“So you finally dare to show your face,” Worrin snarled as I entered, I had hoped that his foul mood would have abated somewhat, but it appeared he still had some bile left.
“I only just discovered . . .”
“You only just discovered that you’re writing a newspaper article?” Worrin snapped, “That you’ve only just discovered that for the past few months that you’ve been sharing state secrets with the general public?”
“No,” I quickly added, “I forgot about that I’d left in the business with the shadow pearls in. At the time I thought there might only be a couple – that we’d contained them all, but now I realize that the matter is far more serious. I’m sorry for making your job that much more difficult Great Uncle Worrin.”
“You will of course end this business,” Worrin said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he returned to his papers.
“I won’t,” I found the courage to say.
“What?” he demanded, his eyes snapping back up at me, “You would dare to defy me? I will not have the family name sullied! Writing for a newspaper? That’s one step below playwright! You might as well take a job as a common labourer.”
“I’ve given permission for them to use excepts from my journal in an attempt to garner interest in Farshore.”
“I don’t care why you’ve done it,” Worrin said, “I want it ended.”
“I have a responsibility to Sasserine,” I said, “as a member of the Dawn Council, and I have to do whatever I can to see the fledgling colony of Farshore succeed.”
“Don’t you dare play that card with me Tristan,” Worrin snapped, “my life is responsibility. The Lidu name is my responsibility. This city is my responsibility! How dare you pretend that you’re doing this for anything other personal reasons.”
“We need people,” I snapped, “Sasserine needs to spread its influence if it’s to succeed against its enemies. Farshore could be a fantastic source of wealth for Sasserine but we need people to secure and work its lands. Now in a few weeks time a shipment from Farshore will arrive back in Sasserine and we intend to bolster our position with supplies and more settlers.”
“And soiling the Lidu name accomplishes this exactly how?” Uncle Worrin asked.
“I’m not good at speaking,” I said, “I don’t really inspire people, but I can research and I can write. I know newspapers aren’t exactly bastions of truth or literature but it’s the medium that I have that has the best chance of reaching the most people. I’d have preferred if someone else had done it but there is no one else only me!”
“That’s why you use the Dawn Council, you hire town criers, you put up notices, but you don’t publish your exploits. You’ll stop publishing them or I’ll . . .”
“Or you’ll what?” I asked, jumping on the pause, “you’ll disown me? I’m very grateful for the education but the only thing this name has brought me is trouble.”
“You ungrateful . . .”
“No!” I snapped before I could control myself, “I am grateful for the education, I just said I was, but I’m sick and tired of all the meddling! Everyone else at my graduation ceremony was scouted by the witchwardens and yet mysteriously I, top of my class and youngest graduate ever, was passed over! I wasn’t even asked what sort of job I wanted I was just shipped off to Blenak’s. I could have been a black dagger by now! Also I wasn’t immediately given a place on the Dawn council. I wonder who fought against me joining their? I’ve had to fight for everything I ever got! And nothing I do is good enough for you! Everything is about tearing me down, well fine you want to take my name take it! It’s the only thing left you can take from me now so just take it and be done with it!”
I wish my voice carried the same weight as my words. Tears crept into my voice and I was forced to turn away so my uncle couldn’t see the tears in my eyes. What a horrible time for silly emotions to sneak into things.
“I have always tried to protect you Tristan,” Worrin said.
“You’ve got a fine way of protecting,” I spat back at him. Unfortunately my eyes were still misbehaving and I kept my back to him as I fought to stem the seepage.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Worrin grumbled, “you’re too young. You have no idea what needs to be done to . . .”
“Protect the city?” I snapped as I turned back to face him, “maybe I don’t know, maybe . . . but I do know this: I would never have allowed the Scarlet Brotherhood into my city. They are our traditional enemies Uncle, they’re the enemies of free men everywhere! People say you’re weak and an ineffective leader and this is why! You want to point out my shortcomings but explain to me how it is that you could have let that happen?!”
I half expected Worrin to snap at that. I’d challenged his leadership but he simply sat back in his chair and tented his fingers.
“You really hate the Scarlet Brotherhood don’t you?”
“They are a blight on the Suloise people,” I said, “well the rest of us have strived to change our cruel and merciless ways they continue to give the rest of us a bad name. As long as they exist people will continue to fear and be suspicious of us. I want them destroyed. I hate slavers. Besides they’re the traditional enemies of Sasserine. Now that we’ve broken free of the Sea Princes we must continue to resist the Brotherhood’s influence.”
“And what would you have had me done?” he asked, he seemed more teacher then tyrant at the moment.
“Send them out,” I said, “banish them.”
“And if they came back in force?”
“Then we fight them off, as we always have, as we shall always continue to do.”
“I fear Tristan that they have greater power in this region, perhaps more then Sasserine can resist,” Worrin said, “they seem to be moving away from war though, they’re trying to advance their causes through subversion, and so should we encourage them back into military action? Are you so doubtful of Sasserine’s people that you fear that they’ll be swayed by the brotherhood’s sweet sounding lies?”
“No,” I said, “but I wouldn’t have had them in the city at all. They don’t deserve the foothold.”
“How much do you remember of that night?” Great Uncle Worrin asked, speaking of course of when the Sea Princes fell, “Now that you’re older I feel that you might be entitled to hear some of the details.”
“Not much,” I said, “I was only five or six. I think I was in your library . . .”
“You realize that it was the Scarlet Brotherhood that assassinated the last of the Sea Prince governors.”
“That’s just a precursor to what they’ll do here if we allow them this foot hold . . .”
“Undoubtedly,” great uncle Worrin said, “but if they strike here it will be the seven members of the dawn council that need to be removed. I have no doubts that I would be the first.”
“If they did that I would deal the Scarlet Brotherhood such a blow . . .” I felt the anger well up inside of me.
“And what good would that do?” Worrin asked, “the strength of Sasserine is now in the hands of it’s people rather then a king. You’re letting your anger . . . wait, how would you deal them such a blow?”
“Not all of the shadows pearls were destroyed,” I said, “if one were set off in their capital . . .”
Great uncle Worrin’s eyes went wide, “Tristan how could you think of such a thing?”
“I would do what needed to be done for Sasserine,” I said, “although the loss of innocent life would be unbearable to me, although such an action would haunt me till the day I died, I couldn’t allow their evil to go unchecked . . .”
“You would re-enact the rain of colourless fire?” Worrin asked, “bringing death to the young and innocent . . .”
“Not willingly,” I said, “but if they force my hand . . .”
“That is not a sufficient reason to slaughter thousands of people,” Worrin snapped, “war and violence is always the last resort. My death would mean nothing as long as Sasserine endured. That’s my legacy to the city. Seeing that you stop besmirching our name is my legacy to you and my family.”
“So what happened then?” I asked, “in the city I mean. I thought I heard a story that my father played a role in liberating the city.”
“Yes,” Worrin said with a sigh, “a far greater role then you realize. A far greater role then even I realized at the time. When the Brotherhood struck the Sea Princes to the north Sasserine remained isolated and although their grip here was tenuous, it was still firm enough, and the governor was a distant blood relative of one of the late rulers of the Sea Princes holdings. There was a thought that he might be able to consolidate power here and somehow return to power far to the north.
“He was naturally paranoid though,” Worrin said, “the Castle was practically sealed off, no one got in or out, and the man very quickly began alienating his supporters here while he waited for forces from the north. It was only a matter of time before things fell apart. But then he was killed like the rest of his kin. Thankfully we had been organizing things behind the scenes, we quickly organized the first meeting of the Dawn Council in those first few chaotic hours after word broke, and without a leader or anything worth fighting for the Castle and the remains of the garrison surrendered without a fight. We might have been able to reclaim the city without the Brotherhood’s assassin but the assassin did speed things along.”
“So what role did my father play?” I asked.
“The city was under lockdown,” Worrin said, “no one got in or out. The governor was terrified of assassins. Anyone caught leaving or entering the city was hung without a trial. However after months of this insane lockdown the city was growing restless. That fateful night the governor had a party to rally support amongst those still loyal to him. Your father was someone the governor thought he could trust and thus he was invited. Tristan your father was the one who smuggled in the Scarlet Brotherhood assassin.”
I felt queasy. My father had never been an important part of my life but learning that he was working with the scarlet brotherhood took the floor out from under me. I found myself almost falling into one of great uncle Worrin’s chairs.
“And now you know why your father was banished,” great uncle Worrin said after my head stopped swimming, “it was without my knowledge that he made contact with the brotherhood and it was certainly against my will that he assisted them.”
“After you knew . . . why did you let the brotherhood stay?”
“That is a rather complicated matter,” Worrin said, his voice almost sounded comforting, “I think we’ve discussed enough for today.”
“Then tell me how my father got the assassin inside,” I asked for some reason. Perhaps I was grasping at straws, searching to find some way redeem my father, perhaps I secretly hoped that he had been duped.
Worrin gave me an unreadable look. He seemed hesitant for some reason but finally his internal debate subsided and leaned forward.
“The first thing you must understand about our enemies the Scarlet Brotherhood is that they tend to plan well in advance. They like to create these things called sleeper agents. A brotherhood member moves into an area and blends in and becomes part of the city. They act perfectly normal and live perfectly ordinary lives until they’re activated. Sometimes they can lie in wait for decades. I don’t doubt there are some that have never been activated. But once activated they do whatever they’re trained and commanded to do. This assassin was already in Sasserine well in advance of the brotherhood’s attack on Sea Princes. She had gotten into a position of trust and I can honestly say that no one suspected her of being anything other then . . . all your father did was to walk her in through the front doors on his arm. Less then an hour later the governor was dead.”
“Wait . . .” I whispered, I suddenly felt dead inside, “are you saying that . . .”
“So you can imagine my quandary,” great uncle Worrin said, “I had a nephew that had been secretly dealing with the scarlet brotherhood and a scarlet brotherhood assassin all within my own house. I suppose I should have just banished the two of them, it would have been the sensible thing to do, but there were children in the mix, and one child in particular seemed quite brilliant, and that obviously complicated things. Do I send them all away? That would be like punishing the children for the sins of their parents. Do I take to the children and raise them away from their parents? Again that seemed particularly cruel. I also had to answer the question of what do I do with the scarlet brotherhood? They sent me envoys the moment the city opened up. Now that they had the claws into my family they weren’t just going to leave without taking something. Perhaps the price I’d pay was the deaths of my nephew and his family . . . it’s hard to imagine that they’d have let him live knowing that he hadn’t been bargaining with them in good faith.
“In the end I probably did the worst thing imaginable: I negotiated a treaty with the scarlet brotherhood and I split up my nephew’s family by sending the treacherous sw . . . fellow away. I figured that little girls need a mother more then a father, besides the lady had never lied to me, even after I confronted her afterwards, and an assassin with children is less dangerous then an assassin without. I probably made the wrong decision but heavy is the head that wears the crown. I’m sorry you had to hear this but it doesn’t change who you are. I’m hard on you sometimes because I want what’s best for you. Being a Lidu is about responsibility and sacrifice, I suspect that you’ll face more of that then I will ever know, but this doesn’t mean that I can let up on you. I would be a failure if I did.”
I felt the tears welling up and this time I made no effort to control them. I hated my father, I felt like I’d suddenly lost my mother, and now I despised my own weakness. I’d been a fool. I felt the emotion wash over me. I cried like a baby. Everything was going to be undone. How could I refuse great uncle Worrin’s demands now? I’d failed Lavinia and I’d failed myself.
