectly to Mistress Yaris to draw her out of her house. Will we need someone to tell us when she is out"
(Honed Blade stepped forward and nodded slightly)
"or will we simply start in the tunnels and assume that our timing is good?"
"Perhaps those dwarves who were so busy constructing doors today could turn those skills to the reverse use, and unblock the entrance to the most likely tunnel belowstairs?
"And Ironfoot, if you know where more knabblers might be had, the Hawsers who have come with Mistress Mary"
(she was suddenly unsure if she should still call her Mistress Hawser, with all these Hawsers present to put the lie to her claim on that name, but also unsure whether it was safe to say the name "Drake", and so settled on the slightly audacious but certainly safe expedient of referring to Mary by her first name)
"would collect shark's teeth when it is light. They're all over the city, but are so tightly packed at the shrine of the Sea Mother and at the Guildhall that I wonder if those places are particular threats to the control under which this city has been held,"
(she was superstitiously fearful of saying the Shark Lord's name... or title, she supposed, and was glad she didn't know whatever his dread name might be... out loud in front of so many people)
"where it would help us especially to remove the teeth.
"When we go in the tunnels, it seems possible that Dorainen where it is wet, and me where it is dry, and the Lady Gunriana if it is beyond our skills, could guide us to our goal. Clawdine, will you come with us? The snake seems to be your friend, by inviting it with us we can guard it from Yaris, who has who knows what fell purpose for it.
"And Mistress Mary, you know the ways of merchants, if there is aught amiss for what should be the house of an honest merchant, perhaps if you come with us you will be able to tell?
"Master Er and Guardian Jetse, I think you know best your own counsels for how best to help us towards our goal, and how those who you have brought might be most inclined to help.
"Will we start our preparations tonight so as to get ahead of the morrow, or do we sleep and begin refreshed at daybreak?"
She sat down, and realized she was trembling.
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Truth
Posts: 9559 | From: starlight | Registered: Oct 2005
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