DM Barcas - Kingmaker: Rivers Run Red

Game Master Isaac Duplechain

"I am sorry you feel that way Jhod, to all of you, but that is the interpretation of the laws of Newhaven as I truly know and understand them. Kavken, you misspeak when you assume the laws were crafted by the Master of the First Vault himself and imposed here by me - you had a hand in many of them yourself. But you cannot circumvent legal precedent from thousands of years of society for the sake of politics, not here anyway."

Verik shudders for a moment, and then adds, "From my travels I've heard of a rare exception administered in Cheliax to diabolical traitors, but you would not like to hear it I assure you. So unless you can cite a precedent, my resolve remains unwavering."

Berrin starts fidgeting as the clerics argue, seeing two of his friends in a heated argument made him nervous. It was inevitable that he would have to side with one or the other but he had no head for either theology or law but they both seemed firm in their beliefs. 'No wait!' A realization hits Berrin, he didn't have a seat on the council so he didn't have a vote. He wouldn't have to choose sides!

A bit relieved at the realization he nevertheless waits tensely for others to speak up. Nikolai hadn't said a word the whole session and Taisper has a seat on the council though he chose to sit with the crowd and Akiros hadn't actually voted. By Berrin's count they had'nt enough votes to go forward with the trial though with Berrin, Svetlana, Oleg and Zander for and Verik and Jhod against. That would mean three for and two against if Berrin's vote was nulled. Two votes remained uncast, three with Jemini's.

Thinking along those lines make Berrin even more nervous, watching the scene he tries to see everyone at the same time.

Disguise check, minor details only: 1d20 + 7 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 7 + 5 = 28
Perception check, with Guidance: 1d20 + 8 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 8 + 1 = 20

Taisper sits in the crowd during the founders' meeting, as is his wont, and his appearance is altered, as is also usually the case. It is not a disguise intended to fool anyone, per se -- especially not the other founders and definitely not Verik -- but it is more than enough to smudge his appearance in the memory of all others in attendance, making him much more difficult to recognize or remember or even think about in any substantive way.

Taisper, you see, is working the long con.

He assumes most of the other founders do not even know he is in disguise, or if they do they don't care; either case suits him just fine. The less any of them care about anything he's doing, the better, as far as he's concerned.

He flintily watches Akiros as the erstwhile general pays too much attention to Berrin. There is conflict clearly written on the samurai's face, and though Taisper couldn't claim to know the whole cause of it, he reckons he could take an educated guess or two as to its nature. From Akiros, The inquisitor lets his gaze move to each of the founders in turn, thinking of how he now relates to these people with whom he once was so close, but now...is not.

Verik and Jemini do as they've always done and argue philosophy and logic and law. Their maddening discussions give Taisper the same feelings of awe and anger and inadequacy they always have. While he's never considered himself stupid, it's how he feels around those two, and he hates them for it almost as much as he hates himself for doing so. Verik's recent overtures have all hit Taisper where he's most vulnerable, and the inquisitor fears some ruse or diversion on the cleric's part, or, worse; that he's being sincere. And then Jemini. Shining, glorious Jemini. So quick to forgive the Stag Lord, whose sword pinned her to the earth like a bug-alchemist's specimen, yet forgiving Taisper never at all for his timely execution of an immediate threat. Golden Jemini, now back from the dead, the former Stag Lord her thrall. Taisper was surprised at first how angered he was by her re-appearance, but upon further consideration, sitting in the long hours before the blue horror of dawn, counting his Currency, he understood; her resurrection meant he was wrong about so much. Glorious Jemini, once again making him stupid and wrong. He thought her death was a Choosing of him over her, a sign of his power and ascendancy. But no; it was nothing. She knew he was too weak to take a hit from the Stag Lord's brutal blade and so sacrificed herself, knowing her family was rich and powerful enough to bring her back, that multiple attempts, in fact, would be made to do so. Taisper has said nothing to the Lebeda scion since her return, and that suits him fine. He knows that if presented with the chance to speak with her he would have to ask why she did it, why she let herself be Taken, and he also knows he couldn't bear the answer. In his heart of hearts Taisper thinks he knows why she let herself die, and that it was at least in part her ultimate way of saying to him, "Taisper, I forgive you." Alternately, she could just as likely have done it purely for her own reasons having absolutely nothing to do with him. He's honestly not sure which would be worse, but he is sure he doesn't want to sit through her inevitably long, drawn-out, perfectly-reasoned, rhetorically confident and just and good and sure-to-be g!@&+!n perfect explanation; he just wants to be free to hate her.

Berrin, now free of the responsibility he thinks he doesn't want, whom Taisper had originally seen as a sort of surrogate big brother but whose limp waffling after the Orlivanch Victory and standoffish-ness towards the youngster since then sent a very clear message; ' kid, I want nothing to do with you...' Fine. That can be arranged.

Zander, similarly a surrogate big brother and once Taisper's only real friend out of the lot of them, but then disappeared into his duties as Warden and now as much wild thing as man as far as he was concerned. It was the loss of Zander's counsel that hurt the inquisitor most, but he would never admit it. Not anymore.

Tandlara, recovering from her injuries, always inscrutable to Taisper, but devastating in the rare occasions she shared her insights with him. He was thankful he had no reason to speak with her.

Nikolai and Akiros were both Judged as far as he was concerned and not worth any real thought on his part. They'd give him Reason soon enough.

Ilyana's presentation of the petition makes Taisper sigh, but he also feels some relief. This would make certain things easier for him. Likewise when Grigori shows up and starts blathering again Taisper chuckles inwardly; now that was good comedy! Reading the original charter to those who enforced it. Hilarious! He wonders if Grigori knows that he has been Judged and will not be alive for very much longer.

Taisper sits, slightly hunched and slouched, his clothes plain and his hair pulled back and stuffed under a workman's cap, his skin made by makeup to look slightly shiny and unhealthy. He sits in this disguise, which is different from his last one and from whatever one he'll use next, and he listens, and he watches, and he keeps score.

Ilyana's voice shakes as she speaks up again, trembling as she addresses the Founders - and interrupts Verik in his demand for a legal precedent. "Isn't common sense enough? I might not be a solicitor, but anyone with two eyes can see that the Stag Lord is still alive! He didn't have a trial. He died in battle - the same battle in which my husband died. You gave Nicholas a choice and it was one that he was happy to make. He fought for his freedom and for all of ours. What did the Stag Lord fight for? They were both dead, and now only one of them is alive - and it's not the one who fought on Newhaven's side. Where is the justice? If Nicholas lays in the ground while the Stag Lord lives, do our choices have any consequences? Had Nicholas fought alongside the Stag Lord, he might still be alive!" She takes a few deep ragged breaths, her emotional appeal taxing her heavily. "That man is responsible for so much. I can't believe that only Grigori is going to stand up for what is right. It's why I asked him to be here. Someone needed to." She sits down, her eyes downcast.

Kesten stands and makes the announcement. "It is agreed upon. Council members for the proposal to have Nikolai Rogarvia stand trial for alleged crimes as the Stag Lord, with Akiros Ismort and Jemini Lebeda also standing as Accused: Kesten Garess, Jemini Lebeda, Zander Whitestag, Oleg Leveton, Svetlana Leveton, Akiros Ismort. Council members against: Jhod Kavken, Verik Jarrow. Council members abstaining: Tandlara Esirrien. The proposal carries. Unless any Council Member," he emphasizes who actually gets a vote in the matter, "objects, Nikolai Rogarvia shall not be remanded or restrained in any way. His actions have earned his this much, at least." He nods to the guards, who look to Akiros, who nods his assent. They stand back with their spears no longer readied. Apparently satisfied, Grigori heads back to the courtyard to stir up trouble in the city itself. His voice carries through the courtyard, heralding the impending trial to the citizens and beckoning them to attend.

The next order of business begins immediately afterwards. Kesten practically growls as he announces it, with the taste of their discord still fresh in their mouths. "In light of Akiros Ismort's able defense of the city, I propose that he be named the new Captain of the Guard to fill the vacant position. Similarly, I propose that Berrin Myrdal be named the the General of Newhaven's army. I move for unanimous decision. Do I hear any objection?" Hearing only the citizens voicing approval in the gallery, it is Verik's duty to make note of the change and to swear them in.

If you want to flesh that section out, I don't have a problem with that. In the meantime, I'm going to move on to the next item of business.

One of the guards comes up to Kesten and whispers something in his ear. He whispers something back, then stands as the guard rushes out. He grins at Jemini before standing. "Two of our esteemed guests from Brevoy have arrived. Please stand to greet them." The Council members and the gallery both stand to see whose visit Kesten has been hinting at. The door open to reveal a stunning beauty. Her auburn hair shines in the sunlight of summer, while her fair skin and red lips would entrance any man who looks upon her. As beautiful as Jemini is, her sister is an even rarer beauty. "Elanna Lebeda, sister of our own Lady Jemini Lebeda," Kesten announces with a broad grin. Elanna picks up the skirts of her lovely green dress to take graceful step in, and her smiles radiantly shines upon her beloved sister.

A handsome man follows behind, though he is eclipsed by Elanna. He has golden-yellow hair and a patrician nose, with a strong body and easy gait of confidence. His clothes, obviously of some quality, are still practical and well-designed for travel or combat. Kesten opens his mouth to announce the man, but he holds up a hand. "Thank you, but there's no need for formality. I'm Zander. Zander Orlovsky."