“There, there Tristan,” Great uncle Worrin said, sounding uncomfortable, “this isn’t like you. I said it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change who you are. Please try to see this rationally . . .”
“You’re going to make me stop publishing in the paper!” I cried, “I’m a horrible failure. My fa-ther is a tra-der,” I tried to spit out those words with some venom but the crying was giving my hick-ups, “and my mo-ther is a-a mon-ster.”
“Tristan!” Great uncle Worrin snapped, “you stop crying this instant!”
Sadly that seemed to make me cry harder as now I felt upset about not being able to control my emotions. Hop-Toy tried to consol me as well but nothing seemed to work. Finally Worrin stepped out from behind his desk and awkwardly tried to comfort me. I pulled myself into his arms. I needed human comfort. I felt the emotion finally drain as Worrin hesitantly wrapped his arms around me.
“I expect better from you Tristan,” he whispered, “you’re going to be who the people look to. My sons might carry the name, but you’ll make empires tremble, they’ll sit as head of this household, but you will advice emperors. It will be you the people see. If it had been my granddaughter Gabriel or my grandson Zackary or even your own sister Zabrina that had been writing these articles I might even have been pleased. But you are my shining star, I want you to succeed, I need you to stop this business. I need you to have pride in your work. You should write theory, history, science, not cheap gutter gossip for a newspaper.”
“Have you read my work?” I asked, suddenly feeling a new emotion wash over me, “because it’s not gossip. It’s what happened. You hate newspapers so much then let’s just draft legislation to clean them up. Let’s hold them to a higher standard. People should be reading.”
“That’s neither here nor there,” Worrin said releasing me from his hold, “You’re a scion of the Dawn Council, you’re free to suggest any proposals you’d like but this matter doesn’t change my feelings about your name being in them. I want you out of that paper.”
“Furthermore,” I said, “the news of the world should be in paper. These town criers are great for the town centre but people outside of the city need to understand what’s happening in the world. Sasserine is a metropolitan city now. We have liberal laws and a diverse population. You want people to be able to resist tyrants and oppressors? Well knowledge is the key. These papers should be allowed inside the courtrooms and the open sessions of the Dawn Council to report what transpires.”
“Now you’re going to far,” Great uncle Worrin warned, “I’m not going to . . .”
“Buffy once said that some infections can be cleared up with the light of day,” I said, suddenly finding something to grasp hold of, “this Scarlet Brotherhood is an infection! I’m going to write up some legislation tonight. You can expect to see it during the next sitting of the dawn council. Also I expect you’ll see Lavinia Vanderboren’s name and perhaps even Mantheley Meravanchy’s name tacked onto it.”
“Tristan,” great uncle Worrin muttered, “I want you to promise me that . . .”
“Well I’m off to Farshore,” I said kissing him on the cheek, “I have lots to take care of and I’ve got the scarlet brotherhood to crush.”
Great Uncle Worrin looked furious but I smiled as I teleported away. He’d said it himself, who my parents were didn’t change who I was, and I was Tristan Lidu. The world might one day tremble at my name but in the mean time I would run the scarlet brotherhood out of Sasserine. Not by force. Violence wouldn’t accomplish anything, I could see that now, but I intended to beat them at their own game. Sasserine would soon be an inhospitable climate for them to fester.
They’d taken my parents. I’d make them pay.
Whoa...great stuff..
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This is great. Are you building all this background story by yourself or did the DM have a hand in it as well?
And you seem very knowledgeable about the Greyhawk settings, the various factions and how they interact. It makes the world around the actual story seem very alive.
Tristan is so powerful now, and all these people try to keep controlling her. I think they are fooling themselves if they think that's going to work. They should take the role of advisors, but they shouldn't try to control her.
Very nice background twist, and as far as I can tell as a proud owner of everything Greyhawkian since day one, a quite pretty accurate depiction of the Scarlet Brotherhood modus operandi.
Go on, we are still reading and supporting you!
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Tristan could thunp her Great uncle pretty easily but then she might not have a home to return to in Sasserine.
Yeah. Still, maybe it's just me, but if I were a level 6 aristocrat and my 18-year-old grand-niece was a level 14 Wizard, I'd make more serious efforts to be gentle with her. ;)
(especially since she's such a wonderful girl and acts with the best intentions)
I found Smarnil in the temple. He knelt at the shine of Wee Jas, apparently deep in prayer as he didn’t even seem to notice me as I approached. I’d avoided him for quite some time, and although I still wasn’t certain what I could say to him, I knew I needed to say something. I needed to apologize for avoiding him, I needed to apologize for any sacrilegious remarks I may have made, and I needed to take steps to ensure that there would be peace between us again. Perhaps I should promise him a temple?
“Hello father,” I said, “do you have a moment?”
Smarnil didn’t even turn. He didn’t seem startled. The man was perfectly calm.
“Greetings Tristan,” he said looking to the shrine of Wee Jas, “peace be with you.”
“And also with you,” I said formulaically, “I’ve come to talk about what happened the other day.”
With my promises to Annah I knew I couldn’t discuss the Green Lady. This would make this apology that much more difficult. I could only hope that Smarnil didn’t see me as some fiendish little trickster who was having fun at his expense.
“I’m sorry,” Smarnil said before I could properly apologize myself, “I did know you’d return. I’m sorry if I gave you cause to doubt.”
“No father,” I said, “I’m not . . . you have it wrong, I’m Tristan Lidu, nobody else, and I’m sorry if I made you feel I was someone else. I sometimes have trouble speaking you see, the words get twisted, and what came out of my mouth that day was just some jumbled up verbiage. I’m sorry if I offended you in any way. I’ve already earned a very strict penance from the High Magnus, but I would understand if you thought I deserved more.”
“You’ve been talking to Annah?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, “and I’ve promised never to speak about that thing which you once . . . that person that you once believed in. I said that I would never speak of her again.”
“That is probably very wise,” Smarnil said, “I believe I’d have advised you to do the same.”
“So we’re in agreement then,” I said, “everything can go back to the way it was.”
“I’m sorry,” Smarnil said, quickly standing and turning to face me, “but you are wrong.”
“Excuse me?” I said, wondering what I’d been wrong about.
“You said that you are not her,” Smarnil said, “that you’re nobody else, that those words didn’t mean anything, but I know better Tristan Lidu. You are not she, you are a different person, and yet you are the same. We’ve been searching the world for you and yet when you appeared right before my eyes I couldn’t even recognise you.”
“No father,” I pleaded, “you’re wrong. My mind plays ticks. I probably read those words somewhere; it popped out completely by accident. Please let’s forget the whole affair.”
“You look and sound so different,” he said, “and yet . . . and yet you are so much like her my heart aches. I doubted you. When I found no signs in Sasserine . . . I checked the registry you see, no Suloise children were born on that night, but I should have guessed that Annah or one of her acolytes was one step ahead of me. That is a very dangerous sign. Children born under it will be hunted by those that remember the old ways. The stars line up every century or so and only in very specific locations do they line up perfectly. I should have been in Sasserine sooner, we knew from our charts that the next instance would be somewhere over the Amedio jungle, but Sasserine wasn’t on anyone’s charts at the time. Last we heard the lady Sasserine had died fighting some great dragon. By the time I got there . . . forgive me, I would have guided you if I could have . . . it’s the least I could have done . . .”
“Smarnil what are you talking about?” I asked, but I felt something in the pit of my stomach, as if I knew something horrible had happened, “you’re talking like you knew her or something, like you’ve . . .”
“You don’t have her memories,” Smarnil whispered, “you don’t remember, but I remember you. I was, still am, a half breed, not a full Suloise, but you’ve always treated me like any other acolyte. You asked for my opinions and listened to my advise, even though you were noble born, even though a half breed like me wasn’t fit, in the eyes of many, to even walk in your shadow. It should have been me that took that assassin’s arrow. May Vecna be ground to dust. I know you don’t remember me but it is I Smarnil le couard, your most humble servant . . .”
With those words Smarnil removed his holy symbol and instantly his visage changed. His black hair became wispy white. His olive skin became pale and sunken. His body seemed to instantly drain of youth and vitality. He now looked hollow like all the life and joy had been sucked out of him. His robes hung off of his whisper thin body. He was skin and bone. I knew instantly that Smarnil was dead. The holy symbol had given him the illusion of life but now only his eyes remained the same. Those shockingly pale blue eyes.
“I shall advise you in whatever way I can,” he whispered, even his voice sounded different, now sounding of dust and bone, I heard the rasp of his lungs as he sucked in air to speak, “if you’ll have me.”
“Smarnil what have you done?” I managed to say, for some reason I felt revulsion not fear, “you’ve broken holy law. Your soul belongs to Wee Jas!”
“It still does,” he whispered in the old tongue, “but because I’m not a pure blood Wee Jas won’t mind if I animate these bones and keep it a while longer. I must tend her most holy of living servants.”
“All this time?” I asked, suddenly realizing that I was speaking in the old tongue as well, “you’ve waited all this time for someone, something that might never come?”
“There was much to do,” Smarnil whispered, “we had a flock to take care of, Vecna’s forces were still in the area, and then after Kas and Vecna clashed there was the rebuilding. We needed to protect your tomb, grave robbers from all over, but mainly Greyhawk, began picking over the cairns in the area. We kept watching for signs of the Age of Worms, you said that you wouldn’t return until after the Age of Worms, and there were many false signs. We kept the sect alive as we promised you, knowing your prophecy that the heroes would rise from the shadows of your tomb. Then, a few years ago, things seemed to accelerate, you appeared in a dream and suddenly our numbers swelled. We had over forty when Kyuss returned and it was actually two of our flock who battled the worm that walks. Lyssa helped and even traveled with wizard priest Virgil, I fear she’s his servant now, and Amariss mentored the cleric Blane. When they hear that . . .”
“No,” I found myself saying, “They mustn’t be told. They have their own lives now and can’t be asked to save the world again. I never asked for you to wait for me. Those words were meant to comfort you. It was a mistake for me to tell you. I must handle this on my own.”
I felt dizzy. For a moment I felt as though I might collapse.
“You are correct,” Smarnil whispered, “they’re needed in the north, Alhaster and the bandit kingdoms, Iuz, they need to spread law and order there. But tell me, this enemy, this prince of demons, have you had any visions? Any dreams?”
“No,” I said with a voice that didn’t feel like my own, “not about him, but I’ve had glimmers of something else. This will be my last incarnation. The fragments are forming into one. But Smarnil, how is it that I live again so soon? The Age of Worms only just averted.”
“You’ve never been good at interpreting your own visions,” he said with a hissing sound that might have been a laugh, “you didn’t say you’d be born after the Age of Worms, you said that you’d appear. You earned the Spire of Sasserine almost to the day that the unlife vortex appeared over Alhaster. It was months after the Wormfall Festival that we first met. I’ve had quite a long time to think about your prophecies and contemplate the wording.
“When I discovered Sasserine quite suddenly a few years back I thought it must be a sign. ‘Look for a city to the south the bears the name of one of her faithful,’ you’d said, but for the longest time all we had was Hardby. We explored looking for other possibilities. And then, quite suddenly, Amariss stumbled across a name none of us had heard for centuries: Sasserine. She’d left our sect to build a great spire in the south but years later word came back that she had died. Her city appeared on maps for a time but then it just disappeared. Reclaimed by the jungle we’d assumed.
