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» Ship of Fools   » Ship's Locker   » Limbo   » Circus: The Story of the Kavetseki Incident (RPG) (Page 17)

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Source: (consider it) Thread: Circus: The Story of the Kavetseki Incident (RPG)
Ariston
Insane Unicorn
# 10894

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quote:
Originally posted by Eliab:
"I would be surprised if the Duke's petition is not heard, if we can persuade him to bring it. If not, I imagine that Jetse can deal with this doorkeeper."

"And all others who oppose us.

"The people are with us. They will stay with us. Yaris promises gold. What will it buy? With her, nothing. Put it in your grave. We promise more. Food. Freedom. Life.

"Our proofs of Yaris' treachery will condemn us. True. But her first. We must bend the mob to us. Her head on the gates. Not ours."

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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.

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Net Spinster
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A small earthquake causes the group to shake slightly

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spinner of webs

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Eliab
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"Jormungandur, my brother, stirs. Time to end the game - while he is still restless, before he is fully awake.

I will go to Bortacles and induce the Duke to bring his petition today. If all goes well, I will return here, but if I am delayed for any reason, I will meet you at the guild hall. My mothers will watch over you until we meet again."

Gunriana smiles as she leaves. Her words of farewell are not necessarily a blessing, but what is written is written, and what matters now is to see this war through to the end.

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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

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Eliab
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# 9153

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Gunriana makes her way through the streets as Cimenster begins to awake. There are militiamen and liveried thugs on the streets, most of them bored, but some who appear dangerously alert. The word has gone out to watch the streets, but as Gunriana hurries past a group of guardsmen scuffling with a growing mob of bully-boy apprentices, the authorities clearly do not know exactly who they are watching for.

The poorer areas present little challenge. There are enough drunks, vagrants and known malcontents that the guild officers scarcely note one shabbily dressed woman going about her business, but as Gunriana approaches the Poratis villa, and the people on the streets grow more respectable, she feels increasingly conspicuous.

Stooping down she prises up a loose cobble-stone and wraps the comforting weight in a fold of her sleeve. If she is seen, the thieves' flail could crack a skull, if she can take her victim by surprise, but it would be better not to be seen.


--------------------
"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

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Eliab
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The villa is just ahead. Opposite is a smaller town-house, abandoned months before when the owner could no longer afford the upkeep, with a small porter's shelter at the front. Gunriana staps carefully over the broken door, careful not to disturb the sleeping drunk, and watches the guards outside.

Two of them. Both young. The experienced soldiers must be out on the streets. Gunriana pauses. Approaching them openly may get her taken to Bortacles, but if they lack the confidence to question orders, might just as easily result in an hour or two under guard which she can ill afford.

A wagon creaks up the road, delivering fresh laundry to the household. The guards begin what must surely be an unusually thorough search, and Gunriana decides that no better chance is likely to present itself. She steps cautiously into the street.


“Stop! Hold where you are in the Duke's name!”

Gunsrians freezes, ready to bluff or fight, but as she turns one of the guards is running away from her, up the road, where a cloaked woman spins towards the guardsman, and flicks back her cape to show the hilt of a sabre. The second guard moves quickly to support his companion.

“State your name and business, woman.”

“Guild business. You'd be a smart boy not to interfere.”

“The villa was robbed last night. We have orders from Duke Poratis to question all suspicious characters. And detain them at our discretion, madam. Do not cross us. What's your business?”

“Poratis wasn't the only one robbed last night. My mistress has the same thought as your master – there may be thieves watching this villa, and you, fool, are hindering me in keeping your walls safe. Get back to your doorkeeping.”

“If you have a guild warrant show it, or give up your blade and come with us.”

“It''d take more of a man than you, boy, to take Aliara Vas's blade, but I'll humour you...”

The woman steps back as she offers a sheaf of papers, keeping her sword-hand clear for action. Gunriana steps up to one of the washerwomen.

“Is this normal?”