Berrin just glowers at Kesten for his obvious reprimand of him, crossing his arms and glaring though he remains silent through his obvious effort to regain a semblance of control over the council before it degrades into bickering. Nodding his assent at the appointment of General of the Armies he moves back and takes his seat at the table, the nomination only making sense in his mind. Meeting Akiros's eye he gives the former General a nod and resolving to speak to him after council, after all he'd raised the army, he'd know the men and Berrin needed to know what he was getting into.

Standing at Kesten's request to meet the visitors Berrin is equally take with her sister as the rest of the gathering, hearing the man introduce himself though, makes Berrin start. Turning to Zander he finds himself staring again.

Prior to the arrival
Verik's face is set in a dour grimace, looking on with obvious dislike at Kesten Garess as the clamor of the citizens in the gallery of the Founders Hall voice their approval. Verik, looking at himself as a stranger, would probably think the 'High Cleric' has eaten a mouthful of sour grapes over being upstaged by Kesten as voice of the Council. His thoughts, however, dwell on where this 'trial' by the mob and allowance of the Brevians to hold their carnival court. Politics. Phah! Much worse in a way than the trolls, as we eat up each other. I wish Tandlara was back, for we are blind. Blind, blind blind, and now I think I see Garess maneuvering the affairs of the Houses over us as just one more pawn in their tumultuous schemes. Has he ever been truly for Newhaven? Am I just becoming paranoid? I have no mind for these plans within plans...and now the ones I would trust have thrown themselves in with that savage...

Standing there, he contemplates another speech, another enforcement of what is Law and true Justice, unclouded by retribution or politics. But no, he is outnumbered, disregarded, and caught off-guard. Be patient Jarrow, work diligently and methodically. I must be patient, and gather allies to my cause, and prepare for stopping this travesty if it goes to far. For the preservation of Newhaven. But if I do, would I crack Newhaven like an egg? Would I destroy it to save an ideal? Don't know, too much I don't know...

With a start he realizes he must 'validate' the choice of the Council with Berrin and Akiros, and play his part. Well, he was hoping those two would see their strengths in this change and the sense of it, but it certainly the manner in which it was delivered did not go how he wanted. With a slight sigh he straightens his hat and clears his throat, even if his tone carries a slight hint of bitterness. "The Council has no objections then? The citizens of Newhaven voice their approval like a damnable Galtan mob and the Founders shall be recorded for their assent, with one abstention by Founder Esirrien noted.

Moving first to Berrin, he holds a hand aloft above his head and says in a loud voice, "The Founders recognize Berrin Myrdal once again, now bearing the title of Lord and Founder, Captain-General of the Armies and Militias of Newhaven, Protector of the Realm. May you defend Newhaven's borders, lands and people with all honor, ability and steadfastness that you possess." He pauses to give Berrin a pointed stare as if to say more, though it is not clear as to the intent, and then moves on to Akiros in the same fasion.

"The Founders recognize Akiros Ismort once again, now bearing the title of Lord and Founder, Praefectus-Marshal of the Laws and Customs of Newhaven, Baton of Justice, and also Captain of the Guard of Sanctuary until at such time that he appoints one to duty. I also submit that Marshal Ismort retains the standing rank of Lieutenant-General of the Armies and Militias, should he take the field in battle." Verik pauses and whispers as quietly as he can for him to hear, "Atonement and sentences are two different things, and for the former I can help you. You are needed here now more than ever, if this is to become more than another cautionary tale of history."

With the Arrivals
Verik once again looks at Kesten, so neatly announcing the representatives with clear advanced knowledge of their arrival. Other than nodding and standing the customary amount of time for noble dignitaries, he says nothing, his face purposely impassive. The announcement of Zander Orlovsky, however, causes an eyebrow to raise, stirring shadowy memories in his mind from travels over a year ago.

"Elanna!" Kesten has barely time to introduce the new arrivals when Jemini is already a flash heading towards her sister. She almost throws herself at her, but realizes just in time that her sister would have trouble holding her - instead she steps lightly to the side just as they would collide, turning the collision into a spinning embrace instead. "Elanna! Why? Father hasn't sent me --" she turns, her eyes beaming with joy, "Kesten! You sly old fox you! What have you arranged while we were gone?" She doesn't even wait to hear a response, her attention back on her sister, "Please say you will stay awhile? It's been... why its been years!" She's laughing and crying at the same time, clearly moved at the unexpected appearance of the sister she adores.

Suddenly she realizes that there was another, she turns to the man introduced as Zander Orlovsky. She stares, albeit politely. Tentatively she holds out her hand. "Have... we met?"

Elanna hugs Jemini with a great deal of affection. "Oh, my sister, I was afraid that we had lost you forever! We received word soon after you were brought back to us. Father desperately wanted to be here, but Noleski - the King - beckoned him and the other Lords to the city. I was more than happy to come in his stead, and I asked Kesten Garess to keep my imminent arrival a secret." She smiles upon the others, breaking away reluctantly from her sister to be formally introduced to each in turn.

The man who calls himself Zander Orlovsky politely takes her hand with a smile, bringing it to his lips in a very noble gesture. He smiles at her with a warm and pleasant expression. He stares at her as if looking at a beautiful sculpture, seemingly lost in her own gaze. "Yes, I'm told that we have. As I understand it, before my accident, you and I were engaged to be wed by our parents. My father, Lord Poul Orlovsky, sought an alliance with your family that we were to seal. The day that we were to meet, however, there was a terrible fire in the inn that your family was staying at. I was badly burned and spent years in recovery. I'm afraid I remember little about the fire and the years before it. In a way, this is indeed our first meeting. I am quite pleased to make your acquaintance, though the context is quite different than how we would know one another had I not been injured."

Jemini's memory turns into a rollercoaster as she assembles and re-assembles her memory of Zander and the man before her. Her suspicions so long ago when she confronted Zander have not been cleared. The issue never got resolved to her satisfation - and she puts considerable stock in Berrin's from back then, owing to her opinion that Berrin is the only member of their party without an agenda.

A mixture of wary puzzlement crosses her face. "Then... how fare your memories of more recent times? I was at your funeral..."

Zander is a man. He cannot help but notice the young woman enter the hall. He all but ignores the young nobleman. That bearing and station was something he left long ago. It was not until he announced himself that the stag helm turned its full attention to him.

His mind swims, first thinking of more shapeshifters, but then the truth dawns on him, this was in fact Zander Orlovsky. FATHER! Is this your solution? A handsome face in exchange for a ruined one?

He is a bit unsteady on his feet. His first thought is to leave, to get clear. Not to be drawn back to his father's plots and schemes. If this jackanape wants to play the nobleman, let him. He even takes a step or two in the direction of the door. But something stops him....This is Father's plan, and for that reason alone I need to stick around and see that it is overturned. But how? Who wants a burned Zander when the new Zander is here to make everyone feel comfortable.

Feeling like ice water trickling down his back, Zander follows Jemini to the new pair and watches as the sisters greet. Hundreds of retorts racing through his mind, none come to his tongue as he hears 'the Zander's' story. Then it dawns on him, He might not even know. Father could have groomed him long enough that he truly believes he is the Orlovsky heir. And anyway...who will believe the cripple over THIS. Up close, Zander can see that Father chose well for his fake son. The man easily commanded the attention of both Jemini and her sister. Suddenly Zander felt like he should have fled rather than face this man.

When he turns to acknowledge his arrival, Zander offers his hand the nobleman giving it a firm but not overly aggressive squeeze. In a grufff, emotionless voice, "Well, we are a group to believe in second chances, Jemini. Leave it to me to welcome the fellow Zander to our meager hall. I am the Warden here....Zander Whitestag they call me. But the ....oh this helm is a bit much." All the retorts, the quickly planned scenarios, even the loudly proclaimed duel, all fell away as he politely shook the hand. All Zander sees is his father, sneering at him, telling him he is not good enough to be his son.

Zander has the momentary urge to show his face, his true face, from underneath the helm....to show his father and shake his creation...but Jemini's sister is right there and he would regret the shock that might deliver to her. Instead he lifts it off and places it under one arm, exposing his not quite normal face, but Zander puts extra concentration into trying to present a 'better' visage. And all he can muster is the inane comment, "I am glad to see you overcame any such injuries a funeral might inflict." Stupid, Stupid, Stupid

Diplomacy(or Bluff) to make a strong-jawed attempt at trying to mask the flood of emotions racing through him. -> 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (20) - 2 = 18

When Zander shakes hands with the man who replaced him, their eyes meet for a moment. A few voices murmur in the crowd, mentioning the resemblance to each other. They could, in fact, be brothers. Zander Orlovsky's eyes are a lighter shade of blue and his hair is a bit more golden, but they have more similarities than most. When their eyes meet, Zander sees no deception, no flash of recognition or shock - though he could certainly be wrong, especially with his middling skill at reading others borne from his lack of interaction with most over the long years of his solitude, he feels more strongly that this man knows nothing of his - their? - father's deception. Orlovsky seems genuinely pleased to meet him. "What are the odds that we share a name? We shall have to go call ourselves 'Orlovsky' and 'Whitestag' to ensure no mix-ups," he says with a grin. "Though I think that huge helm should differentiate us enough."