“When it reappeared quite suddenly I was sent immediately. I needed to blend in . . . become a trusted member of the faith. For love of you I was forced to renounce you. I hoped that you could forgive the lies I needed to tell, I hoped that the sacrifices I’d already made would be enough, but I needed to become a member of the flock again. Years passed before I was able to look over the birth records. I knew the stars had been right, and with the age of worms apparently in full swing I knew there was a strong possibility Wee Jas would see fit to call upon you again. But when I found nothing I have to admit I felt despair. Waiting is easy when you have goals in mind but when the age of worms had come and gone . . . knowing that it would be a full one hundred and three years before the stars would line up again, and that would be in the north, I stopped looking, thinking that it would be a long time before I saw you again.”
“Who did this,” I asked, grabbing hold of Smarnil’s jaw, “who’s idea?”
“When you died we all wanted revenge,” Smarnil whispered, “those that had been with you during those torturous last few days . . . the ones that saw that poison eat you from the inside out, well we wanted revenge especially. Amariss tried to keep us together but she had no hold over the Flan. Lyssa and Hetta half-heartedly tried to calm everyone but I suspect that they wanted revenge as well. Our own people had seen so much death and destruction; this final blow almost took the life out of them. There were many that wanted to die with you . . . but Amariss read your last prophecies to them . . . It was your lover that came on the idea, but I suspect that the process was revealed to her by Amariss. We knew it was a sin to animate the pure bloods, to rob that which belongs to Wee Jas, but Amariss and I were half-breeds. Lyssa and Morrik demanded the right to join us . . . we . . . forgive us Mab . . .”
The room was spinning. I remembered people I shouldn’t have. I saw faces of people who should have been dust. And that name. My mothers name. But it had once been mine.
“It is not what I wanted for you Smarnil,” I felt myself say, I felt tears in my eyes, “you suffered in my care, I wanted you to feel peace is the Lady’s embrace. She would have crafted you a beautiful Suloise body . . .”
“Mab,” Smarnil asked suddenly looking into my eyes, “are you really there? Do you remember?”
For a brief moment I felt I did remember everything. The prophecies. The doubts. The mountains. The burning. Pain. Death. Suffering. But there was also joy, happiness, love. Tears washed away with kisses. I had been a saviour of my people. Wee Jas’ will had been done. And that life was done. The room suddenly became black.
I woke to find Smarnil leaning over me.
“Tristan,” he said, running his hands through my hair, “you fainted. Are you alright? Have you been getting enough to eat?”
The priest looked very much alive. He breathed, his nostrils flared, his hands felt warm, his voice sounded rich and inviting. His eyes blinked like a living creature’s should. Had I dreamt the whole thing?
“I think I might have skipped breakfast and lunch,” I whispered, I felt tired, mentally and physically, “I think I’ll be alright.”
I tried to sit up but the room suddenly began spinning again. I fell back and Smarnil caught me.
“I think you’d better lie down for a bit longer,” he said, “I’ll have Lavinia send someone over to get you back home.”
I fought to remember something concrete about the dream that could prove to me that it had been real. That it had happened. But nothing came to mind.
Then I saw Smarnil’s holy symbol poking out from his robes.
“That’s a beautiful holy symbol,” I whispered, “is it old?”
I held out my hand, feebly trying to grasp at it, but Smarnil quickly tucked it away.
“Yes,” he said, “quite old, and very dear to me. Someday I trust I’ll have the opportunity to tell you exactly how dear, but for now I want you to rest. I’m going to get someone to carry you back to Lavinia’s place. You’re spreading yourself too thin Tristan. People will look to you. You’re of the old blood. Noble born. You need to act according to your station. You need to learn to share responsibility, to let others step up, the Goddess needs you strong and healthy for what is to come.”
I nodded and closed my eyes. When I woke I was in Lavinia's bed.
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Ah yes, I suspected that those references were related to a specific AoW campaign. :)
I played it as a player for the first 4 adventures, and none the PC's were close to Wee Jas, so I don't really know what the cult there is all about... But I do remember there were some mysterious cultists of Wee Jas hanging around the region.
I've been gone for almost a year. Glad to see the story is continuing. Is anyone still accumulating a "digest." I know something was in the works back around page 12 or so...?
I've been gone for almost a year. Glad to see the story is continuing. Is anyone still accumulating a "digest." I know something was in the works back around page 12 or so...?
Well, I do. A 143+ pages Word document, to be PDFed as soon as the story is concluded. But I won't share it unless Guy is OK with that. Matter of courtesy...
I've been gone for almost a year. Glad to see the story is continuing. Is anyone still accumulating a "digest." I know something was in the works back around page 12 or so...?Well, I do. A 143+ pages Word document, to be PDFed as soon as the story is concluded. But I won't share it unless Guy is OK with that. Matter of courtesy...
WOW! That would be awesome! And, Guy, you better check with that Lidu chick, too. I don't think I'd like her when she's angry.
Thanks, so much, Guy. François, I don't know how else to you could send it to me besides email. Would that work? RFlatstone (at) yahoo dot com. I really appreciate it!
Thanks, so much, Guy. François, I don't know how else to you could send it to me besides email. Would that work? RFlatstone (at) yahoo dot com. I really appreciate it!
Done.
Got it!! Thanks so much!
<bump> Just to give newcomers a chance to spot this thread...
Well, I keep forgetting to ask Guy if he has reached the point where his group went on (seeminglt permanent) hiatus, that the fight with the "BBEG at the end of CoGI", whatever this Big Bad Evil Guy is...
Well, I keep forgetting to ask Guy if he has reached the point where his group went on (seeminglt permanent) hiatus, that the fight with the "BBEG at the end of CoGI", whatever this Big Bad Evil Guy is...You mean Avner?
Don't know. But Avner would qualify as "Big Bad Spoiled Brat" (BBSB), so the acronym is wrong. :)
Lavinia forbade me from getting out of bed that morning. Personally I find it amusing when she’s so protective. However I don’t think I’ll press my luck with her too much . . .
Breakfast in bed was a nice treat. I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure before. Lavinia also saw that I had a bed desk, or whatever she called, it was a nice flat surface that I could write on in bed. I think she knew I’d only be bullied so far. I needed to get my work done and Lavinia knew me well enough to know I wasn’t going to put it off. I was happy for this compromise. I would have been more comfortable at my desk but I happily worked away at my diaries and legislation at the little desk whilst propped up on pillows. Lavinia was constantly in the room, I’ll not say she was patrolling, but I am sure that if I made a move to rise she would quickly spring into action. Resigned to my fate I quickly lost myself in my work.
“Tristan,” Lavinia said after a while, I glanced up at her when no follow up was forthcoming and saw that she wasn’t looking to me but rather at her wash basin. It took me but a moment to realize that my familiar sat semi submerged in the middle of the basin. She was staring at him and Hop-Toy, in turn, was staring up at her! I wasn’t sure how to react, my first instinct was to hide my familiar away, he was a toad and most women find such creatures repulsive.
Then part of me thought why am I embarrassed? Hop-Toy has been a loyal companion lo these last eight years. Should I abandon my friend and companion because he made my lover uncomfortable? If she truly loved me she would accept him as being a part of my life. It had certainly been no secret before we became so close that he was my familiar.
Then yet another part was screaming something about a breach in etiquette. This was Lavinia’s room and Hop-Toy and I were guests. Hop-Toy was in Tristan’s personal space and we should have asked where he could sleep before taking over such an essential location.
Then, before I could react or say anything, Lavinia reached into the basin and picked Hop-Toy up.
“I’ve always wondered why you choose a toad as your familiar,” she said, gently holding Hop-Toy up so she could look at him, “I mean you get a choice don’t you? Why not a cat or a raven? Maybe an owl? I think that’s what I would have chosen.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Then it occurred to me I hadn’t gone to Lavinia’s room, someone had carried me, and I hadn’t put Hop-toy in the wash basin, although that was where I usually kept him. Furthermore I distinctly remember Lavinia using that wash basin that morning already. I wondered why I was so hypersensitive.
“I’m not sure why I picked a toad,” I said, “perhaps you could say he picked me? But there were lots of beautiful animals and everyone looked over the cats and birds, and there was this sad little sack sitting alone in his cage, but no one even glanced at him. I had been eying a raven but I figured that I should look at all the creatures just to be scientific. I wasn’t impressed with that little guy. Every other creature seemed better suited to my needs, except the snakes, I had no use for the snakes, but that was just as well anyways because the boys loved anything slimy or scary like that. So anyways, after looking over all the creatures I decided on a hawk, in fact I had a fine specimen in mind, but then as I was passing the table I saw that sad little toad again. I knew no one was going to choose him, and I looked down into his sad little eyes knowing he was neglected and forgotten, a bit like me in that school, and for some reason I picked him rather then that beautiful hawk. All in all I can’t say I’m terribly disappointed, but I often wonder how much different life would have been with a hawk for a familiar.”
That of course was a bit of a fib, I’d never selected a hawk, nor had I looked at the other familiars, I’d spied poor old Hop-Toy by himself and was pretty much sold. He was a lot like me, small, quiet and weird, and from the moment I heard his rich deep voice inside my head I knew I’d made the right decision. Still, I didn’t want Lavinia to think I was strange or anything.
Hop-Toy knew the lie for what it was but he chose not to call me on it. Lavinia had discovered that he liked having the side of his head rubbed and he was completely under her spell.
“He does sort of suit you though,” Lavinia said, clearly bemused by his antics, “but he is the strangest looking toad I’ve ever seen. I thought he was smaller before and he looked ordinary. Why’d he change?”
“Oh,” I said with a slight laugh, “that’s because . . .”
The words froze in my mouth. Lavinia couldn’t know the real reason! That Hop-Toy and I were slowly being shaped by the far realm, especially not after what became of her brother! I tried to think up a lie or a likely solution but in my moment of panic my mind was suddenly empty. Thankfully Lavinia herself supplied the solution:
“Can’t explain it so that I can understand it?” Lavinia asked raising an eyebrow.
“No it’s not that,” I quickly explained, “but magic has all sorts of secrets. You know, telling you something, that’s totally innocuous to you, might be a key to someone else’s dark riddle. It’s hard to say sometimes that can be used for good or evil.”
“You think I’d share your secrets,” she said, there was something in that tone that made me cringe.
“No,” I quickly said, “but magic is all about discipline and control as well and knowledge is a savage beast. We train our minds to hold the deepest darkest truths of the universe. There are things in my head that that could destroy someone’s untrained mind. Some knowledge can be extremely caustic you see. So basically the thing I want to tell you is something somewhere between those two realms. I’m trying to decide what I can say. You know as mages go I’m quite powerful so I’m at the point where I have to be particularly careful what I say and how I say it.”
“Brag, brag,” she said with a smile, but the good natured rib was in a sensitive area, and I suddenly felt the need to defend my remarks.
“It’s true,” I said, “few ever make it to this level and no one that I know of has made it this far this young. I’m not bragging, it’s a statement of fact, and while I appreciate the need to stay modest, I can’t allow myself for a moment . . .”
“Tristan it was a joke,” Lavina said.
“I Know,” I said, “but there are things that I can’t joke or brag about . . .”
“I don’t think I’ve ever known you to brag,” Lavinia said, trying to reassure me, “that’s why I thought I could joke about it. It’s true though? The things you said? That you know things that could destroy someone’s mind?”