“Not likely. But these are strange times. Like last night – big storm, which blew itself out, but at dawn the sea was heaving like there were a tempest, and never a gust of wind. Everyone's restless, I reckon”

The older washerwoman turns back from the doorway, laden with washing. “Get a move on, Klarfa! 'Fore those pawing pervs come back.”

Klarfa shrugs, and picks up her burden. Gunriana takes the last bundle and follows her through the door.

Inside, the women see the linens delivered, and collect backets of soiled garments. Gunriana passes the basket she has been given to Klarfa.


“This is where I leave you, sister. I have business here.”

Klarfa hesitates. “You shouldn't be here, should you? I should … “

“You should raise the alarm. Yes, you probably should. But you see, either I'm quite innocent, in which case, you need not, or I'm very dangerous indeed, in which case ...”

Gunriana lets the cobblestone in her sleeve fall, and it hits the floor with a hollow crash. Klarfa jerks sharply, and the witch laughs.

“Be at peace, sister. I am dangerous, but my purpose here is quite innocent.” She spins around and walks confidntly from the servants' quarters, looking for someone who can direct her to Bortacles.

--------------------
"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

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Eliab
Shipmate
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A few minutes later, Gunriana stands in the villa's hall, facing her slightly surprised former betrothed. She gratefully accepts a cup of mixed wine from the Duke's steward, though as she gulps it down she cannot help but notice how weak the taste is compared to the memory of the fire entering her veins. Her ragged appearance, from her hair in short clumps down to the borrowed boots that hang loosely on her feet, is glaring out of place in the ducal villa, but she seems not to notice.

“The spell is breaking. Bortacles. The deep was stirred last night, and the foe beneath the waves is bound and broken. The ships of Cimenster could sail on the next tide after they are repaired, and face no more than the usual perils of the sea. This we have done already. With your aid. The enemy within the walls was distracted, and we won the first victory, though good friends died to do it.

But now I need your aid again, to free your father, your house, your city, from one who would bleed you a man bleeds a pig for puddings. Last night, your father's stud bull was taken from its stall, and slaughtered. I'm told it was a rare beast, and valuable. He is, I do not doubt, angered by the theft, and will want an explanation of why it was taken. If he brings a petition to the guild council today, as a public petitioner, he will get one – and with it, honour to your house, a story to tell your sons and your sons' sons of the part the House of Poratis played in the liberation of this city, and the wealth that the tides of years will bring to your harbour.

Bring the petition, and publish the fact as widely as you can. Many will come to hear – some hoping to have their support for your father taken note of, others in anticipation of seeing a great man caught in folly. That matters not. What matters is that the eyes of the city are present to see, and the ears of the masses to hear, when the story is told. Crowd the hall with friends, or with enemies – with the interested and the curious, with the bored and the malevolent – but crowd the hall. History is made today, and we cannot have too many witnesses.

And a last thing – I do not know how many of the guild militia are accustomed to be present on petition days, but I would think it a thankless, and a somewhat dry, task. If your father is accompanies by his household guards, as I am sure he will be, it would be a kindness to invite the militia officers to let your men take the burden of keeping order, and to allow the worthy militiamen to take some refreshment – the cost of which would be as sound an investment as your house ever made. All I ask of your men, once they secure the hall, is that they give time for all witnesses to speak, and all evidence to be considered, before force is used. Once you have the story, act at your discretion. I ask no more than that.”

Gunriana plants a chaste, sisterly kiss on Bortacles' cheek, and feels the serpent's blood warm her as she prepares for the final confrontation. She looks around at the opulence that she had once thought would be her future lost to her through the chance that caught her up in Kavetseki's curse. She thinks of the ruin and despair that she has brought and yet hopes to bring to her enemies as a consequence, and the joy of that power thrills her once more. What is written is written, but had she been given the choice, there is no question which fate she would have chosen.

--------------------
"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

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Adam.

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# 4991

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Dorainen was pacing nervously. He was worried for the witch. But, he had to trust her, or at least, trust those eyes he'd seen gazing back at him from her wounds to keep her safe. The more pressing need was to get to the guildhall without being caught as thieves. But how to do that? They had little chance of all being lucky. Strangers in a strange city, they'd give themselves away as new and hence suspicious. Everyone would know the thieves were among their number!