He turns back to Jemini, his smile radiant upon her face. He makes a shrugging motion to answer her question. "Frankly, there's not much that I recall from the period. My memory's hardly more than a haze, really. The fire burned both my body and my mind beyond recognition, as I'm told. I spent years recuperating. My father told everyone that I had died to prevent anyone from discovering where I was, while he brought experts from all over the world to try to heal me. No one will say what medicine it was that worked, but Archbanker Vinodragov himself examined me afterwards and declared me to be as healthy in body and mind as I was prior to the fire. It's been over a year and a half since I returned. My father kept it quiet until recently while I readjusted and re-learned what I had forgotten. It all came back quite naturally to me, I'm happy to say."

A gray-haired man with steel eyes as cold as the heart of winter walks up behind Zander Orlovsky. His eyes lock with Akiros for a moment, sending a shock through the former General's spine. Akiros does not know the man, but knows the type of man underneath: cold and merciless, with eyes as devoid of emotion as a shark. He may not be armed and dressed as a mere servant, but he looks as deadly as any master swordsman of the Swordpact. He leans up towards Orlovsky and speaks. "My Lord, let us speak of happier things. Shall you tell them of your plans for this evening?"

Orlovsky claps his hands with another grin. "Thank you, Felex. You are absolutely correct. I am proud to announce, as a gift from my father, that we will host a feast here. We have brought food, wine, and entertainers from Brevoy, as well as the funds to hire the good men and women of Newhaven for the remainder of our needs!" There is excited clapping from the gallery. While many of them will more likely be serving than eating, a festival like this will lift their spirits immensely - as will the Brevic coin in their pockets. "I have but one thing to ask," he says with a dramatic pause. He smiles at Jemini, almost contagious with its earnest, unpracticed charm. "I beg a dance from Lady Jemini."

Verik watches the exchange between the Zanders, his brow furrowed in thought as he stands with the others. Two Zanders, one noble and one not, both burned by fire...or at least was burned...a strange coincidence of note. Hmmm...and Vinodragov at the heart of this young nobleman's restoration. Blast but that puffed-up Archbanker does seem to get everywhere in Brevoy for their great Houses doesn't he...amazing that there are even any Bankers to speak of in their cities with the way he carries on...alright Jarrow now you're just being petty! Time to continue the work.

Smiling but politely turning away from the talk of gifts and dancing, he gestures to his young clerk-cleric Anya Amitel to approach him, who was attempting to collect and stack parchment and tomes as unobtrusively as possible. She nervously approaches him, and he whispers to her in hushed tones as if to give instruction, but his eyes do not blink or waver as he stares at her intently.

Turning back to the others, Verik puts on his best air of diplomacy and a smile touched with humor. "Indeed Lord Orlovsky, that is a steep and most precious price for a feast, grand as that may be, but you appear to be one to strike hard bargains, and in this endeavor I can find no fault. As Banker of Newhaven I welcome you to your negotiations in the upcoming dance."

To Elanna he says with a bow, "Lady Lebeda, it is truly a blessing to see the sisters reunited, and the sun rises most fair upon our realm with the joy of it. I welcome you - I must confess I had the privilege to meet with both your mother and father last year, and though circumstances were...less than ideal...I should request from you the honor of conveying a kind word or two on my behalf to the Lord and Lady when you see them next."

Though meant to be a bit of practiced and flowery talk, Verik cannot help but be reminded of his meeting with the Lebedas and how taken he was by their utmost grace, goodwill and strength of character, some of that true emotion carrying slightly into his voice. "Yes well then..." Getting soft Jarrow! You cannot fall slack-jawed to these nobles now like some wide-eyed...

Zander makes his excuses with a bow and a mumbled, "I must see to my duties." He risks a quick glance at the newcomers before turning away. But the iron cold look on the man's face was impossible to read.

Sense Motive on the bodyguard for any recognition -> 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

The surprise of seeing his replacement was nothing to seeing his Father's Man. The ice water on his spine froze solid. A simple challenge of the imposter just got that much harder and deadlier. Father's right hand is here to ensure nothing goes wrong. Zander...the true Zander, knows he will have to be careful when he ensures that in deed some thing will go wrong. But he needed time and air. He makes his way back to his chair, but the urge to leave the room becomes stronger, as if the room were on fire and he is sweating despite the chill he had felt. Barely a look at his fellow council members before he starts heading for the door.

Berrin clasps his hands behind his back as the pleasantries are exchanged, watching his friends bow and guffaw he has a smile plastered over his own face. Rolling on the balls of feet to his heels he bounces a few times through the process and offers a pleasant smile and an upraised nod to those who look his way.

Akiros is silent throughout most of the legal debate, for one, never having been, nor having much interest in, politicians and for another, never having had much interest in discussions of law. Furthermore, his attention is primarily turned within, as he tries to understand the strange sensations which have come over him.

At one point, feeling a heavy gaze upon him, he looks around the audience until he spots an almost familiar face. It takes him a few seconds to be sure, but there is no mistaking the intense glare of the young inquisitor.

Returning the stare for a moment Akiros thinks to himself 'There is something Not Right with that one. He is like an animal in the first stages of the foaming mouth disease. The madness has not fully come upon them as of yet, but it gazes out from deep within, waiting to be released, knowing its time will come. It also appears he feels that business is not quite finished between us. So be it.'

Just as his last thought is finished the general's vision goes blurry once again and this time, it is accompanied by a voice. And not just any voice, but a Voice, the otherworldliness of which he has heard before, a long long time ago "Do you See, Akiros?..."

"Wha..!" he cannot quite stop himself from exclaiming, rising out of his chair a little bit. Clenching his teeth firmly, he settles back down and surreptitiously looks around to see if anyone had caught his outburst. However it was clear it had been easily lost in the heat of the ongoing debate, none but Jhod seeming to even notice, and even that worthy only giving him the most cursory of glances.

'What the hell is wrong with me!' he yells in his mind. Ignoring and firmly clamping down on the answer, the knowing which has begun to rise within him, he rubs his eyes until his vision clears once again and pays closer attention to the discussion going on around him. And just in time as well, for at the moment it concerns him.

Listening to Verik's declaration and proclamation, his face once again set in stone, the no-longer-general answers where and when he is bidden, his thoughts inscrutable to all. 'And so that is the way of it then, is it? My reward for selfless duty, for raising the army and protecting Sanctuary from the most dire threat to yet befall it is to have my command stripped away and have it given to a clown, while I am demoted to second in command of my own army and given another title and duty simply because there is no one else to fill it. Verik tires to console me, yet it was his voice which delivered my sentence. So be it. I have given my oath and I shall do as I am bidden. This is my lot, this is my life. And in truth, what else do I deserve? What else is there, or should there be, for one such as me? A betrayer, a criminal, a murderer?'

Immediately upon his final thought does the Marshal's vision become obscured for the third time "Do you SEE, Akiros?"

'NO! No I do Not! I Will Not! Never again! Get out of my head! I have forsworn you! I am tainted! Blood is on my hands and always shall be! How could I ever again believe in Gods who would allow one such as I to live when so many innocent have died! By My hand! NO! GET OUT!' And this time, clenching his jaw once again, by seeming dint of willpower alone, Akiros forces his vision to clear, and after a few minutes, it does.

This time his vision clears just in time to see the stunning beauty as she enters the hall. As Jemini leaps out of her chair and rushes to her sister, Akiros immediately stands to honour such a Lady. Despite his dislike and distrust of nobles in general, this new one before him engenders no such feelings at present, just as her sister never did either. Looking back and forth between the two sisters the new Marshall cannot decide which is the more captivating. Elanna the more natural beauty or Jemeni, the warrior and more natural leader.

Despite his captivation though, seconds later Akiros is shocked out of his musings when the man behind her announces his name 'Zander...?' and he glances quickly towards the Warden. Not pretending to know or understand the mysteries and subtleties of what is transpiring, Akiros steps back into the position of observer. It is because of his attentive observation that he immediately sees, and knows the third man to enter. Knows him not by face or reputation, but by what he is, a killer. One trained to take life and more, one who delights in it. Or, even worse, one who feels no emotion in the taking of life at all. From that moment on, his eyes never leave the man, taking in every detail he can about him. To Akiros, despite his new formal position, or perhaps even the more because of it, this town, these people, were his to protect. And a predator, dressed in sheep's clothing, had just entered their midst.

Such is his focus that he completely forgets about introducing himself to the nobles, and, in truth, it wouldn't have bothered him much evenhad he realized his breach of protocol.

Taisper continues to stay out of things, observing as much of all the goings-on as he can from his spot in the gallery. It's a bit much for the youngster to take in, though; Verik and his young charge, the nobles, Zander...so much happening and so little of it making any sense. Obviously, he had homework to do.

With the socializing, announcements, and reunions, there is little hope that the Council will further any more on the agenda today. Oleg moves to dismiss, and Svetlana seconds the motion. The people of Sanctuary head to their shops to industriously prepare all they can for Orlovsky's feast. Servants of the scion of House Orlovsky start placing orders, sending the city into a happy rush of activity. The announcement comes out that the feast will begin at dusk, giving everyone the rest of the day to prepare.

Elanna Lebeda takes her sister to Jemini's room (still not very lived in, having only been back a few weeks) in a fit of laughter and happiness. The elder sister's good nature makes happiness contagious. Jemini's thoughts wander back to what she saw on the spire to Pharasma's court and the happy memories of Elanna in them. They catch up quickly on the comings and goings of the last year in their household - their parents' grief at her death, disappointment in her failed resurrection, and joy in her return. Elanna tells her of the gossip in New Stetven, where she spends most of her time. It seems that Jemini's sacrifice on the field of battle rippled into the consciousness of the city. The young women of the city now favor trousered pants and petition their parents for sword lessons. After filling her in on a few minor scandals, Elanna's face darkens. "Jemini, I have a favor to ask of you. It is a great weight on my shoulders that I have no right to ask you to bear, but I am afraid that I must."