“Not just anyone’s mind,” I said before I could stop myself, “but there’s no choice in the matter, there are things you simply cannot un-see, things that you simply can’t un-know . . . thing affect you in different ways, but it’s no difference then learning to dance or how to fight. Your body changes after a while, you gain posture, your body builds calluses, and you can’t really hide the fact after a while.”
“That sounds dangerous . . .”
“Everything is dangerous,” I said, “waking up in the morning is dangerous, sleep is dangerous, life is full of danger and the only thing you can do is minimize the risk because you certainly can’t stop living. I don’t mean to sound condensing but I’ve had this exact same argument with Kale ad nauseam, and while I fully realize that you are not Kale I can’t stand to have this argument with you . . .”
Lavinia just stared at me as the words tumbled out and even as I was saying them I wanted to put them back into my mouth and swallow whole but something kept them forcing them out.
“I don’t recall accusing you of anything Tristan or even making demands of you,” Lavinia said, “and while you might not care for arguments doubting your competence or capability I don’t care for being dragged into an argument I didn’t even start. I wanted to know about your familiar because I’m interested in you, not because I wanted to fight with you about something, if you want to fight . . .”
“Come back to Sasserine with me,” I suddenly said.
“What?” Lavinia said, caught off guard by my sudden change in direction.
“I need to work in the tower and you could take care of some personal business I’m sure.”
“You are spending the day in bed,” Lavinia said, “you collapsed yesterday if you’ll remember?”
“I know that’s what ‘we’ said I’d do today but I think we both knew, even as we were making those plans that it wasn’t likely to happen,” I said trying to sound conciliatory, “I’m far too busy this week to be bed ridden all day, but I will make you this promise: once this week is over I’ll spend an entire day in bed if you want. But today I need to get back to Sasserine to finish my research and I was thinking that tonight, when we’re both done our work, we might go to the theatre. I’ve only been a couple of times but before my companionship was just awful. I’d like to go back and see something with someone I wanted to be with.”
“Tristan,” Lavinia said, with no real conviction to her voice, “you’re in no shape to travel.”
“I’m in perfect health,” I said, “if you don’t believe me have Buffy come up here and give me the once over, one fainting spell doesn’t equate to a full day of bed rest. Yesterday I skipped breakfast, put in a full day of research and was subjected to a fair amount of stress. I promise you that I’ll be talking it much easier today. Besides you don’t really want to spend the day in town do you? Not when Sasserine is practically right outside the door.”
“If Buffy thinks you’re healthy then maybe we’ll talk, but I’m not letting you take any chances, not while you’re in my care, is that understood?”
“Yes ma’m,” I said as I quickly returned to my work. I doubted Lavinia wanted to stick around all day watching over me, and coming with me to Sasserine was as good an excuse as any to avoid that drudgery, but I also knew that she was equally as stubborn as I and would do everything in her power to see that I stayed in bed to recover if Buffy made the erroneous conclusion that I was still ill.
Lavinia quickly replaced Hop-Toy back into the wash basin and went off in search of our party priest.
‘Why do you feel the need to lie to her?’ Hop-Toy eventually asked.
“You wouldn’t understand,” I said.
‘Obviously,’ Hop-Toy asked peering out from over his dish, “which is why I ask. You’re female is smart and strong and very capable of dealing with you. Why lie and establish a basis of mistrust? If she comes to know the truth it’s better to have it out now then later.’
“After that bad business with her brother,” I said in a low tone, “I promised her that I’d never change. That was an implicit promise not to allow myself to fall under the influence of outside forces like her brother. Only when I made that promise we were already too far down that path to turn back. She fell in love with me since then and if I reveal to her now that every moment after that promise was build on a bed of lies how could she ever forgive me?”
‘You assume what she meant,’ Hop-Toy said, ‘but obviously we can’t take her literal meaning because no one could keep such a promise. But the lady isn’t familiar with the planes or outsider influence. She did know her brother had become a monster but he was not just a demonic. He had changed from the person she once knew into someone that would kill and hurt those around him. I suspect that this is what she meant. As long as you stay a true friend and confidant then I don’t think she’ll care what you look like.’
“She called him a demon,” I said.
‘Perhaps if she had called him a devil you’d understand what I mean,’ Hop-Toy croaked, ‘she called him a monster as well you will recall. All are synonyms and mean the same to the layman. It was you that easily deduced that he had made a pact with a demon. Even now you’re making the assumption that she means outsider influence when she speaks about change. It is the work of a guilty mind.’
“You’re crazy,” I said.
“Well you’re the one talking to him,” someone beside me said.
I almost jumped out of my skin. I was lucky that my ink well wasn’t on my bed desk at the time otherwise I suspect I would have spilled ink all over Lavinia’s bed as well as the walls. As is, I nearly launched the desk across the room and spilled loose papers everywhere.
The culprit was Kiki and the little imp laughed till her sides ached . . . I was far less amused. Lavinia would be returning with Buffy soon and if I couldn’t bring my heart rate back under control I’d need to commit the first act of defiance in our relationship. Then there was the matter of her coming into Lavinia’s bedroom without knocking. It was an invasion of privacy and a breach of decorum. Kiki and I had shared a room often during our adventures and so her barging into our room wasn’t an issue but now that I was staying in Lavinia’s quarters things were different. I fully intended to set her straight but somehow it slipped my mind.
“So,” Kiki said before I could scold her, “you and Lavinia . . .”
“What do you mean,” I gasped, I wasn’t ashamed of our new relationship but on the other hand I really didn’t want it common knowledge yet, “I mean, what about us?”
Clearly my quick recover had no effect as the shoal Halfling simply rolled her eyes.
“Come on,” Kiki said, “I’m not dense, you and her have always been creeping around together, having secret meetings and things, but now you’ve moved into her room and are sleeping in her bed.”
“There are all kinds of logical explanations for this,” I said, desperately trying to think of some.
“So here’s what I want to know,” she said ignoring my stalling attempt, “how does it work? Like I know about how a man and a woman does it but I didn’t even know that sort of thing was possible with two women. Don’t the men have the essential parts? I need to know the mechanics Tristan. How does it work?”
If I was worried about my heart rate before I wasn’t now. All the blood in my body had gone to my head and cheeks.
“I’m sure I don’t know . . .”
“Come on,” Kiki said, “that’s not what it sounded like the other night. Normally it’s girl on bottom man on top, but do you like both get on your sides? Do you need any special tools or anything?”
“Get out!” I cried, pulling the blankets over my head to hide, what I was sure was, my beet red face. “I’m not talking to you anymore!”
“Fine,” Kiki said as she turned to walk out of the room, “I guess I’ll just have to wait till you write about it in your journal.”
“You don’t read abyssal,” I said as I pulled back the blankets to glare at her.
“Yet!” Kiki laughed as she darted out of the room, “The key word there is yet!”
“Good luck finding someone to teach you!” I hollered, tossing a pillow after her. I couldn’t tell if it was genuine curiosity or what she thought it was good natured teasing, either way it was still a highly inappropriate thing to ask!
Lavinia eventually returned with Buffy in tow. The priestess checked my pulse, listened to my lungs, and felt my neck and forehead. She seemed happy with what she found and after a few basic questions gave me a clean bill of health. Lavinia eyed me suspiciously, as if I had somehow used my magic to fool the priestess, but then thought the better of it and quickly changed into something appropriate for a day in Sasserine. I got the feeling that she was anxious for the brief respite from mayoral duties.
We arrived in Sasserine within moments. Despite me better judgement I brought Kiki along. She said something about wanting to visit her family and despite never having mentioned family before I saw no reason to doubt her. Thankfully she didn’t ask any more embarrassing questions. She had the good sense not to say anything crude in Lavinia’s presence. Buffy, Kiki, Lavinia, and I all had business in separate parts of the city and so after we made our evening plans we quickly dispersed to look after our plans.
I was eager to return to my research but first I needed to look into opera tickets. I’d been a few times before but as a guest. Now I wanted to attend as a host. I quickly scanned the opera house to find some place to buy tickets.
It was inside the main doors where I discovered the ticket counter but it was closed and the sign said that it wouldn’t be open till noon. I had high hopes that I’d be in the midst of my sub indexing by then and had no intentions of breaking from my research to stand in line. Churtle had even packed me a box lunch so I didn’t need worry about stopping for that. Something told me that if I didn’t take care of this while it was fresh in my mind it might get put off completely. I suddenly had this scenario in my mind of Lavinia and I arriving late to discover the show had been sold out! Fortunately I spied action in the offices behind the ticket counter:
“Excuse me,” I said to an important looking fellow, “when does this counter open?”
I pointed at the sign which explicitly stated when it would open. The gentleman opened his mouth, as if to offer some snide remark, but then he paused to look me over: He must have seen my great ruby ring of wizardry, my Lidu signet ring, the magical golden band on my left hand, the woven metal bracers on my arms, the silver bejewelled headband, the heavily adorned rod of metamagic sitting in the crook of my arm, my belt and boots both made of rare and mystical leather, the silver knife tucked into my belt, my well woven cloak, my simple “work” dress cut from thick expensive grey silk which had been embroidered with silver and golden red thread, and then he may have noticed that I floated a good six inches off of the floor.
“I could open it now,” he finally said, licking his lips, “what showing are you interested in?”
“The evening performance,” I said carefully choosing the words, “two tickets.”
“Ah yes, ‘The Witch of Perrenland’, a tale of sorcery and demons. It’s very popular. I expect we’ll need to extend its run. Some have seen it four or five times now and we’ve gotten requests from as far away as Greyhawk. We have first balcony seating still available as well as bowl seats . . .”
“Box seats?” I asked.
“I’m sorry madam but unless one of our patrons has tragically passed on and left you box seats in their will, or you’ve somehow become married to someone who owns box seats, it’s impossible. We sold out all of our box seats three years in advance. In fact there’s a three year waiting list just to get into the lottery for a chance to win the right to buy season tickets . . .”
“Every time I’ve been I’ve had box seats,” I said.
“Well I’m afraid it’s impossible this time, unless you attend as a guest, there’s just no way . . .”
“Is Nylaria around?” I asked as a thought suddenly hit me, the manager had seats available and often hosted the city’s elite, “I would speak with her.”
“You know Mistress Absalee?” the man asked.
“I know of her,” I said trying to keep my words as simple as possible, “and I suspect she will know of me as well.”
“Very well,” he said, “whom shall I say is calling?”
“Tristan Lidu,” I said, “tell her that Lavinia Vanderboren and I will only be in Sasserine for the day. We will be returning to Farshore tonight or early tomorrow morning.”
He nodded, but he gave me a strange look as if to say ‘why do those that name sound familiar?’, or perhaps it was the pacing of my words that confused him, bet either way he quickly retreated into the back offices. Behind the closed doors I could hear murmuring of several voices including a definite female voice. After a few moments the doors swung open.
“Tristan, darling,” the large woman said, “how is it that we’ve gone this long without meeting?”
Nylaria Absalee was amazingly quick and graceful for someone her size and she quickly glided around the counter and swooped in on me and despite the fact that I was levitating half a foot above the ground she was easily able to kiss me on both cheeks.
“I knew your grandfather darling,” she said, draping a massive arm around my shoulders, “He was a big supporter of the arts. Why it was in this very hall where he met your grandmother. Such a shame what happened to them. They used to drag your father along to shows when he was about your age. You never knew them I wager. All that business was a lifetime ago. Back when I was on stage. Why you must just be in your twenties now . . .”