Just then, a plot began to hatch in his mind. Calling the others round, he explained. "Who's the only thief that no-one would ever try to arrest?"

Blank looks.

"One who's already been arrested of course!

"Wherever I go as an elf, people assume I'm a guard for someone or another. I've never been asked, 'are you a guard?' only 'why are you not in uniform?'

"If you come to the guildhall as my prisoners, arrested on Poratis' orders, I don't see anyone trying to stop us. The only difficulty might be some of the Duke's own men asking me for my bone fides. If pushed, I'll have to say that Bortacles himself retained me and gave me this order. If we get brought to him, he'll recognize us and we should get brought to under his charge. Either way, we'll get there.

"Who's in?"

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Ave Crux, Spes Unica!
Preaching blog

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Autenrieth Road

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Frithwynne slips the horsehair bracelet on her wrist. It itches, a reminder not to forget the sacrifices of all those who died to get the group this far.

There are still some dwarves moving through the cellar, but no-one paying attention to her. A bucket of water stands in the corner. In the dim light coming down the stairs Frithwynne can't tell how clean it is, but it's better than no water. She strips off her clothes and uses her dampened shift to sponge herself off. She wrings the shift out and pulls it on again. Cold, but it will dry against her skin, if it doesn't freeze her first. She brushes off her kirtle as best she can. Its original clarion blue has been grimed to storm blue, which she can't fix, but she can at least free it of the most obvious chunks of mud. She laces it up, fingercombs her hair, and pushes some dents out of Jack's tricorn hat.

Upstairs in the dining hall, the dwarves tell her that Gunriana has gone out. Frithwynne pulls the gift book from her pack and opens it, leafing loosely through it, to try to see what's in it. Leaves and vines curl around the lettering, occasional pictures of things she doesn't understand appear, most in ink, but some touched with gold and one having a deep watercolor wash over it, in colors that make her heart hurt.

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Truth

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Autenrieth Road

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After a while Dorainen starts hatching a plan. Frithwynne tries to concentrate. Pose as prisoners? It hurts her heart, in a different way from the watercolor.

"Why as prisoners? Why can't we go openly as ourselves?"

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Truth

Posts: 9559 | From: starlight | Registered: Oct 2005  |  IP: Logged
Adam.

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# 4991

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"Because I fear we will then be arrested and languish in some gaol while the petitioners' hearing occurs. Gunriana has risked much to ensure a large audience for this truth-telling. We need to get you there, you and that ship."

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Ave Crux, Spes Unica!
Preaching blog

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Autenrieth Road

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"Me? I'm hardly important. But the ship, yes. All right, I'm in. Wait a bit, I have to get something."

Frithwynne has remembered that she has one horrible, but important, responsibility. She doesn't know how she'll find the resolve to do it, and hopes that it will never become necessary, but she needs to be prepared.

She finds Ironfoot again.

"Could I trade you this knife for one with a wider blade? It need not be any longer, but about yea wide." She shows with her fingers what she needs.

"Eh, that's a wee bitty knife you have. I'm not sure what a dwarf might use it for. But I'll trade you; there's something strange that you're here for, but better than worse, I think."

The knives swapped, Frithwynne returns to the dining hall and tucks her new wide blade in her kirtle top. Prisoners wouldn't be left carrying a knife openly, but if Dorianen's plan works, any guards they meet will likely assume that the prisoners have already been searched.

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Truth

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Net Spinster
Shipmate
# 16058

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Mary listened to Dorainen's plan. "Sounds good but you'll need a badge to mark you as one of the Duke's people or at least something that looks like his badge at a distance."

Gunni from the side piped up, "Blue and white, the same colors as my shawl. Give me a few minutes and I shall make something up." She pulled her waist bag open and pulled out a pair of scissors, a needle and some thread and started cutting up her shawl.