Berrin rushes out as fast as he can, almost skipping with the weight of rule now lifted from him. While he might not get much enjoyment from the social aspect of the upcoming feast, at least he can look forward to the food. Perhaps he could hunt some of Bokken's ale as well! Thoughts of the succulence in his future distract him all the way back to his quarters in the castle. As he opens his door, Reggie yelps happily and rushes past him into the room.

"You wouldn't know where I could find this Lady Jemini? You see, I'm supposed to be the Steward's mistress, and seeing as she's in charge now..." The sultry voice that greets him is filled with mirth, and is the only one he has been waiting to hear. Berrin rushes forward and takes Emma into his arms. She almost purrs in pleasure as he holds her in his strong arms. "Well, I suppose I could be persuaded to be with the General instead..."

Verik returns to the library that serves as Newhaven's main Bank of Abadar in a huff. That meeting did not go as planned, least of all thanks to his own clerk. Young Anya Amitel paces in the library, nervously tucking her brown hair behind her ear repeatedly. As soon as Verik enters, she launches into a defense of her actions. "Banker, it was a lawful petition! The widow Flaxton requested that I file it under seal. It was signed and stamped with the seal of Brevoy's Archbanker, and she came with sufficient payment. I checked the books for any precedent or loophole, but I could not find one. That is my only sin!" She hands him the scroll that contains the order, which he examines carefully. Regrettably, her assessment is correct. On its face, the order is essentially ironclad in its command to the recipient and impeccable in its logic as to Nikolai Rogarvia's culpability extending past death. It even provides a precedent from over 600 years ago: the case of an Abadarian heretic hung and consumed by fire, only to be later raised in a diabolic deal. His sentence was re-established ad infinitum. The research was clearly meticulously performed, and the clear superiority of his counterpart's research resources shows itself. The order is binding by precedent, despite the normal independence of the Banks. The signature and seal at the bottom show him all that he needs: Archbanker Vinodragov.

Taisper watches from the galley as Grigori slips out quietly. The trouble-stirring provacateur exits into the courtyard, only to have the young Inquisitor follow him silently. He is about to make it out the door to stalk his Prey when Ilyana Flaxton stops him by putting her hand on his shoulder. Her soft touch sends electric chills through his body. "I'm sorry, Taisper. I didn't want to put you in that position. I know that you hate him, and that you have a history, but he came to me. I didn't know that I had any ability to get any justice for Nick. When I first saw that the Stag Lord was back that day in the courtyard, I was scared at first, then angry. What right has he got to be alive? My boy will grow up and forget his father, and that monster gets to live as if nothing happened? Please, I need you to understand."

As Zander makes his way out, he finds himself wandering aimlessly. After a few minutes lost in his own bitter, poisonous thoughts, he arrives at the room they have set up for the sleeping Tandlara. He opens the door, past the guard they have set outside the door, and sits by her side. Wordlessly, he wishes that the elf return to him. He misses her strange comfort and ancient wisdom. The elf was one of the few other than Lorek who treated him with dignity despite his injuries. The others might tolerate or pity him for his injuries, but Tandlara was - is- different.

Jhod Kavken knocks on the doorframe and enters unbidden. Zander glares up at him but says nothing. Jhod looks upon Tandlara for a moment, then addresses Zander. "You seem upset. Care to talk about it?"

Akiros rubs his eyes, but they remain pained. He hears others talking amongst themselves, but cannot make much sense of it. He suddenly recalls the sickness that took him on the night that he slew Malgorzata. It was a sudden and mysterious ailment, as much mental and spiritual as it was physical. Still, once the scales fell from his eyes about the doppelganger and his passing madness left him, it passed. Now, the ailment has returned.

Akiros stands and excuses himself with mumbled words. He wipes the sweat from his brow as he exits and makes his way up the stairs. He makes it through the threshold of his room just as his legs give out, barely getting the door closed as he collapses. His head raps against the wooden floor with a thud. Blood spills out of the cut on his forehead onto the floor. As darkness takes him, the last thing he sees is the shining symbol that Tandlara scribes weeks ago.

Go nuts with a dream sequence! Now with extra magic!

A bit earlier

Jemini momentary speechlessness gives way to an encouraging smile. "A dance? Certainly. And you shall find that although we have had but a scant year, that the produce here is of an exceptional calibre; our Bokken's distillery produces some of the finest liquor to grace your palette."

A bit later

Hand before her mouth, Jemini bursts into laughter as Elanna tells of the Qadiran ambassador's most recent social faux pas. "I almost begin to suspect he's doing it on purpose," she amends, "I wouldn't put it passed him at all - Father speaks highly of his savvy as a trader."

Upon hearing Elanna's question, "Of course! I could never deny you a request, you know that Elanna."

Elanna takes Jemini's hand and sits on the side of her bed. "What I am about to tell you must stay in this room." She takes a moment to gather her composure. "The return of House Rogarvia has Father and the rest of the Lords in a very tight predicament. For now, I believe that their goal will be to avoid taking a stand on his legitimacy. Should he demand it, the throne is lawfully his. However, Noleski can just deny his request by denying his legitimacy - and would that not be for the best? Nikolai Rogarvia has no army to speak of, no way of preventing Lord Orlovsky from seizing the throne himself. His actions could easily spark a civil war, which Father obviously wants to avoid."

"There is more, however. Before I left, he called me into his quarters. He instructed me that if we are to avoid this crisis, Nikolai Rogarvia needs the protection of our House. Should Lord Orlovsky make a point of demanding Noleski step down from the Dragonscale Throne, he could begin a civil war that would tear Brevoy in two. There is no way out of this, he said. If House Lebeda is to survive, if war is to be avoided, I must marry Nikolai Rogarvia." A tear wells in her eye as she speaks. She wipes it away with the bank of her hand. "I cannot marry him. My heart aches to do its duty to our family, but I love another. Noleski..." She fades off, but it is clear to Jemini what she means. She is in love with King Noleski Surtova, Regent of the Dragonscale Throne, despite what this means for her family. Their father would never stand for her marrying a Surtova.

When my man James sez a post is all-caps LONG, you best believe he means it. Gonna go get a fresh cup of coffee before I dive into this one... :-)

Verik re-reads the petition and its basis in law a second time, his face taking on an ever-increasing frown. Then he reads it a third time. He scrutinizes the signature carefully, but knows it to be true and correct. The supporting case of precedence is unknown to him, but carries an authenticity in its detail that cannot be dismissed. His frown deepens even as he moves from his well crafted writing desk in the study towards the "library" room, looking for whatever few tomes he has collected on the histories of specific notable trials under Abadarian-sanctioned law, but knowing nothing in his collection goes back that far in any detail.

As Anya starts up again about her innocence Verik irritably snaps, "Anya sit down!" Almost immediately his face blanches, as he knows too well what her past entailed with abusive men, and did not want to remind her of that time if he could prevent it. "Anya, please sit. I do have ears the last time I checked and have not completely become wits-addled, so you do not need to reiterate your pleas to me. Sit...and stop fidgeting! You remind me of a loose fish in the bottom of the boat when you do that with your hands."

Returning momentarily with a tome he thumbs through several sections, but can find no mention of the case six centuries prior, though that does not really surprise him. My collection is paltry and inadequate, but no matter...he would not lie and fabricate something like this knowing it could be substantiated. Hmmm...the sentence of transference of poena ad infinitum is not a perfect match as this is not heresy within the bounds of the church, nor is it treason, but it IS precedence of a sort, and enough to keep me from dismissing it out-of-hand. Which he knew of course. Blast him! He knew my reaction too before I did, didn't he? Everywhere again it seems and three steps ahead, yet somehow linked also to that snake Grigori if the bard put Ilyana up to it. I need more information on both, but how to start?

With an audible sigh he closes the unhelpful tome and looks over at Anya in her chair, awaiting his judgment of her actions. "Anya, I am still irked with you over today, but I now see that you were placed in an uncomfortable quandary with this...orderly petition and related instructions. You have committed no sin or conscious error to this Bank, and so I apologize - even a Banker or an Archbanker must admit when he has acted in hasty error after all, as there is no room for adverse pride or hubris in the service to the Master."

He holds up a hand in cautionary warning. "But know this Anya, by not informing me of the existence of this order beforehand, I fear you unintentionally aided the cause of anarchy with this, or at least helped along those that would do ill to Newhaven. What is Right is not always Law, and that is a hard truth to face despite our training, but while I am Banker we shall always strive to do both in equal measure. From now on in all matters from...external sources...no matter how legitimate or weighty they may seem, you must inform me immediately. There is no violation if the seal is not broken. I do not expect you to understand why, but I ask that you trust and obey me in this, as long as I am the lawfully appointed Banker of Newhaven." With a deep breath and the return of a slight encouraging smile upon his face he adds, "Now your penance is simply this - go get the others and bring them to my study - especially young Petyr, for I have need of his...abilities of the street to locate those whom normally would not tread voluntarily into the Bank. Now go quickly please."

"Don't mind me." Berrin mutters with his face buried into Emma's hair as he nuzzles her neck and carries her toward his bed. "I'll just slip quietly into the night so's you can be free to pursue your destiny Emma, Gods know I'd never stand in the way of such a union. You and Jem, huh? You know it's not nice not to invite me along!" he mocks, collapsing on top of her in a bout of laughter and giggles. Berrin and Emma roll over a few times in mock battle on the bed with Emma ending on top, pinning a grinning Berrin to the bed.