“I’m eighteen,” I said.
“My goodness, darling you’re still a baby!” she said with a laugh, “How did you ever captain a ship at such a young age? I’ve been reading your stories darling; everyone is, you might have a future as a writer. Have you ever considered writing opera?”
“I wouldn’t know the first thing about . . .”
“Oh heavens,” she laughed, “you wouldn’t write the music, nobody does that these days. It’s just not fashionable, no we get a few ghost writers to tidy up the script and compose the music and lyrics, and you sign your name to it and suddenly we have ‘The Sea Wyvern’s Flight’ or ‘Towards the Darkness’ or better yet, I’ll find some famous composer and have them sign their name to it. Then we add inspired by the diaries of Tristan Lidu to the posters and no one goes in sceptical about your musical talents. I’d pay you a share of the profits . . .”
“A kind offer,” I tried to say when the woman slowed, “but . . .”
“As I said simply everyone is reading this diary darling,” she continued, “hearing that you fought off those Crimson Fleet dogs over in that colony certainly got everyone here excited. We simply love to hear of them getting trounced. But now everyone is eagerly waiting for those accounts to be published in your diaries. Tell me though, one girl to another, does this tale have a romantic lead? Someone from the merchant district perhaps?”
I almost choked till it occurred to me she was talking about Kale.
“No, nothing of that sort,” I quickly added.
“Oh well,” she said with a sigh, “unrequited love makes for much better theatre. People love a tragedy. Which reminds me, you said that Lavinia Vanderboren would be accompanying you tonight? Poor dear, I knew her parents as well. It’s wonderful to see her doing so well in light of everything that’s happened, I’m sure she’s quite lucky to have a friend such as yourself.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“So you were hoping to catch tonight’s show?”
“Yes . . .”
“The Witch of Perrenland,” she said, “very popular tale with the ladies. It’s loosely based on events up north in Perrenland. I think you’ll enjoy it. Also, darling, I’d be honoured if you and the young Miss Vanderboren would be my guests tonight. I’ll tell the door man to be expecting you. I’ve already invited other guests, and I’d hate to overcrowd, but you’re only hear for the one night, and so many don’t show you know darling. Others arrive fashionably late, it’s a nightmare darling, but we’ll find room for everyone.
“Now if you’ll excuse me darling I have business to attend too, we’re reading through a new play from Cauldron, but I can’t give you any spoilers. Okay just one: there’s a dragon in it. I’m not sure how we’re going to stage it yet but the writing is simply fantastic. “
. . .
I met Lavinia at her place. Her home was still more or less boarded up but Lavinia had borrowed workers from the estates of family friends and had taken down the planks from the front rooms at least. Much of the furniture had been left behind but anything of value had been shifted to her vault under the castle. Lavinia had kept a few dresses in her house though, gowns that were far too fancy to wear on the Isle of Dread, but costumes well suited for attending plays. I marvelled at the blue silk number she chose. Simple, understated, and Lavinia was able to pull it off flawlessly. I in turn wore my Lidu gown that I had traded with the gaunt man for. Despite the wealth and power my trappings carried I felt Lavinia looked more the part of a noble.
She had arranged for a carriage. We had a light supper (so as to not get drowsy before the play was done) and despite my knowledge of how these things worked, arrived early. I was simply unable to idle away the time and Lavinia, sensing my discomfort, decided that we could break protocol and spend time looking through the great opera house.
When we arrived we discovered the staff in a panic. It seems that mistress Absalee had more guests then seats in her private box, and worse still, most had confirmed their invitations. We were the first to arrive but it seemed likely that many more would be arriving and extra seats were being sought. We excused ourselves from the chaos and walked the opera house. We admired the artwork the lobbies and smoking rooms, marvelled at the great crystal chandelier, and shared a private moment behind one of the rich velvet curtains. Despite the excitement and thrill of attending the opera with the woman I loved I was beginning to think that we might have more fun together away from prying eyes. I briefly considered retiring before the opera even began but thankfully fate had other ideas.
General seating had already taken place and the opening aria had just started when we returned to the main hall, the ushers were still trying to juggle the seating, when practically ran into Anwyn Arabani. She was every bit as beautiful as I remember, at first she seemed annoyed at the intrusion, but then she caught sight of Lavinia:
“Lavinia Vanderboren?” She asked, “I haven’t seen you since . . . well since that unpleasantness with your family. Come with me, we should talk . . .”
It turns out that Anwyn and Lavinia knew each other, her niece and Lavinia had gone to the same finishing school and Mistress Arabani and the Vanderborens had been more than just acquaintances. I of course tried to follow the conversation but Anwyn had Lavinia by the arm and spoke in hushed tones. Plus Anwyn had been the subject of an early childhood crush and I found myself rather tongue tied. I simply couldn’t insert myself into the conversation. It was just as well, with the words twisted so much in my mouth as of late I wouldn’t dare speak with such a fetching stranger out of fear of offending her. I did catch snippets of their conversation:
She had been made aware of seating fiasco, and well she had initially intended to do nothing (the Mistress of the opera house having gotten on the half drow’s bad side at some point) she hadn’t known then that Lavinia and I were among the overbooked. She graciously invited us to her box which was practically uninhabited for the evening. Anwyn explained that while she never misses a show she detested watching alone and it seemed that one of her suitors had just cancelled on her, or perhaps it was the other way around? I struggled to hear. I did understand from what I’d overheard that she had intended to stay long enough to be seen (perhaps to show her scorn or disgust) and then leave. We were more than happy to accept her invitation.
There was seating for six in the small booth. The view wasn’t particularly the best, but the sound was incredible, we were almost above the pit! You couldn’t see much of the stage or the set designs but the singers were just below us and we could hear every note perfectly. In the darkness I found Lavinia’s hand and held it tight.
. . .
It was close to the witching hour when she finally returned. I should have been in Farshore already, Lavinia would worry, but I needed to do this. I needed to confront this woman and I needed to do it on my own terms. If I waited to think things through I might never find the courage to do it.
“Hello mother,” I said as she stepped into the room.
“Hello Tristan,” she said without turning. I was invisible if she didn’t look the effect of not seeing me would be ruined. “Your great uncle won’t like people sneaking into the house even if you are family.”
“I know what you are,” I said trying to illicit some emotion from her, “I know what you did.”
“Do you now?” she asked without looking, “and what would this be then? I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.”
I had a sudden fear of other crimes this woman might have committed. Suddenly just being a member of the Scarlet Brotherhood didn’t seem so horrible. Had she killed others here? Freeing us from the Sea Princes had been murder but it had been justified murder. If she was capable of treason and murder what else could she be capable of?
“I know you’re a member of the Scarlet Brotherhood,” I finally said, “I know you’re treasonous to the people of Sasserine . . .”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about Tristan,” mother said, “you’ve heard something you didn’t like and now you’re intent on jumping to conclusions.”
“Then you’re not a member of the scarlet brotherhood?” I asked.
“Oh no,” Mother said, turning to face me, or to at least stare at where my voice was coming from, “I am a brotherhood assassin, of the highest rank, and given the order I would kill anyone my masters asked me too.”
“How could you . . .” I asked, “I loved you, but you’ve betrayed . . .”
“Who have I betrayed?” Mother said a strange edge in her voice, “this city was founded by the pure blooded Suloise, it is a city that was once ruled by the noble blood, Lady Sasserine gave her life for her people, and yet somehow mongrels and half breeds have been allowed to take over our city. This city should have been our birthright but your ancestors gave it all away.”
“You’re racist monster. You and your kind exemplify everything I despise about my blood. I’ve studied history mother, we invited the rain of colourless fire through our cruelty and our hubris, not a single nation or people felt sorry for us, and the brotherhood would invite such destruction again!”
“Was that an attempt to make me mad?” she asked, “to make me lose my temper? My emotions run much deeper than that my dear. Doing what I was trained to do requires absolute calm and detachment. Perhaps you thought you could strike me down once I attacked you but I’m afraid that just won’t work. If you’ve come to kill your mother then you’ll have to do it in cold blood.”
“What?” I whispered, I wasn’t sure what I’d hoped to gain through this confrontation but my mother’s death wasn’t on that list, “I don’t want to kill you, I want answers . . .”
“You sneak into the house invisibly and wait till I’m alone to confront me? What answers did you think I was going to give?”
“Why not tell me why you joined the brotherhood?”
“Ah,” she said with a now cruel seeming smile on her lips, “that wasn’t something I chose. And unlike your carefree youth mine was spent preparing for a single task, knowing that if I failed death would have been the best I could hope for.”
“Why not quit then,” I said, “we could purge the brotherhood from the city.”
“And why would I switch allegiances so quickly?” she asked.
“Because I’m your daughter . . .”
“Yes,” mother said, “and that means you should obey me not the other way around.”
“Because I love . . .”
“Let me tell you a little something about love. Your father isn’t the only one who knows how to consult oracles, I found my own soothsayer when I was given to your father. I wanted to know what would happen to me, if my mission would succeed, but the idiot only talked about you, your life, how my daughter would shake the world. If she lived. He felt the need to add that little tidbit. As an assassin I know hundreds of ways to end life, thousands of little babies are still born every year, how easy it would have been to end that little kicking thing inside me. A sip of white lotus milk for example and you wouldn’t have been born. I had a job to do and having you squirming around inside me would have made that impossible but against my better judgment I let you grow inside me. A pregnant woman is very inconspicuous I reasoned.
“Then when you were out . . . well the soothsayer also said you’d break my heart. How could I allow such a pathetic little thing to hurt me? Physical pain I’ve endured. But emotional pain? I’ve seen it make assassins go bad. Suddenly you start caring about your mark. That’s the kind of weakness the brotherhood can’t stand. I’ve steeled myself over the years, never shown an ounce of pain or fear, and never allowed weakness into my heart and you now suddenly you would have destroyed all that? I stood over you with a pillow one night, I could have smothered you in your crib, but I didn’t Tristan. Perhaps it’s because I wanted to know the kind of woman you’d become, but like the little parasite that you are, you’ve wormed your way back inside of me. When you cry at night something inside of me wants to cry too. Wants to comfort you. But that’s weakness. That’s death.
“So,” she practically spat, “before you dare speak to me about love you think about everything I’ve given up raising you. Think of the advancements I could have had. Think of the targets I could have taken. I could have traveled, after my last assignment I had stock and value with the brotherhood but for the last dozen years I’ve lingered. Why? Because you and your sisters needed me. You think I wanted to be a wet nurse? Like everything else in life I suffered through it because I had too. No one else was going to look after you, and if I’d sent you home to my people . . . well that is not the life you or your sisters deserved. You think giving up my past is easy? I’ve paid for that past. I’ve suffered for that past. I’m what I am and I will not change. I gave you life, I gave you choices, but I’m not sacrificing any more to make you happy. You can despise me if you want, better yet you can try to kill me, but don’t you dare ask any more of me.”
I allowed myself to become visible. I wanted to steel myself like my mother. To cover the emotions but it would have been a lie. I knew there were tears streaming down my face but I didn’t care.
“How can I ever trust you?” I asked, “should I advance in the Dawn Counsel?”