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spinner of webs

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Net Spinster
Shipmate
# 16058

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Mary had spent some time talking to the guilders and to the the dwarves while Gunni worked on making the badge or to be exact two badges since it was likely better for Jetse to pass as a guard than a prisoner. Just as Gunni finished two journeymen returned carrying a large hamper. Mary opened it and pulled out a clean white apron and a bonnet, "These should make me respectable for the petitioning. Frithwynne, look and see if there is something that fits you. They've also brought hair brush and comb so I can do your hair and you mine and a clothes brush to get the dirt off." She looked at Dorainen and Jetse when she said the last.

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spinner of webs

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Adam.

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# 4991

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It was only then that Dorainen looked down at himself and noticed all of the dust. So dry. So un-watery! He gratefully brushed it off, and felt more himself. Jetse demurred. He looked like he'd been through the wars, which, Dorainen supposed, actually made some sense on more levels than one.

He and Jetse attached the Duke's colors to themselves and helped the 'prisoners' to put on light arm restraints. He had Jetse, who had a much better sense of direction, lead them along the streets, while he took the rear.

Everything was still dripping from the storm. More poorly made buildings had suffered quite serious damage. Most people looked in curiosity at the band, but often looked away once they saw the elf.

The journey was messy, but was going reasonably smoothly. As they turned what Dorainen was sure was one of the last corners, past the market place where the traders conducted the legal facade of their businesses, a small wild-eyed boy ran towards them from the left, seemingly oblivious to the context. In the pup's hand was a loaf of bread. They would all have been fine if Dorainen hadn't slowed to get a better look at him. Their trajectories weren't meant to hit, but, though the boy swerved, he still tripped over the elf's leg and face-planted into the mud.

"He looked so like Foret," Dorainen whispered to Mary.

"He's a thief," she whispered back. "Who was he running from is the question now."

It wasn't a question that waited long to be answered. A genuine duke's guard huffed and puffed as he arrived on the scene. He looked down at the boy and then up at Dorainen. The boy wasn't moving, maybe he'd broken an ankle?

"Thank you for you assistance... sir, in capturing this dangerous criminal."

Dorainen was slightly puzzled by his deference, but then realized: this man didn't know his name and was embarrassed by it! He clearly couldn't tell elves apart by face and assumed they knew each other. This made him wonder, was the duke's company so small that he'd expect to know Jetse too? He thought it best to try to avoid that by bluster.

"Yes, well, somewhat disappointed to have to do your work for you. That's not how I remember your performance from when we've served together before." Let's try to milk this guilt for all it's worth.

"Well, sir, the pups can be quite fast. But, let me just cuff 'im, and we'll be on our way."

As he bent down to tie the poor boy's arms, the guard suddenly recoiled.

"May look easy pickings but we've got some bite!" cried the boy, almost giggling. Blast, even his voice was reminiscent of Foret's! Dorainen could hardly just leave him...

By now quite a crowd had gathered around, and the line got quite a laugh. This made it even more unlikely the guard would just leave with his prisoner and not stay to redeem his reputation.

"Well, I think I can leave you to it now, good soldier. I must get these prisoners to the guildhall."

"I'll come with you, they have jail cells there as good as the duke's, and this vermin seems to need as much guard as we can muster. Who are your charges anyway?"

"Oh, these were arrested on a personal warrant issued by the duke. I was especially instructed not to discuss the matter."

"Not talking... sounds like a good order," the guard said, as he planted his boot over the boy's mouth, bent down and tightly tied his once-flailing arms.

"There, what do you think of that binding, sir? No getting out of that, and no comfort while he's in it! That'll show him for his disrespect!"

Dorainen saw no way to do anything about this without breaking cover. He kept repeating to himself that they had a higher calling here, as the guard roughly dragged the boy to his feet, one clearly was injured.

"Sir," he said. Dorainen turned to face him, trying not to show a tear. "Sir, would you permit me to repay you your favor to me? I couldn't help noticing the bindings on your prisoners are awful weak. I'd be happy to re-tie them."

"No, that won't be at all necessary. Please, just walk behind us if you must come. We have very important orders from the duke and we can't be delayed!" Dorainen was getting desperate now.

"Sir, it won't take a moment." He was walking up behind Frithwynne. "I think this one has loosened her bindings, sir. What's your name, my lovely?