Looking into those eyes relief washes over Berrin, stress and frustration seem to wash off him as her large brown eyes lock his and Berrin is, for the moment, free from worry. "Gods! I missed you." he says with a sigh. Gathering himself he easily rises up from under her weight and, gently gathering her up in his arms and brushing Reggie away with a boot, lays her back on the bed and kisses her deeply.

Jemini takes Elanna in her embrace, consoling her with sibling bonds. Carefully she brushes away Elanna's tears with her cheek. "The houses are fast to move, as ever. I cannot speak for Nikolai, but he doesn't strike me as the man who wants to demand a throne for himself - no, if he'll seek a crown, it would be through conquest. But..." there's a rueful smile, "while the houses are playing their elaborate games - I've actually brought Nikolai back for a reason. There's more afoot than a struggle for dominance - Brevoy itself is in danger. Unfortunately nobody sees or knows what Nikolai and I have; and the distant threat is easily ignored by most."

She stands up Elanna and herself, kissing her sister she adds, "We can hold out for love. A civil war will ruin not just the houses, but Brevoy itself - only united will we be able to face the Conqueror. So," she smiles, "we'll both do everything we can to prevent such a war, and in doing so, we both get what we want."

There's a sparkle in Jemini's eyes, "Now, I know you, you wouldn't be here like this if you didn't have a plan - let me in on it!"

Anya exist their small library with an awkward bow. Verik, knowing the girl as well as he does, can plainly see that she is devastated by even the hint of his displeasure. As she exits, he wonders to himself why he would think of her as a girl - she is, after all, almost the same age as he is. Perhaps it is her innocence and naivete, though he knows that she has seen much of the world's terrible truths that he knows that neither word should describe her. And yet they do. Anya remains as irrepressibly hopeful and hard-working. Though she is new to being a clerk of Abadar, she has taken to it with a cheerful zeal - when she is not being chastised by Newhaven's Banker.

Petyr, the youngest of his clerks, rushes in after being fetched. Anya leaves without another word to get the others, though Petyr's eyes linger upon her. The young man's feelings for the girl (again calling her that, Verik notes) are clear and plain. She is comely, in a homespun sort of way, but her infectious playfulness (as rare as her smiles are whiled focused on her work) clearly has entrapped his heart. For her part, Verik has noted, she has not seemed to return young Petyr's feelings, much to his devastation.

The young man stands quietly, apparently primed for his own reaming. He looks angry, even defiant, but speaks through gritted teeth. "Enlightened Father, you wanted to see me?"

Berrin and Emma, as usual, are not shy about their liaison. Reggie sits outside their door, looking back at it worriedly from time to time after his unceremonious ejection. A pair of the guards exchange knowing glances as they patrol the castle, one of them bending to give a small scrap of meat to the thylacine. Reggie tears into it with abandon (much like his master inside the room), then returns to his guard post.

Elanna's face falls when Jemini seems to minimize her concerns. "Sister, please, I beg you to reconsider. The other Houses will jockey for his attentions. Should they be unable to sway him to join them, do you believe that Lord Orlovsky would hesitate to remove him? What protections does he enjoy now? None. He has no House to avenge him, no armies to protect him. What's more, Natala Surtova will be here in a matter of days to propose marriage of their houses." This is most unexpected news. Natala Surtova, the sister of the King, has rebuffed marriage offers from almost every House, great and small. A severe beauty known for her shrewd cunning and political skills, many in Brevoy consider her to be as much the monarch as her brother.

"I wish that there were another way to forestall this. The reappearance of House Rogarvia has begun a process that I fear will not stop. Should he marry Natala, Lord Orlovsky will lose any hope to gain the throne in any way except brute force - and he has the strength and alliances to do so, or bring the kingdom down trying. Orlovsky has no daughters, no offering from his line to seal any alliance." She ticks away at the reasons on her fingers one by one. "Were he to marry Nadia Lodovka, that whore, Orlovsky's reaction would be the same. House Medyved and Garess have no daughters to offer him. We are all that remain. If he marries one of us, the strength of our House can protect him. Only by marriage to our family can we avoid calamity."

She presses onward to her sister, earnestly pleading her case to Jemini. "He trusts you. You could explain why it is in his best interests. If you do not love him, make it a marriage of convenience. Please, take this cup from me. I know that I could convince Father to allow Noleski and I to marry, to tie our three Houses together to avoid Poul Orlovsky from bringing the entire nation down in his quest for power. That is my plan. In two marriages, the safety of our nation is guaranteed."

Zander eye's Jhod questioningly for a moment before returning his attention to Talandra. "She has been my confessor for many months. And yet with her in this condition, one would think telling her anything and everything would be easier...but it is not. She could listen so well with her eyes...with them closed, it is like she is closed to me and the world."

He looks up again at the priest and nods him into the chair on the other side of the bed. [b]"It will be good for another member of the Council to know this...Talandra of course does, but her wisdom is lost to me. I could confide in those I travel with, but I am leery of the reaction it may cause and in a way embarrassed by the whole thing." He realizes h has not told Jhod anything, and yet he remains passively awaiting Zander to eventually get to his point. Seeing that patience puts Zander further at ease.

In a calm voice that denotes no sense of alarm. "We have another imposter in the city...only this time, it seems it is me." Seeing that at last get a rise out of Jhod's eyebrows, Zander takes Taladra's hand as he continues. "It was no coincidence that there were two Zanders at today's court...for it seems we are both Zander Orlovsky."

Jhod leans over and takes Taladra's other hand allowing that connection to help the young man continue this intriguing tale. "Please continue. You seem that I should not be alarmed by this, especially after our recent troubles..and I am not, but please explain."

Zander continues, "This much I know, I was born Zander Orlovsky, although it has been many years since I used that name. So many years in fact, that it seems my father has raised an imposter in my place. For you see, that story of the accident is true. But the Orlovsky heir did not miraculously awaken a young handsome lord to be paraded around with the most eligible young maidens on his arm. Zander Orlovsky underwent painful magics and alchemical treatments that left him still too disfigured for a father to proudly hold up before him as his heir, and thus disowned and abandoned, all he was left with are his memories of a once happy childhood and this face...a face too hideous for a family's love." Zander pulls the headband slowly off his brow, allowing the magics to slowly ripple and fade across his face like a receding tide, leaving the horribly scarred visage that was his face. He does not look directly at the priest, allowing him time to gather his tact. He did not mean to shock or challenge him, merely include him in on the truth...plus Zander did not want to see another look of revulsion, he would much prefer Jhod composed reaction than an initial shock.

Continuing to look at Talandra, "She is the only one who ever saw any beauty in my face...either that or she is a very good liar." Zander chuckles slightly.

He finally looks up at the priest's face and slowly replaces the headband. "So you can see why I was so disturbed earlier. I had come to grips with being abandoned and forgotten...I had moved on from that. But to then come face to face with a copy of myself...a copy I think is unaware of the switch...Looking him in the eye, I can see that he truly believes he is the luckiest sonofab%~@& to wake up from a blazing inferno to be looking like he does.....WELL, THE WORLD DOESN'T WORK LIKE THAT!. Zander looks down embarrassed at his outburst and sees that he had been squeezing Talandra's hand way too tight.

"So, you see. My companions know I suffered in a fire, but not who I truly am, as Jemini said, my father buried my legacy many years ago...I had assumed it safely buried. But to have this imposter arrive on our doorstep I feel only means trouble. My father is a driven man. To go through the effort to resurrect me in name, he intends to use this puppet.....for what means we can only guess, but it will be big. For as secretive as my father is, the man that accompanies my double, is the one responsible for seeing my father's will done...no matter what the cost....or pain. He is a dangerous man, and the main reason I was hesitant to cause a scene. I have hopes of discovering and foiling my father's plans before anyone needs to get hurt. I am not scared for my safety, but I can only assume that if my identity become known to this man, my father's will be done to try to see me quieted forever, and placed in that empty grave he dug for my year's ago."

As for foiling this plan, all I have are my scars and my memories. What good will they be against that face and my own family who will condemn me as the imposter."

Zander deflates with the conclusion of his confession. He continues to caress his friend's hand, encouraging blood back in to where he had constricted to hard.

Will save vs. "electric touches": 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12 Well then. That's obviously a failure.

Once again, all of Taisper's big talk (or "talk", since he was just thinking it) falls uselessly by the wayside, crumbled dark before the light that is this straightforward, caring, good-hearted person. Ilyana. Master Hunter Valentine (whose name, Taisper has since realized, was not only not his real name, but was in fact a sort of joke) warned all the Hunting School recruits about what the "fairer sex" could do to them if they weren't strong, weren't pure. He spun yarns about mighty inquisitors brought low by fluttering eyelashes, elegantly cantilevered decolletage, and skin like silk. Taisper remembers scoffing at those tales, even as Valentine told him he knew the boys would scoff, and knew that despite his warnings they'd have to learn the hard way, like all men did. To Taisper's thinking, the girls he knew were all warriors just like him; pious and powerful, strong and capable, so where could these other creatures come from? Wouldn't all girls be similar to the ones he knew in Hunting School? Why would a woman trade a chance to be a warrior, to be strong and free and brave, for corsets and too-tight shoes and other constraints? It made no sense.