“You can’t Tristan,” she said, meeting my eyes, “If you learn any lesson from this it’s that you can’t trust anyone. The brotherhood has it’s minions everywhere. Should you oppose the brotherhood they will try to eliminate you, and if I am ordered to, I will try to kill. You’re a powerful mage now, perhaps I’d even fail, but I’d try and you’d need to kill me.”
“Who gives you your orders?” I asked.
“I won’t tell you that. It’s not something I’d reveal under torture either. Besides if he should die then another would take his place. There’s always someone to give the commands.”
“Then what do we do then?” I asked, “I don’t want to hurt you but I can’t allow you to threaten myself or our family head. What do we do?”
“I see only three choices,” mother said in exasperated voice, the one she used when she felt one of us was being silly or simply not trying, “We kill each other, you submit to the brotherhood, or we continue to walk the tightrope and pray the hammer never falls. Those are our choices. For what it’s worth I’d prefer one of the first two choices.”
“What about the fourth option?” I asked feeling numb, “I decimate your organization killing every covert agent you have but sparing the exposed agents. It sends the message to your superiors that their duplicity won’t be tolerated but that we’re still willing to bargain if they continue to deal out in the open.”
“Amusing Tristan,” mother said, “but not something you’re capable of pulling off. The brotherhood excels at stealth and espionage. There’s not a move you can make that they can’t anticipate. ”
“I learned about your involvement with the brotherhood five days ago,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “and I knew you’d have a handler, but I wasn’t sure how often he’d contact you. I summoned an elder gnode to follow you to see if I could discover who it was. You wouldn’t have seen the monster, it’s naturally invisible and completely incorporeal and not at all of this world, but you would have felt the thing gnawing away at your emotions. It doesn’t understand language or shapes very well but it tastes and feels emotions better then we can see or hear. You made a pick up, your instructions I assume, but your master’s thoughts were still on the letter. The gnode was able follow the trail back to your master.”
Mother’s face was blank, but seeing as she had nothing to say I continued.
“Tell me about Gerialar Divalean mother,” I said, “Tell me about Alma Telvanta. Anteki Alresian is a joke but the other two pull your strings. I suspect that there’s another above them but for now I’m happy crippling your organization.”
“This isn’t a game Tristan,” Mother finally said, I saw the pause before she spoke, as if she were trying to steady herself, “They’ll demand blood, if you’re right they can’t allow their identities to be known. You might think you’re playing a clever little game here Tristan but these are dangerous people. When word gets back . . .”
“Word isn’t going to get back,” I said, “There’s no one for it to get back too. We had a score to settle with Alma from way back. Seems one of her assassins tried to kill us. Technically it was Kellani that hired her, but she trained her. And Gerialar was a cold blooded killer. As well as being the one who ran the brotherhood behind the scenes it was he that organized the murder of Keltar Islaran. We’ve already dealt with them mother, I couldn’t risk having you warn them, but when your new master contacts you, tell them that murders and assassins won’t be tolerated in Sasserine. Also tell them that the next time they build a secret lair to house their monks and assassins that sound proofing works both ways. Be well mother. I doubt we’ll see each other again.”
I activated my ring and then silently levitated away. I waited a moment, to see if my words would register an inkling of emotion through that facade, but I now wish that I hadn’t. Every moment of smug satisfaction I thought I might have left in an instant as my mother fell to her knees . . . and started to cry. I felt like I’d been stabbed in the guts and I didn’t know why. My whole life I can’t recall her so much as laughing or shedding a single tear but there, in front of me, she started bawling like a baby. I couldn’t understand why. I felt like a monster to have done that to my mother. Worse I couldn’t find the courage to comfort her. I silently left her.
I should have stayed, I should have comforted her, but I didn’t.
I am a monster. I am a demon,
Cthulhu dreams
That actually made me shiver...
Great stuff, Guy! I got nothing else. That was good.
OK , wow that was worth the wait, Keep them coming guy this is wonderful!
Hey Smarnil! To answer your question: no we didn't reach that point yet in these diaries and to be honest I'm starting to run out of steam for this project. I'm thinking that I might write up the final battle (it was epic) but I might not bother with the rest of this adventure.
Well, leaking some steam over such an extended project is to be expected... Especially when you are no longer playing the campaign.
A big part of the fun is to entertain your fellow players and DM. Having some support from Internet fans is fine, but there is nothing like direct, eye contact praise, to motivate you (well, I guess I could come to your place to give you a big hug, but it wouldn't be convenient).
If you aren't feeling like writing more of Lidu's adventures, I think you should put it on the back burner for a time. In my (very limited) experience, exhausting yourself at half-hearted and botched attempts would more surely spell the end of this diary than waiting a little for the steam to get some pressure back.
So, take a break if you have to. We aren't going anywhere.
By the way, very good stuff between Tristan and her mother. I like the way the conversation didn't go the way she expected...
Nice hommage !
Sorry to hear about your lack of steam. An unfinished story is such a sad thing... I got a six month lapse myself before getting to write again, so I guess there is still hope.
Did you find another game as good as Savage Tide ? As I recall, last time you talked of it, you joined a PBM who later tanked. Better luck since ?
Nothing new or interesting to add to this campaign, I might still write up the last adventure we completed some day but it's seeming less and less likely as time goes on. I just thought I'd bump this thread to post a Tristan Lidu sighting in someone else's campaign!
This makes me happy :D
I like to see Tristan making appearances in other people's games :)
Wow, it's been a while, and I actually came here to check on Tristan because she came up again last night in our game. When I get my journal up to date, I post a link! Thanks, Guy!
I figured that since Tristan made her second appearance in our campaign, she deserved her own mention in our Dramatis Personæ.
Nice hommage !
Sorry to hear about your lack of steam. An unfinished story is such a sad thing... I got a six month lapse myself before getting to write again, so I guess there is still hope.
Did you find another game as good as Savage Tide ? As I recall, last time you talked of it, you joined a PBM who later tanked. Better luck since ?
I'm thinking that I might not be able to finish CoBI, but who knows, I might do a bit more writing for this campaign. There truly are some amazing characters and I really loved writing for Tristan and company.
I did find another campaign that I'm enjoying very much though. Pygon runs Serpent's Skull that started up soon after the AoWs campaign I was playing in folded. I've even done a bit of writing for that as well.
Also I should apologize for not getting back to people immediately as of late. I haven't been checking in with this site as much as I should I think.
You're welcome, eh.
I'm still lurking here, both to read Moonbeam's journal, and to write my own. It's not like you had an obligation to monitor your threads !
It felt as though I was arranging a puzzle in the dark. My index was massive. Over eight hundred pieces of research, nuggets and kernels I’d plucked out of my conjuration manuals, raw pieces of spells, and with my planar research thrown into the mix. The average spell of the first sphere usually had less the one hundred components, and that was with some generous accreditation to what a component was. There was little doubt in my mind that I’d need to do some trimming.
“It’s quite strange to see how these things break down for you,” the head mused. I’d sat it atop one of the shelves between the sulphur and iron shavings. It looked down upon my work and smiled. Thankfully I had a little money to rent one of the private labs and I had no fears about talking to my fetish, “I find it amazing to see how your language shapes magic.”
“You could help,” I suggested, not taking my eyes off of the jumble, “I’m beginning to see that I won’t be able to use all this.”
“You’re just seeing this now, are you?” Chimpman asked, “I suppose I should have said something sooner, but you do love your research and you do love being thorough. It was fun watching the mortal you work.”
“I’m not going to be sidetracked,” I said ignoring his hints, “I need this done by tomorrow. The pieces need to fit by then, which according to my schedule means I need this assembled by tonight, which means I’ll need this trimmed by noon, which means in the next hour and a half I need to trim seven hundred pieces . . .”
“Ever get the feeling that you’re putting too much thought into things?” the head asked.
I ignored him and looked back at my puzzle. Hop-Toy was busy rearranging scraps of paper, power words that I’d researched and written out, and each word carried with it a dozen or so bits of research. The paper was beginning to add up. I let him work at that for a while. We both knew what I intended but each piece seemed necessary. The problem with that was there were more verbal components then the average spell from the fifth sphere.
Then there were the components. I’d used the bits I’d known, objects that had a well defined use and purpose, but their effect on the words was variable. Like adding chemical components together in an alchemy lab, mixing together things that had known results was always predictable, but mixing together components without documented results was always dangerous. Even if you knew both components there was always the chance that they’d react in unexpected ways. Usually you might be able to predict the results, but there was a chance, and alchemy was dangerous for this reason. People had died discovering alchemist’s fire. I knew the words, I knew the components, but fitting them together could have completely unpredictable results.
The somatic component was one of the few safe parts of spell research. Either the spell would flow or it wouldn’t. The gestures were the last piece to the puzzle but I knew I had researched far too many of them as well. I had an idea what this spell would need but there was a possibility that I might need something to quicken my magic and I’d researched everything I could find on the subject just in case.
I sighed and leaned back. My head was starting to hurt and I massaged my temples. I clearly was over thinking things but I didn’t have the tools to stop. Extreme distress seemed to work wonders in battle but left to my own devices I seemed unable to force myself into a decision. Perhaps I needed to take my research to the roof and jump off it?
I narrowed my eyes and glared back at the table. I looked over the words. Then I felt something snap into place.
‘What is it?’ Hop-Toy asked suddenly looking up at me. Clearly he’d felt the sudden, almost violent, realization in my head as well.
Not the most graceful of creatures Hop-Toy had shuffled through the paper scraps and accidentally twisted one around so that it lay vertically across one of the horizontal pieces. The vowels had lined up and through my squinted eyes the words had looked like one.
‘I don’t understand,’ Hop-Toy said as he looked at the strange word he’d inadvertently created, ‘How would this help? How could you say such a word? Explain it to me.’
“You know words of power,” I asked, suddenly trying to rearrange the words so they formed one massive word, “Words that can stun, blind, kill? Well they’re simply made up of raw verbal components that can alter the very fabric of reality. I think I see how such things exist. There are certain sounds that have resonance. I think that . . . Aaaauuuugghh!”
I couldn’t manipulate the pieces of paper fast enough. They sometimes twisted or lined up at odd angles, sometimes my sleeve would catch a few, and in my frustration at explaining things to Hop-Toy I’d had enough of the traitorous and uncooperative paper. I dumped the entire works onto the floor. I moved to the blackboard. My morning notes were wiped off in an instant but as I quickly began scrawling my magnum opus it began to be clear to me that the chalk wasn’t fine enough to capture the nuances in the letters and symbols I needed. I moved to the walls writing each letter carefully with my fingers using . . . at that moment I didn’t know what I was using . . . something blackish.
I began collapsing my word components, forcing them, folding them, twisting them, and chopping out any unnecessary consonants or vowels. It felt like moments but as I began looking over my newly formed verbal component, a beautiful compound word that I’ve never seen before, I began to realize I was famished. I looked for my box lunch but Churtle’s work was strewn about the counter. A small bowl that had once held some tasty black bean paste was empty, smeared onto the walls I realized, but it was also all over my fingers, face, and hair. It dotted my dress as well.
“Balls,” I snapped as I sat down on the floor to gaze up at my work. I licked the paste from my fingers. I liked bean paste.
‘What is it?’ Hop-Toy asked as he hopped down onto my lap and stared up with me at the monstrosity that I’d created.
“It’s what I’d call a very good first step,” the head mused, “crawling along all these years, but now you’re finally walking.”
‘Will it work?’ Hop-Toy asked.