"Don't answer that!" Dorainen barked. More calmly, he continued, "we must be on our way, good soldier."

It seemed that the 'good' soldier had only just noticed Jetse. Or, at least, only just noticed that he didn't know him.

"I don't think, I've had the pleasure. Briggs, sergeant-at-arms. You?"

Jetse remained stoically silent, so Dorainen tried to take over.

"You don't know him, Briggs? He's one of the duke's most trusted men, having served him well on many a foreign expedition. Come here."

Briggs approached, and Dorainen whispered: "the last one was very hush hush; I think you know what that would be about," he said conspiratorily. "If you must come with, follow, and don't delay our mission if you value your honor in the eyes of the duke."

"Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"If it's brief!"

Briggs whispered: "There are dangerous travelers in this city now, sir, we were warned of it. I don't know what credentials this man has, but I want to know why someone on foreign detail is leading a party and leaving the elf at the back. Sir... better men than you and I have been taken recently. I think you're... I think you're being taken hostage by these people."

Dorainen could barely contain himself to a whisper: "Why I should have you flogged for your insolence! I should..."

Briggs interrupted. He seemed, most inconveniently, to have found the rare dose of courage that men who think the defining moment of their lives is upon them summon from somewhere. "Sir, I will pay for it if I am wrong, but for the love of the duke's name, let me lead this party to the guildhall."

Dorainen thought for a moment. This wasn't an entirely bad arrangement.

"Have it your way, but leave your prisoner here, he'll only slow us down."

Briggs nodded, but didn't untie him, Dorainen noticed. He could only hope some of the crowd would have pity on the pup.

As he had thought, it was only a short distance now to the guildhall. They were there, at the door. It was a grand building, a wonder to behold in a city so crumbling. The crowd was a strange mix, longterm poor and only recently poor was the main mix, but there were more than a few functionaries, scribes he guessed, but Mary would know better, decked out for the occasion. He scanned the crowd to see if he could see Gunriana.

--------------------
Ave Crux, Spes Unica!
Preaching blog

Posts: 8164 | From: Notre Dame, IN | Registered: Sep 2003  |  IP: Logged
Doublethink.
Ship's Foolwise Unperson
# 1984

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Briggs shouldered through the mute and sullen crowd at the door and hammered for admittance.

The doorkeeper made no trouble and as they entered the main corridor Bortacles strode toward them - he took in the situation at a glance - "thank you Briggs, you may go". Reluctant, consumed by curiosity, Briggs turned and walked back toward the outer door.

Bortacles drew the small party off into a side chamber, once out of general view, the party shed their badges and bindings. Just at that moment Gunriana entered.


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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  |  IP: Logged
Adam.

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# 4991

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Dorainen looked around his companions. Gunriana had been right, it was written that they would be here, that they would be the ones to confront Yaris on behalf of the whole crew of that ill-fated ship. Part of him wanted to sit and plot and scheme, but that part could barely whisper when his elven blood was shouting, screeching at him, to act. He looked at Gunriana and in his mind's eye saw those eyes flashing at him from beneath her scars again.

He walked up to the doors. There was still half an instinct to have Frithwynne listen at them, but he swept that aside. He thought about asking Jetse to break them down, but that was probably overkill. There was enough rationality left in him to just try the handle first.

The door opened to simple room. Everything in it was put together with great care but it entirely lacked ostentation. Yaris was shorter than he'd imagined. Wrinkled, her hair was greying. She sighed as the party filed in, but she didn't display the shock he might have expected. It was almost as if she had always known this was coming. He felt as if he almost detected relief that they had at last come.

Her stillness only unsettled him further. It ended up being Yaris who broken what felt like days of silence: "Speak, then."

"You know who we are. You know we have vanquished your lover, your snake and robbed you of... this ship."

Frithwynne produced the ship and Dorainen took it and held it aloft.

"You know there is more coming, that we shall never cease to we have taken all your power from you, we the crew of the Kavetseki. The only power you have left is to make our victory less painful for you. So, no, I shall speak no longer. Dorainen has spoken all the words you merit to hear from him. You speak, Yaris, you. Just tell us why."