It didn't take long for him to learn the truth of things, to learn there were many other kinds of bravery than those he knew, and much softer weapons than swords and maces that could be far more devastating when wielded correctly. These were ancient lessons that he, like all boys, thought wouldn't apply to him, but also like all boys, learned the opposite was true.

Taisper's own laconic and golden good looks earned him favor here and there, and enough preferential treatment from the women he met that he had the luxury of maintaining an arm's-length and fraternal sort of relationship with most of them. His heart had never been involved before, and he is rapidly learning that therein lies an enormous difference. When Ilyana is around, the Voice is silent and his mind is simply a white-hot space of heavenly light. His pulse quickens and he is only barely able to run on instinct. Worse, as much as he hates this reaction in himself, this weakness, he finds that he wants it, that he in some desperate and longing part of his soul was hoping Ilyana would seek him out, because he wants this feeling even as he loathes himself for every minute he is afforded this heart's extravagance.

In the emptiness of his mind, he wonders; what magic is this?. He also understands with bittersweet completeness the sad task MH Valentine had before him.

Gathering what's left of his wits, Taisper breathes deeply and lets his eyes relax to a sleepy and half-lidded gaze, trying desperately to not let on how deeply the Widow Flaxton affects him. God, what would she do if she knew? How horrified would she be? I would lose her friendship instantly. What a ghoul she would think me, lurking around, harboring these...feelings for her when I was there when her husband died.

Bluff (with Blessed Infiltration, 1/3) to remain nonchalant and charming: 1d20 + 15 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 15 + 1 = 29 vs. 1d20 + 15 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 15 + 1 = 18 -- So, Bluff of 29

"Ilyana. Hey." He starts out, honestly astonished at his own smoothness and nonchalance. "Hey, it's okay. I understand. I don't personally have any feelings about the Stag Lord, you know? If you feel this is the right thing to do, then that's fine. I gotta ask, though, how is it you came across Grigori, exactly? I mean, does he live somewhere in town, or did he pay a visit?" The thought of that sausage-fingered, foul-breath'd, faithless double-talker visiting Ilyana makes Taisper's blood boil, but he keeps control of himself and instead gives Ilyana a lazy smile. "I don't know that I necessarily hate Grigori, though I reckon we won't be going for coffee anytime soon. Though, to be fair, I did offer to buy him a drink, and it was he who refused..." He shakes his head. "But yeah, I'm not upset at all. Just curious, I guess. I didn't know he'd taken up residence around here, and was known as a guy people could approach with their troubles, or for help with the law and other counsel...?" Taisper leaves the question hanging in the air between them.

Bluff (with Blessed Infiltration, 2/3) to lie: 1d20 + 15 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 15 + 1 = 34 vs. 1d20 + 15 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 15 + 1 = 21 -- So, Bluff of 34

Jhod takes in Zander's story with surprising grace and rapt attention. The cleric, with his thinning hair and grizzled mustache, takes on a paternal look to the young, scarred man. He places a hand on Zander's shoulder, measured and comforting. "We've all got regrets, and this world ain't fair. You've told me who you are, so let me tell you who I am. I was born in a small town in Mivon called Haelcim. We worship Erastil there, through and through, which some might call the old ways. Mivon's not a great place - everyone's always jockeying for attention, and they decide just about everything by duels. Anyhow, I was the town's priest. A few years back, we had a half-dozen killings in the space of a few weeks, which started right about when we had a new visitor in town. These were brutal killings, downright feral. Our sheriff decided that they must be the work of a werewolf, and we went about checking out this new visitor." He stops for a moment, thinking to himself about his tortured past. Clearly, this is not a tale that he is used to telling. "He was staying as a lodger in what passed for the town's inn. Me and the sheriff, along with a posse of deputies, went up to him and demanded that he come out. The man did, sure enough, and our men strung him up faster than I could say anything. Well, that's not true. I could have said something, but I didn't want to. I thought he was guilty. I knew all the people of the town, and ain't none of them werewolves. Anyhow, before you know it, he's swinging from a tree. We get to searching his bags, and it turns out that he's a damned spy for somebody with detailed writing on the town's defenses. Two for one, we tell ourselves."

"Not a few hours gone by before we get another killing, just as bad as the others. This time, though, the posse gets there before the killer's gone. It's a wolf, a big wolf with red eyes, that done the killing. They speared it, killed it dead, but that was it. We'd killed a man for something he didn't do. I packed my bags and left. I'd lost my authority by doin' what we did, and there wasn't nothing that could change that. Truth was, I blamed myself. I was blessed by Erastil with magic. It was my responsibility to use it to find the truth, and I didn't. So, off I went." He stares off into the distance as he finishes his story.

After a few long moments, he looks back to Zander. "What's the point of the story, you ask? It ain't to look for forgiveness or tell burden you with my past. No, it's to illustrate a point. This place is called Sanctuary. We got a second chance here. You may be Zander Orlovsky in birth, but what's that? I name given to you by another. It ain't nothing that you earned. Zander Whitestag, though. That's a name you earned. That's a name that means something beyond who your parents were. Maybe you'll get your original name again, kick out the impostor. Maybe you won't. But whatever name you go by, it'll be the one that you earned. I don't think of you as an exiled nobleman with a stolen birthright - I see you as a man who came from nothing to become the Warden of this place that means a second chance for us all."

Verik's eyes linger for a moment on Anya as she leaves and the young lad known as Petyr Mikhalia before him, now nearly about to see his fourteenth summer if he has the reckoning correct. Soon to be a man in some lands, still a boy in so many ways but aged beyond his years in others. Taking on an officious tone he gestures a hand to a nearby chair even as he dips a quill in the inkwell with the other. "Initiate Mikhalia, a seat if you please. We must work on your tone, improved as it is I must admit from the childish protests that you used to give me. Should I ask Clerk Quiss or Master Dakkone if you have given some cause to be defensive in your - no no don't answer that." Verik sighs and signs a letter with his usual flourish, reminding himself not to get distracted.

A period of silence follows as Verik reviews the letter and then rolls it up and seals it before continuing in a more familiar tone. "Petyr, you are the youngest of the four under my charge, but aside from Anya you have seen perhaps the most of how chaotic and malevolent men can be to each other on the streets, yes? That does not excuse you on what you must abide by here, but it gives you a unique perspective." With that, he asks for Petyr to keep a sharp eye out for any who would have the familiar "tells" of mannerisms of Abadar in town, as those with honest intentions should present themselves to the Banker upon arrival - and if they have not it could mean ill for them. Second and more urgently, he gives the sealed letter to Petyr and instructs him to use his "talents" to discreetly find the young orphan leaders of Tandlara's "crows" and give it to them directly, adding, "As their 'Mother Crow' is still ill and cannot attend to their needs, I am placing the Bank's services for food, clean water and treatment of ills to them as they require, with payment to be settled between she and I later after her full recovery. However - and Petyr this is most important - tell them that if they look for an opportunity to add ample coin to their pockets beyond these basic needs I have a task for them, but they must entreat with me here, directly and willingly. It is their choice. Can you do this for me?"

Standing in his room, Akiros allows some time for the weight of all the newness, all the change which has come upon him to settle within him. No longer was he Akiros the Ronin, godless guilt-ridden survivor of a tarnished past, no longer was he Akiros the General, leader of Newhaven's army and Saviour of Sanctuary. His new roles, as Oracle, as Marshall, as Captain, still felt strange and unwieldy to him, like a new suit of armor or a new weapon.

Thinking such causes him to glance over at his breastplate 'A general must needs to always go about in his armor. Yet must a Marshall or the Captain of the guard? For today at least, I think not.'

There was much to do, there were many details and items which needed his attention that came along with his new responsibilities. Yet he knew clearly where his first duty and responsibility lay. Strapping his sword and dagger, leaving his other weapons behind, steps towards the door, yet stops just before reaching it, the sight on the floor capturing his full attention. For there on the floor, where the blood from the bowl and his head wound had been, was an entirely differently shaped stain. Now the stain was in the unmistakable shape of a sword. There, on the floor, drawn in his blood, was the Shining Sword of Iomeade.

'And so I am marked in blood, my own blood, and declared to your service. So be it my Goddess. I See.' and, smiling slightly to himself, Akiros carefully steps over the symbol and opens the door to move into the hallway beyond. Yet there though he is stopped once again, this time by what he doesn't see. For within a certain distance, his vision was more clear than it had ever been, and more, the darkness, the shadows, seemed to hold no secrets from him. Yet beyond about 30', his vision became so cloudy he was effectively blind. In his room he barely noticed the change, but out here... 'This...will take some getting used to' the stoic warrior mused to himself. Mentally altering his first destination, Akiros walks down to the stables, his steps somewhat slow and unsure at first, but quickly gaining confidence. He nods politely to any who address him but does not engage in conversation.

Once at the stables Akiros moves swiftly to Kydal's stall, able to find it even should he have been completely blind. Unlatching the gate and stepping in to stall with the great warhorse, Akiros reaches up in a familiar gesture of greeting only to have the large steed flare his nostrils and shy away. Again stepping closer, his voice soothing and his emotions across their special bond calm and loving Akiros reaches up once again "Easy Kydal, I know my friend, I know. I am different, it is true. Yet I am still Me, perhaps more so than ever before. No calm, calm, Kydal, for I need your help old friend. And no, of course I did not forget,see?" this last said with a flourish and a smile as he pulled out the apple he had picked up and stuffed into his pocket on his way by the kitchens.