“It should,” the disembodied head laughed, “She’ll need to clean it up, get it on paper, and add some connective tissue so to speak, but as a newly researched spell it will do exactly what she intended.”
“I’m hungry,” I said, feeling the weight of my accomplishment, “And a little bit tired.”
. . .
The lady behind the window raised door to find me staring straight at her. She jumped. Clearly she wasn’t used to having someone waiting at the window of her department first thing in the morning.
“How can I help you initiate,” she asked.
I didn’t know her and I doubted if she knew me. She’d simply looked at my face and assumed I was an initiate. Most people in the tower as young as I were initiates. I had been, for a while, even young for an initiate, few in these halls were as young as seventeen, but this would soon change. Soon I’d be young as a black dagger.
I hoped.
“I have a new spell for peer review and notes for archiving,” I said. I’d practiced those words over and over so they sounded normal. I watched her eyes looking for any clue that she thought the words were abnormal. I saw no sign but it was hard to tell, for some reason she wasn’t meeting my gaze.
‘Remember to blink,’ Hop-Toy helpfully reminded me. I wisely took his advice.
“There are two sets of forms for you to fill out,” the woman said, handing me some paper. Behind the counter I saw her fiddling with her white hilted dagger. In two days time I would have one of my own.
“I know,” I said, “I have a pen for filling out forms.”
“I see that,” the woman said, licking her lips, “this is for the peer review . . .”
I allowed Hop-Toy to guide my pen so that I could maintain eye contact. Through his eyes I began to write. I had to continue to act normal. I smiled and watched her . . . the way humans often do. Everything was normal.
“Have you written a new cantrip dear?” the woman asked, briefly looking up at me before quickly focusing on the form I was filling in.
“I have it right here,” I said before I realized that she’d asked me something out of the anticipated order, “I would require a receipt showing the time and date you received this.”
“Excuse me?” she said glancing up before quickly looking back down at my writing.
“It’s one page,” I said trying to remember how small talk worked, “plus twenty eight pages of notes.”
There was an uncomfortable silence between us.
“My kobold makes the best bean paste,” I finally said. It may have taken a while but I successfully recalled something of non consequence to bring up in polite company. We would likely become friends later.
“You said you had something archive as well?” she asked.
I laughed, delighted to be back on script. The woman failed to laugh with me though. I thought for a moment we might be able to share a moment.
“Fifteen hundred pages,” I said, “Plus an envelope of scrap.”
“Please fill this . . .” I’d already begun working on the paper work for the archive.
“These are the notes for your spell?” she asked, seemingly amazed.
“Yes,” I managed after a moment. She collected my forms and looked them over.
“What’s this spell called?” She asked noting a blank section.
This was something I hadn’t considered . . .
“Tristan’s T-ttt-rick” I finally managed, not bad for thinking on my feet, “Tristan’s Trick!”
“You should put that down then,” she said, “and what does this spell do?”
That was something I hadn’t considered either. I knew what the spell did but I hadn’t thought that anyone in this department would care. It was all just paperwork to them.
“It . . .” I started, “Summons . . .” I fought for the word, that I needed, but I was on the verge of another language malfunction.
“It summons what?” she asked.
“Smoke!” I finally blurted out, “It summons smoke!”
. . .
“What I’m saying young Lidu is I don’t think I understand what this spell does or it’s use,” one of the black daggers reviewing my spell said, “I can see it’s quite complex, that’s not the point, I mean demonstrating your mastery of magic is all well and good, but the point of this review is to see if this spell is worth adding to our collection.”
I didn’t like him I decided.
“These notes,” the lady black daggers said, “twenty eight pages for a first sphere spell? Was it your goal to make understanding its function more difficult then understanding its use?”
“And did you really think we’d get through all this?” The third black dagger asked pointing to my research notes. I thought his name was Margold, he was one of the three (along with Lux), that I’d revealed the unfinished shadow pearls to, “Some of us have been saddled with direly important research on top of our usual duties. No one here has a week to look through your notes.”
“Explain to me why this isn’t an illusion spell?” the first black dagger demanded, “It would have taken a week to put together a simple illusion spell that achieves this same result . . .”
“This took me a week,” I said pointing at my spell. That caused the first one to raise his eyebrows.
“That,” I said gesturing towards my notes, “Took the better part of six years. Condensing that into my spell took the better part of six days. I don’t know what you want, I’ve simplified things as best I could, but I needed to show my work. I did that should someone wish to follow me through my thought process. It’s not an illusion spell because many of the monstrosities I face these days see straight through figments and glamers. It’s not transmutation because I’m not a transmuter. It’s a conjuration spell because I’m a conjurer. As to its use, that should be immediately obvious to anyone who’s seen action in the field.”
“You summon smoke,” the first black dagger said, “how would that, in any way shape or form, be useful?”
“It’s smoke,” I said, unsure of how that could be any more precise.
There was a silence for a moment as everyone waited for me to elaborate. I could hear people in the small crowd murmuring. The black daggers seemed to grow impatient. Margold began tapping his note book.
“I suppose you could use it to quickly block line of sight,” Margold finally said, “protect yourself for a moment from some ranged spells or targeted spells.”
“But that would only give her a moment at best,” the first black dagger sighed, “This smoke dissipates quickly. You cast a second sphere illusion spell and suddenly you have ages to plan and you don’t . . .”
“The problem there is the casting time,” I said, “for those few seconds you’re wide open and vulnerable, granted with time to prepare invisibility is superior, but in desperation my spell could give you that moment needed to cast your illusions.”
“But my point is this: your spell’s effects would last but a moment.”
“In my line of work a moment is all I need.”
There was some laughter from the audience. Some of the white daggers, more then a few initiates, and a couple senor students from the house of the dragon had come to the review. More then I believe I’d ever seen for such a low level spell. Normally there wouldn’t be this many here to see an initiate’s spell. I suspected that the room would be empty to be honest. Had it been a black dagger sitting where I was sitting this review would have been advertised. Likely the room would be packed and there would have been time set aside for questions from the floor.
“Cute,” the first black dagger said, “How long did it take you to come up with that line?”
“That was only twenty minutes of planning,” I honestly said, “I try to anticipate what people will ask and come up with cleaver responses. Then I run them past my kobold to make sure they’re not too far out there. But seriously, the difference between this and invisibility say, is I could instantly start summoning something under cover of smoke, but it would take a moment or two to get my invisibility spell up. I can summon this as fast as you could cast a feather fall spell.”
“Well,” the second black dagger said, “I think you’ve given us much to talk about, I think we’d like to discuss our thoughts in private now if you don’t mind.”
“Very well,” I said as they got up to leave, “I believe there’s some sort of initiation tonight? I return to Farshore to prepare.”
“Wait,” Margold said, “What . . .”
To prove my point I washed myself in smoke with my new spell and then used my metamagic to silently teleport myself to Lavinia’s room back in Farshore. All they would have seen was a puff of smoke and when it cleared I’d be gone. They were wizards, they knew most of my tricks, but they probably wouldn’t know for sure how I’d done it. I laughed at the thought of them checking the room in case I’d gone invisible or something like that.
“You know laughing manically to yourself is never a good sign,” Lavinia said from under the covers of her bed behind me.
I gasped.
“I thought you’d be at work,” I said by way of an apology.
“I work from home remember?” Lavinia said, “And you said today your spell would be peer reviewed, which sounded like a big deal, so I took the day off, but when I woke you were already gone.”
I put my hands to my mouth. Never in a million years would I have thought Lavinia would want to sit through one of these dull reviews, most students didn’t bother unless it was their spell. The review was usually equipped to handle an audience, some of the more impressive spells were reviewed in a lecture hall, but I honestly believed that nobody would bother to attend mine. I thought it would have just been me and the three black daggers reviewing.
“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” I said as I threw myself onto the bed next to her, “I’m so sorry, so sorry, so sorry. I didn’t even think to ask. They’re kind of dull and tedious if you don’t know what’s going on. I thought I was saving you from something dreadful by not asking because I knew if I did ask you’d have felt compelled to attend.”
“Let me ask you something,” Lavinia said grabbing my head in a sort of half headlock against her chest, “If I were taking my martial review of my forms in one of the schools of fencing back in Sasserine would you want to go?”
“Of course,” I freely admitted, twisting slightly to find a more comfortable position for my body, “But that’s partly because I like seeing you in those wonderfully tight pants and those knee high boots.”
“I’m being serious,” Lavinia snapped.
“As am I,” I snapped back, then, feeling her grip loosen, I rolled over to put my head in her lap, “I’d want to be there for moral support of course, but there would be something else in it for me there. Of course I wanted you to come to my review but I’d want you to enjoy yourself as well. I want you to come if I have another peer review, Wee Jas knows I’d love to have you with me everywhere I go, but asking you to go seemed selfish. You have a life outside of mine . . .”
“I just worry that you don’t think I’m smart enough . . .”
She broke off talking the moment I started laughing again. To me it seemed the most absurd thing I’d ever heard. Then I saw her anger. I wasn’t immediately sure why she suddenly stood and stalked off. I was left floundering in the bed.
“What is it?” I asked, “Are you mad?”
She didn’t respond but instead walked into her private bathroom and shut the door behind her.
“Lavinia talk to me!” I said banging on the door. She was ignoring me though. I took flight, zipping out the window and flying up to the bathroom window. Most of spells required line of sight sadly. I waited a moment for Lavinia to finish her business in the bathroom (she naturally wouldn’t have retreated in there without having some reason for going in there in the first place) but I wasn’t intent on waiting for her to wash up. I folded space and time to move through the walls.
“I think you plenty smart,” I snapped as I stepped into the room behind her, “I fell in love with a woman because of her intelligence, her looks caught my eye, but I fell in love with her mind and intellect.”
“Yet you keep things from me,” she said glaring at me through the mirror, “This business with your priest, your studies, other things as well, and don’t lie to me, I’ve been watching you Tristan, you’re not a very good liar. Maybe you don’t think me stupid but you do keep secrets from me. I’ve never held anything back from you why do you have to keep secrets from me? Why, for example, are you wearing that needle belt under your cloths?”
“It’s a penance from the High Magnus,” I said, the belt itched from time to time but it was seldom anything worse then uncomfortable, I had a high pain threshold after all, “Annah gave me the penance in hopes it would teach me some respect. Although I thought I had respect for her before I’ll do the penance because I trust her wisdom.”
“And what did you say to her that would . . .”
“Questioning religious doctrine,” I quickly cut in, “All things considered I think I got off lightly.”
She spun to face me.
“How about you tell me about Hop-Toy now?” Lavinia said, “And no more lies this time.”
“Okay,” I said, “There was no hawk.”
“You know what I mean,” Lavinia said, “He’s no longer a toad. No longer like any toad I’ve ever seen.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling the words bubble up, “He’s been touched and shaped by things not of this world.”
“What does that mean?” Lavinia asked, I couldn’t feel any anger or fear in her voice, “Like demons or devils or something like that?”
“No,” I said, “Nothing like that. Those evil entities are part of this world in a way, they routinely touch it, what has influenced him is completely alien to this world. Some would say that when reality was formed it was carved out of pure chaos. First came law to give it its shape, then there was this swirling mass with law and chaos, and then came good and evil, and then, in that swirling fabric, the centre became the prime material plane. They say the gods shaped the rest. But there was something beyond that Lavinia, outside the swirl, something nether good nor evil, nor lawful nor even truly chaotic, as chaos as it exists in this world was defined and refined by law, and somewhere in that mess is a plane so completely unlike our own it usually defies any and all description. We scholars usually call this the far realm, for lack of a better term, and touching that realm has somewhat warped Hop-Toy Dan.”