The silence grew to a deafening crescendo. Yaris was looking back and forth at each member of the crew, eyeing them up and down. Was she admiring her handiwork? Waiting for them to speak? This silence was her last weapon to use against them, but Dorainen knew she had not the strength to wield it long.

--------------------
Ave Crux, Spes Unica!
Preaching blog

Posts: 8164 | From: Notre Dame, IN | Registered: Sep 2003  |  IP: Logged
Net Spinster
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# 16058

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Mary stepped up beside Dorainen and looked sadly at Yaris but did not break the silence yet.

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spinner of webs

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Eliab
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# 9153

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Gunriana makes a shallow bow to her adversary as she takes her place beside the others.

"I do not know by what arts you obtained the Great One's blood, my enemy, but it was and is and has always been written that it would come to me..."

she shapes Ar slowly, unthreateningly, as she advances, the rune of plenty and of good endings, calling her mothers attention to this hall. But the snake's mind within her weaves the double meaning – may the rune of time give the time needed to work this poison on her.

"...it would have been poison to you. Even I, fated to be his blood-sister, struggle to keep his might and his hate coiled tight within me. I would know the truth before I let loose the venom that slays gods, for you are mortal, and you will not match the Thunderer's last nine steps before death overtakes you."

A shudder passes through Gunriana's body as she speaks, coming up from her feet to shake her head so that her teeth clatter. She gasps and makes Nauđr, the Binder, to keep the Worm still. Again, beneath that meaning, the serpent is also binding his foe.

Steadying herself, she places a hand of the ship.


“Did you know that there was a shaper in Kavetseki's company? Was it by design or by fate that you stole those years from me? Yet as between us, I declare the debt paid – I am reborn of darkness and salt and fire, and what I have taken is greater than the years I lost.”

Smiling, she traces Bjarken, for new life, a symbol of her goodwill, and, for her dark nature, a blessing on her eloquence.

“But I lost more than years. I lost friends. And for their lives, there must be a reckoning. You cast us into the sea, placed us in the maw of the Shark, but when the sea has taken its tithe, and the Shark's hunger is sated, there is still the Serpent, an ancient malice that none can control but she who joins herself to it with heart and mind and flesh.

I am she. In me you face the Serpent, Jormungandur, before whom earth and sea will boil, and in his name and mine you will answer us.”

--------------------
"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  |  IP: Logged
Autenrieth Road

Shipmate
# 10509

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Frithwynne paused to braid her red ribbon into her hair. She wrapped the gold and garnet chain around her waist, with the ends hanging nearly to her feet. Then she followed the others into the great hall.

She shuddered to hear Gunriana speak of Jormungandur. But Gunriana seemed to be sane still, and speaking for the company, not yet drawn into the serpent's evil. Frithwynne touched her bodice where the small knife was hidden, but did not draw it.

She advanced to stand even with the others, on the other side of Dorainen from Gunriana, and placed a hand on the ship.

She intoned the list of those who had died.

"Answer us, Mistress Yaris!

"You have killed all these companions. Why?

"You have stolen from the Shark Lord. Why?

"You have smuggled diamonds and salt. Why?

"You have stored evil and death at the top of your tower. Why?

"You have held a city in destitution for twenty years. Why?

"You have ruled with the terror of arbitrary executions. Why?

"Answer us, Mistress Yaris!"

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Truth

Posts: 9559 | From: starlight | Registered: Oct 2005  |  IP: Logged
Autenrieth Road

Shipmate
# 10509

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The suspicious guard smacked himself on the forehead. He had been right to be suspicious! He sidled around the room until he reached the leader of the elf-archers, and tried to convey to her that if Yaris so much as crooked her finger, the archers should fill the strangers full of arrows. The elf-leader seemed to not be paying him any attention. She was instead staring at the fake elf-guard, murmuring "Could it be...?"

--------------------
Truth

Posts: 9559 | From: starlight | Registered: Oct 2005  |  IP: Logged



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