Taking the bribe, Kydal chomps the apple whole and steps closer to nuzzle his massive head against the head and shoulder of his beloved master. "Although I do not plan to leave the city this day my friend, we shall ride nevertheless as it is your eyes which I need most this day."

Leading Kydal out of the stall and declining the not-so-eager help of the stable hands, who were always nervous around the fierce warhorse anyway, Akiros has Kydal saddled and is up and riding Kydal out in almost no time. This time more mentally prepared, he does not let the still almost overwhelming shock of the incredible and disturbing shrinkage of his world stop him. Instead of the whole city of Sanctuary before him and the beautiful vista beyond, his entire world is shrunken to 30'. Bending down to whisper "To the barracks, Kydal" Akiros keeps his gaze locked on Kydal's head as he considers the ramifications of his new condition.

'How am I ever to again command men on the field of battle if cannot even see troop disposition? Or was this all a part of your Plan, Iomeade, knowing, perhaps even aiding? The councils decision to place Berrin as General over me? Very well, so be it, I am yours to do with as you will.' despite his acceptance though, he cannot help the pang which lances through him as he thinks 'But am I truly to never see another sunrise again?? Would that I had paid more attention to the last few I have seen, not knowing that they would be my last...'

His thoughts and feelings significantly less than happy ones at present, Akiros allows Kydal, who well knows the way, to take him to the barracks where he can address the men who once served under his command.

Just taking a pause here in case anyone has any interaction with Akiros in mind, otherwise he's going to speak to the soldiers at the barracks and then go to speak to the guardsmen and establish his new xommand

"Elanna, you're not making sense: Poul Orlovsky's hunger easily outstrips two marriages, he already knows that if he wants to sit atop the throne, he needs to surpass both House Surtova and House Lebeda along with their respective allies. Such a man won't stop at the inconvenience of wedlock - his designs would reach much further than that." Jemini tries to explain her point of view, "By marrying Nikolai, either you or I, we undermine the stability of Brevoy. The Stolen Lands are being tamed and a new nation is being built because of the mounting tension and threat of civil war. The intention is to have a third party present that can act to stabilize the two first parts. If Sanctuary allies itself too overtly with some of the great houses, then the purpose of its creation is forfeit."

"Hey! Akiros, wait up!" Akiros hears Berrin's voice holler as he makes his way to the barracks. Coming into view the newly appointed Captain-General rides up to his Lieutenant-General with a frown on his face as he draws abreast with him. Berrin is scrubbed and clean and smells of bathing salts, his hair is all in a thick tight braid that reaches down between his shoulder blades as, despite Emma's insistence, he still refuses to have it cut. His beard is trimmed, his breastplate polished but, by the look of him, Emma has had her way with his selection of clothing. Wearing a white shirt under his breastplate fastened by ornate bracers at his wrists he's donned a pair of deep blue trouser and black boots. His greatsword is on his back and a dagger by his waist Berrin is clean and be-jeweled as he sits his warhorse.

"Hey! What's the rush man? I thought we were riding out together? You, saying farewell and me sayin' 'Hello' an all that..." he groans half-heartedly as he draws abreast with Akiros. "S~~&, man!" Berrin's rambling abruptly. "What the hells happened to your eyes? I though Tandlara's curse was lifted? Is it coming back? Is it because he's in a coma?"

After finishing his conversation with Ilyana, Taisper makes a beeline for the library/main bank of Abadar, where he figures his cousin will be. As a member of the faith he enters freely after whispering a prayer on the threshold, then approaches the inner chambers and knocks politely.

"Verik! Cousin, are you in? I'd like a word, if you have a moment."

Easily recognizing the booming voice even before he can visually identify him, Akiros frowns slightly as Berrin rides up mentioning a missed appointment. 'Riding out together? I was not aware of any..' but then he recalls the man's odd sense of humour and forces a smile to the corner of his lips.

The small smile disappears an instant later though when Berrin asks and seems genuinely surprised and concerned about his eyes. ' My eyes...' Akiros thinks to himself as his left hand unconsciously brings itself halfway up to his face before he becomes aware of and is able to stop and bring it back down. 'I have not looked, or considered. But of course there must be some outward sign...'

Not quite ready to share all aspects of the changes come over him, and certainly not with Berrin, out loud he replies "Ah, yes, my eyes. Well...I can assure you it has nothing to do Tandlara. This...let us just say that I am not quite the same Akiros you saw yesterday. I have had a...reconciliation with my Goddess, something I would never have guessed would be possible. But I have been given new eyes with which to SEE and I suppose whatever you see on me is the physical result of that. Some things are much clearer than before, while others less so. For example, I find that darkness no longer bars my sight, yet I cannot perceive anything beyond ten paces or so. This is why Kydal is leading my way today." As he pets his beloved mount fondly.

[B]"Yet I am well Berrin, more well than I have ever perhaps been! And this is a glorious new day, is it not? But tell me, did you perchance see the Sunrise today? Was it beautiful?" at this question Akiros turns his face towards the sun, his pale blue eyes gazing unblinkingly straight into it. And while his tone seems wistful, a smile remains on his face.

"But never mind that, it is merely another lesson to always appreciate all we have. It is good you are here though Berrin, for a I ride now to the Barracks to address my...that is Your men one final time. Your being here will allow me to introduce you properly to them. Perhaps we can also discuss staffing. You have every right of course to appoint your own officers, yet those I have already in place are good men, and you would be well advised to keep them in their current positions."

As he switches topics to the army the smile leaves Akiros' face, yet he does not seem angry or disappointed, merely...determined to do his duty.

Verik is seated at his fine writing desk in the study, having just finished rolling up a note and handing a small pouch of coins to one of the young initiates by the name of Ethen Hoefurrow. "Now Ethen make sure you have all of the formal robes and hats before you go, and I've put extra silver in this time to ensure that Mistress Zilka gets ours washed and mended on priority, given the work she'll have with the impending guests to town. Hmm, you've grown some more too, so see if she can't adjust the hems of your robes if possible. When you return I'll need you to find Anya and assist with her scribing duties please." The young man bows and makes his way hastily to perform his next task, though he respectfully bows to Taisper on his way out.

"Ahh cousin! Yes yes I am quite "in" as you can tell and was hoping to send word to you before the sunset, so you have saved me both a trip and a note. Please come in. Tea? I have some decently fresh I believe...ahh shut the door if you would..." Verik rises from his desk and walks to a side table where a pot sits that still seems warm to the touch. He pours the tea and puts a dollop of honey in it, stirring briefly before returning and handing it to Taisper, adding slyly, "It is not often you come seeking me out, and I suspect you haven't come to request formal clerical robes for the banquet. What may I do for you?"

Taisper takes the tea gratefully and inhales the aroma. It's an awkward gesture; he clearly has no idea what he is doing, but is mimicking something he saw someone else do. He takes a sip and then sets the cup down.

"Thanks, Verik. I...heh, no I did not come to request formal robes, at a thing like that I'll be...incognito. Sort of." He shakes his head at something. "That...petition; it was completely legal? Everything was in order? Does it give a place of residence for anyone involved, like maybe...Grigori? I should very much like to pay him a, uh, visit." Taisper is clearly agitated, his eyes dancing all over the room and his left leg bouncing up and down. The young inquisitor gets excited sometimes, to be sure, but never anything like this.

'Crap! Him too!?' Berri is taken aback by Akiros's sudden display of piety. Everyone around him seemed steeped in religeon. 'Always so dramatic! Everyone's so bloody serious all the time!' "Err.. right." Berrin manages out loud. "Sun's in it's place buddy, ain't going nowhere, heh.."

Keeping pace with Akiro's Berrin studies his Lieutenant-General, noting his mannerism. "Hey buddy, you look a bit dazed there. You remember to eat breakfast? Don't want to appear sleepy before the men right?"

"Are we alright Akiros?" He continues hesitantly, studying the samurais reactions. "You know it's not meant as a slight me beeing made Captain-General, right? You know you an' your boys did a great job training them to fight, right? By what I've seen they look willin' an' eager, I reakon you should be proud. It's just I'm a veteran myself, trained to fight wars, not just battles, and those boys are going to war. They'll need to be able to set and break camp in their sleep, march a full day and then fight a battle before they get a rest, they'll need to know what it is to be cold, hungry and wet and still hold a sword the right way an' that's where I come in man."

"An' you know we'll be raising more troops right? You and your boys, you're the most experienced lieutenants and sergents Sanctuary has to offer. We're going to be needing you you know. I'm going to be needing you." Berrin eyes Akiros the whole time he's talking, trying to gauge the samurais reactions, half expecting him to spit in his face. Seeing no reactions from the stoic samurai Berrin reins Valnyr in.

When Akiros reins Kydal in to see why Berrin stopped Berrin hold Akiros's eye. "What I mean to say Akiros is thank you. Plain and simple. Thank you for offering me your lieutenants and sergents, thank you for training the boys, thank you for keeping New Haven safe while the rest of us scampered around the country side but most of all, thank you for beeing true."

"I know you don't think much of me Akiros, I've seen the scorn in your eyes when you look at me. But I need you to know that I know this is serious business and I mean to take it seriously. I've served in an army and it's ain't pretty. I mean to do those boys right. I mean to do New Haven right."

"Me an' the founders got that in common, that's why I name them friends. I know you share those sentiments with us, and that's why I'd like to name you friend as well." Berrin, now with his back straight and a frown on his face extends his hand to Akiros.