“And what about you?” she asked. Now I sensed the fear. I knew I should stop talking but the words kept coming.
“There are countless ways to loose one’s sanity Lavinia,” I said looking into her eyes, “Mathematicians have gone mad looking into infinity, alchemists minds have unravelling while trying to untangle the building blocks of existence, and painters breaking because they were unable to capture a drop of dew on a single rose peddle. I’m loosing my mind Lavinia. One can’t look into that vast unexplainable infinite known as the far realm without being touched by it. For me that journey began before we met. Back while I was at the House of the Dragon. I studied the official curriculum by day and delved into forbidden knowledge by night. My mind expanded, but it was also altered. I knew then, as I know now, that reality for me is a fragile thing. The fabric that holds our worlds together is paper thin, and for me, my mind is now attuned to things outside our realm of reality. I hear things. See things. My world is slipping and it’s gotten worse as of late. Sometimes I think I’m someone else. Sometimes I feel like there’s something inside me that needs to escape. Sometimes people get distorted, words twist in my mouth, and the only thing I have to hold onto, the only thing that makes me remember what’s real, is my friends and you. So that’s why I didn’t tell you about my toad. I promised that I wouldn’t change but I am and I can’t stop.”
Lavinia looked me in the eye for the longest time.
“What do we do now then?” she asked.
“We?” I asked, after a moment, “How could there be a ‘we’? No sensible woman would . . .”
“Are you a danger to me?” Lavinia quickly asked.
“What?” I gasped, “No! I’d rather die then . . . I could never hurt you . . .”
“Are you a danger to our friends or Farshore?”
“Of course not,” I snapped, “I’m loosing my grip on reality not on my morality.”
“You needn’t snap at me,” Lavinia said, and I knew she was right, she was handling it remarkably well all things considered. I’d thought that she’d have sent me packing by now. She of course would still need to know if I could still be of use to her and Farshore, “do you see friends as enemies or anything like that?”
“No,” I said, “I’d have left to live in the wilds of Renkru if I thought that were a possibility. I see and hear things that might not be there . . .”
“When you think you’re someone else, are these other people dangerous?”
“It’s not like that,” I said, “I get someone else’s eyes, but I still have my memories. They know who people are . . .”
“So then, the question still stands: what do we do?”
“Well I suppose Kale would . . .”
“I don’t want to talk about him right now!” Lavinia snapped, “I’m talking about us! You and I. You can choose if, when, and how you deal with your companions later. What I want to know is what do we do?”
“We?” I almost cried, “How can there be a ‘we’? I just told you I’m loosing my mind! That’s why I kept things from you for so long. I love you. I didn’t want to loose you, but how could you . . .”
“Tristan!” Lavinia snapped, cutting me short, she then seemed to stare at me for the longest time. Finally she took my hand.
“Follow me,” she said. She led me out of her private bath and back into the bedroom. She sat on her bed and pulled me down beside her.
“Tristan,” she said very slowly, “Where you under the impression that I knew you all this time and didn’t notice something odd? Did you think that I thought you completely lucid and sane?”
“Well . . .” I’d never really though about how Lavinia viewed my mental state, “I’m sure I must have seemed a bit eccentric . . .”
Suddenly a noise came from Lavinia. It took me a moment to realize it was laughter. Her laugh was beautiful and musical, but it was completely unexpected, and I sat their puzzled not knowing what could be funny about this situation.
“Do you know the first time I laid eyes on you?” she asked, I shook my head indicating that I didn’t, “You used to walk past my school almost every day. I suppose I saw you many times back then, but you were an odd character, clearly talking to yourself, wearing that plain white dress, I mean you were pretty enough, but your face was always kind of twisted as if you were in an argument. You weren’t really in my mind set at the time naturally. Then this one day, you were walking along, not quite following the side of the road, and you started drifting towards its centre just as a coach was driving by. I thought for a moment that this unknown . . . eccentric as you put it . . . was going to get run down. For a moment I thought maybe I might save you or something, but you know how in a crisis sometimes your body just doesn’t want to work, well I was frozen helplessly in place, watching in horror, thinking I was about to see you run down right in front of me, but then some stranger waves the horses down and the coach stops just a few feet short. The coach driver starts shouting at you and you just sort of looked up at him as if seeing him and the coach for the first time. I must say you give him quite the glare, than you must have realized you were in the middle of the road, and you moved to the side of the road and continued on as if nothing had happened.
“When you turned your back the driver took his nasty whip and looked about ready to give you a snap but the stranger had jumped up onto the bench and caught the man’s wrist:
““That’s Tristan Lidu,” he said, “one of the district’s councillor’s grand nieces, and she’s a wizard to boot.””
“”That crazy bint?” the driver said, “She walked out in front of my carriage! She ain’t no wizard, she’s got to be fourteen at best.””
“”She’s sixteen and she graduated top of her class from the house of the dragon,” this fellow says, “They say maybe one of the most talented students ever to graduate from there. That was months ago. She might be powerful enough to blast you to ash. These wizards, their minds don’t work like regular folk’s minds do.””
“Then the fellow hops down and the fellow in the carriage drives away. At the time I was absolutely floored. Like that driver I didn’t think you looked like a powerful wizard. You certainly didn’t act like I thought one should but I watched you every day from there on out. I once even followed you to that shop you used to work at, and watched you mixing orders behind the counter. I admit that you hadn’t really caught my eye so much at that point, but I did think you kind of attractive, and you had me curious. I thought if I ever needed a wizard I’d track you down.”
“Who was the man?” I asked, “The one that saved my life?”
“Oh,” Lavinia shrugged, “I didn’t know him, never saw him before or after actually, but I remember he was dressed up for a play or something. He was one of those traveling minstrel types, he had a harp and a flute with him, and they looked functional, but the thing that stood out was he was pretty much dressed up to look like Heward. You know Heward from the company of seven? Well his costume looked like that, right down to the tuning forks, I mean it was a really detailed getup, and I suppose he did have a passing resemblance to the pictures I’ve seen, but he was hardly convincing, and his cloths were decades out of style. He must have been a traveling actor or something because the opera house only likes to use the most recent designs.
“Anyways,” Lavinia said, getting back on subject, “I was under no illusions as to your mental state when I hired you. I remembered what that man said: that your mind doesn’t work like normal folk’s minds do, and in truth I only hired you because I thought you were a bit of an idiot savant, but then when we met and you talked . . . you had such passion, such humility, and such humanity.
“When you confronted that pirate . . . I was scared you know, I’d worked myself almost free, but I was scared to do anything. He’d hurt Tolin, Zan, and he’d killed poor Cora, but then you showed up, and you stared him down . . . I knew everything was going to be alright. Everything seemed to turn out alright when you were around. I never for a moment thought you were completely normal up there,” Lavinia said tapping my head, “but that’s something I’ve come to accept. That’s something I can live with.”
“There’s more,” I said, “I’m changing physically as well.”
“What do you mean?” Lavinia asked.
“Like Hop-Toy,” I said, swallowing hard, “I’m going through a metamorphosis. Soon I’ll stop aging altogether. My body resonates in tune with that realm outside our reality you see. Fragments of my past, present, and perhaps even future will fuse making me a composite being. And then . . . then . . .”
Lavinia waited.
“Then I become something more then what I am now. Physically there will likely be a slight change, that’s unavoidable, but I will still be who I am now . . . provided that I don’t face anymore mental degradation. This isn’t the same as what happened to . . . I haven’t sold my soul, it’s a natural progression, well not entirely natural, but a shift of the mind and body. It’s similar to the spiritual anthesis that a monk goes though. It’s like mind over matter and that sort of thing, but more like mind over reality. Mental transcendence if you will . . .”
Lavinia continued to stare at me. Waiting. I thought of the rhyming girl.
“I might grow tentacles out of the back of my skull . . .” I said putting my hands up to my head and wiggling my fingers to represent the tentacles. I waited for her to look away in horror.
“Soooo . . .” Lavinia said after a moment. Strangely unaffected by my pantomime.
“So that comes back to your question: what do we do?” I said.
“Well,” Lavinia said, “As I see it we take steps. I understand there’s a ceremony tonight, where the witchwardens sometimes raise and promote members. Maybe our first step should be getting ready for that?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,” I said. I felt so grateful to her. She’d heard my confessions and didn’t judge. She didn’t accuse. She trusted me. I loved her more then anything at that moment.
“That,” Lavinia said, grabbing my chin, “Is something we’re going to need to work on. But for now let’s get ready for the ceremony. As a member of the dawn counsel I’m allowed to attend of course, but normally I’d take a pass on these quasi-religious things, but I feel this month’s ceremony might be worth attending.”
Hi ! I see you haven't lost your touch...
I did particularly love your description of the spell research process. Very close to real life mathematicians !
The way Tristan is losing touch with casual communication (when to smile, why, etc;) is very well done too.
And the fact that despite her best efforts, she couldn't hide from Lavinia that she is quite NOT the normal gril she tried to impersonate...
And... (you got the idea)
Hope you enjoyed writing it, because it was quite a treat to read.
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Awesome! Always love to see more Tristan, Guy. Here's one person that hopes you finish the adventure. Or maybe even beyond ...;)
Thanks Bryan!
I love Vrealk BTW, Ekuur doesn't mesh as well with my character Karrin, but your goblin and my gnome are like two peas in a pod :)
How far are you in Seeker's STAP BTW?
Thanks! I really enjoy Markhet, too. The image of the two of them riding a lion into battle against a gnoll tribe is just awesome, IMO. I also really like Karrin's long ramblings; they really lighten things up. I know Ekuur's the outsider, but I may need to see what happens if he interacts with her a bit more. Should be fun!
We're actually fairly far in to Seeker's STAP, especially for a PbP. We've just arrived at Farshore and finished the first pirate fight (a little ways into Tides of Dread, I believe).
RPG Superstar 2010 Top 32
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Wow - Tristan is back!
That's wonderful news! my two favourite Alienist stories (the only two I know) have just posted updates after long absences. The day just got brighter :-)
Love the way you're going with this, and really interested as to how your CoBI goes. I'm halfway through DM-ing it now :-)
Would you mind posting Tristan's spell? I'm rather curious as to that too. If it's need-to-know black dagger only stuff, I quite understand :-)
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RPG Superstar 2010 Top 32
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http://www.enworld.org/forum/story-hour/161697-shilsens-eberron-sh-dragon-c onfusion-3-16-12-a-83.html
Posting from the phone so not formatted :-)
It starts off a bit diary-like but after a few pages its a full novel. I've got so many ideas for mu campaign from it. Hope you have the time to get into it :-)
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School Conjuration; Level Bard 1, sorcerer/wizard 1, witch 1
Casting Time 1 immediate action
Components V
Range close (25 ft. + 5 ft./2 levels)
Effect one 5-ft square
Duration 1 round
Saving Throw none; Spell Resistance no
A solid plume of smoke completely obscures everything in the target square blocking all sight, including darkvision, in or out of the square. Creatures within the smoke have and suffer total concealment (50% miss chance, and the attacker can't use sight to locate the target).
Strong wind (21+ mph) instantly disperses the smoke.
The spell does not function underwater.
"It's smoke."