"I don't expect you to forgive and forget whatever grievence you think is between us, all I'm asking is for you to lay them aside and give me the chance to do right." he finishes and waits for Akiros to take his hand.

Verik replies in his typical businesslike tone to start with, but eventually falters under a tone of irritability. "Yes well I have given it a cursory examination and found some inconsistencies perhaps, but I have not had time for a full...examination...I...oh hells who am I fooling! Not you, and least of all myself."

"Here. Peruse it yourself, and note the signature on the related order." He walks back to his desk to pick up the petition and related instructions and hands them to Taisper before starting his pacing of the floor back and forth, his hands waving occasionally in emphasis of his exasperation. "You see? Our good fellow the Archbanker of Brevoy, his hands in the kitchen cauldron yet again! Only he seems to have made the soup and served it while I was still looking for turnips in an empty cupboard." He points a finger at the petition accusingly. "All proper and with enough of a precedent - albeit a stretch of one with heresy - to move this notion of a mock trial forward, or at least not enough for me to push for an early dismissal. He knew it Taisper, he KNEW it as if he had already seen my protestations and had ample time to counter. How could he know? Oh but one minor mistake is all I can pin my hopes on now, that of Ilyana revealing this 'goading' of that foul snake Grigori, his entrance well-planned in advance. She did say that he helped her, did she not? That means there must be a connection between Grigori and Vinodragov somehow."

Abruply he stops pacing, and appears to take a breath and collect himself a moment before he turns to his cousin. In a quieter tone and with all seriousness he adds, "Trolls and hags Taisper, but this manipulation by Grigori is as serious in a way, for I truly think that the man means to bring us down somehow and ruin Newhaven in the process. I have no grounds to arrest him, and he knows it. I...I cannot beat him in a debate of wits cousin, for I have no gift of impromptu strategy or great recall of memory. Oh I may be able to expose his lack of knowing our laws, but as you saw today in that sham of a Council meeting, no one really cares about the particulars, so it won't matter. We need to know more, to discover his true nature and his ties to whatever boots he licks. I am ill-suited for subterfuge, but I have sent Petyr to contacting Tandlara's orphans to see if they may help in this, though whether or not they will do so is unknown."

"Well Jhod, this land seems to draw those looking for a second chance, whether acts of good or Ill set them on their path. But the arrival of those doing my father's will "

Zander rubs at the rough scar tissue on his chin, "As the Warden and a bowman I have a deep respect for your faith. I would seem a likely convert, but it was a calling from Milani that drew me here. Up till now, it was not quite clear why. I assumed a revolution was much like fighting for a second chance...but now it perhaps becoming more clear. Change does need to happen. Plans of power are in motion that have set their talons ready to grab this new land we are creating or even all of Brevoy itself. So if I am to be the catalyst that throws down my father's plans of dominance, well than Milani could not have chosen her avatar more wisely. For I shall see to it that his plans burn up hotter than the forge's fire that created me as the instrument of his downfall."

While not nearly as skilled a lawyer as his cousin, Taisper is still an Abadarian and knowledgeable enough in matters of law to see that everything Verik has said is true; the clarity and purpose of the contract, the infallibility of the Archbanker's reasoning, and his hand pushing his pawn Grigori forward on the board.

Natural forces and ancient beings, monsters and men, the First World and the surrounding kingdoms. All of them around us, all of them after us. What have we done? What have we done but give people freedom and civilization? A chance at a better life?

Taisper sets the contract gently back down on the table. He closes his eyes and rubs his temples with one hand, then pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and rests his head on his hand in that position. Thoughts and memories tumble through his mind in a furious whirl, pieces seeking connection.

"...only 14, Sindelle, even for one of us that's too young to be kil- wait, someone's listeni-"

There is a map on the wall, there are stars and circles, a landbound constellation. The Master Hunters are speaking with a great Bishop from Absalom.
"...suicide, basically, your grace. None can..."
"...not going to send your little mad dog to my city, give him to..."

The approaching dark, the family with their backs turned, the clerics, the alley, the blood.

"Never again, ma'am, this is a unique opportunity for all of you!"

Just not ready for these exams, no way am I gonna...not ready...

"Taisper Stozs, on this the occasion of your graduation from the Hunting Academy of the Church of Abadar in the City-State of Alkenstar, at the young age of 19, with the highest marks in your class, we award you this key..."

"Not staying here, Stozs, you and your cousin are going..."

Orlivanch is on the ground. The man is Judged, the target helpless. It is Time.

"Taisper, no!" Jemini, Verik, falling, the Time, the Dark, the Dreams.

Now the kobolds. The gnomes. Cyclops. The Stag Lord returned. Nobles. Politics.

Taisper opens his eyes and looks back up at his cousin. He takes another sip of tea. We're sort of it, really. Everyone values this place, but how many are willing to do what it takes against these enemies? These heretics against the spread of new civilization, these violators of the laws we build in a free kingdom? Nibbling at our borders. I get it now. I know why me, and why here. I get it. You bastards. You sons of curs and whores. I know. Well let me show you. I am bound by law but Empowered to Judge you all. Mine is the cause and the way of righteousness. You bastards. This little land, this place of new beginnings. I thought. But I was wrong. So now I think. And I.

"Verik. I. There's. Hm." The inquisitor falters, then starts again, his face difficult to read. He is fiddling with a small phylactery pouch on his belt. "There's something I can tell you, something I can show you. We can help each other, but first I have to know something. I need you tell me where we stand. After I destroyed Orlivanch, you and Jemini said a lot of things in the weeks following. There was talk of letters, of trials. Now, lately things have been different, at least between you and I. More encouraging. But if I am to share with you what I can do, what I...what I am, I need to know this talk has ended, that the two of you are no longer colluding to bring about some internal investigation about my worthiness to be here. I need you to tell me you are done with that course. And Verik! Taisper's eyes flash gold and begin to glow. "...don't lie, because I'll know." This last is said not as a boast or threat, but with an almost resigned tone, as a statement of fact.

Activate detect lies class ability on Verik's next statement. I'm sure it's totally unnecessary, just doing it for the fluff and 'cos it paints a cool picture in my mind. :-)

@Taisper, earlier...

Ilyana answers Taisper's question without a moment's hesitation. "I was speaking to others in town about what the Stag Lord deserved for his crimes. Someone suggested that I send a letter to New Stetven to seek out Grigori. I knew him to be a man of justice, dedicated to standing up for those who cannot stand up for themselves. I was happy when he responded, and happier still when he treated my petition seriously." While Taisper's easy grin does not fade, a cold Fury builds inside him. He knows that she is not lying, but the words are too smooth and too easy. She is reading a script, one written by another. Ilyana is an unknowing pawn in this game. Whatever the actual circumstances of her meeting with Grigori, Taisper Knows that it did not occur as she believes it did. That, he knows, means that the Judged bard signed his own warrant by enchanting her mind. He stole her very will, and she stands before Taisper none the wiser.

Her voice fades back to him. She speaks in her Normal voice, a blessed relief. She smiles broadly at him. "I'm so glad! Nicky has really been looking forward to seeing you. I confess, Taisper, that I have as well. I'll have the chicken roasted in the afternoon, so be there right at sundown." He runs the conversation back in his mind. It seems that while he Plotted about Grigori, she had invited him to supper at her house and he had politely accepted.

@Verik, earlier...

Petyr nods, though it is with less animosity than before. Verik cannot tell the source of his attitude, whether mere teenage petulance or some darker motive. "Yes, Banker. It shall be done. Newhaven is my home, and I won't sit and watch it suffer." Without another word, he exits to fulfill his duty.

Wanted to give this response the time and attention it deserved. And, the war training Berrin's referring to is his time in the Red Stripe, right? Just checking.

Akiros' face remains an inscrutable mask as Berrin lurches through his speech. As Berrin sticks out his hand, Akiros briefly glances at the proffered limb and then his eyes flick back up to continue his in-depth study of the man before him. Several long, uncomfortable moments of silence pass as the Marshall keeps his thoughts to himself.

'Why do I have such contempt for this man? Yes, he often acts the fool, but from what I have seen, this behaviour has never truly diminished his competence or ability. I have seen him fight, and the man is indeed a deadly foe, or valuable ally, on the battlefield. And I have heard the rumors from the men of his time with the Red Stripe mercenary band.

So, here we are then. I do not have to always agree with this man, or his way of being. I do not even have to like him, but if I do intend to fulfill my duty, I do have to work with him. And he is right, he does deserve the chance to further prove himself. He has more than earned such.'

Finally though, before Berrin can drop his hand, Akiros leans forward slightly and grabs not Berrin's hand, but his forearm in a warrior's clasp. The grip, the bond, much stronger than a mere handshake could ever be. Staring directly into his eyes, his tone serious but sincere he says "There is no grievance between us Akiros. And if apologies are due, they are mine to make, and I ask your forgiveness. For I have judged you unjustly, Berrin. I have seen and taken your differences from me, your casual ways, as a sign of weakness, and this was unfair to you and improper of me. You have more than earned the chance to do more right for this city, this nation, for that is what you have continued to do for as long as I have known you. Though you may falter of course, as do we all, I see clearly now that your heart has always been in the right place Berrin, and you always strive to do right by those under your care, and those who stand by your side. I would be proud and honoured to be one of those who stands by your side Berrin. Moreover, you may count on me to lend whatever aid you need to make Newhaven's army into a fighting force which will trample all our enemies before them. Together, we will create and army to rival any these lands have ever seen before."

He then waits for Berrin's response and for him to break the grasp first.