| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
This wide chamber has an impressive vaulted ceiling. Though obscured in places by earth and undergrowth, the hall’s floor is crafted of smooth stone tiles in multicolored pastel hues. The walls of the chamber are decorated with faded frescoes of sylvan life, showing scenes of beautiful elves engaged in hunting, feasting, dancing, singing, and a bewildering variety of other idyllic pursuits. To the west, a graceful, filigreed stone staircase, garlanded with flowering vines, climbs to the level above.
The keep’s central tower is an elegant spire of ivory-colored stone, draped with a riot of vines and other plants. The most complete structure in the entire fortress, its 5-foot-thick walls climb 70 feet to a multi-pointed stone roof.
As Gavriil peers in, he notices faint lines etched on the ground at the opening. Someone has prepared a surprise for anyone entering the chamber...
|
As Gavriil peers in, he notices faint lines etched on the ground at the opening. Someone has prepared a surprise for anyone entering the chamber...
Edric follows Gav cautiously - well aware that this building is more than it seems. When Gav points out the marks on the floor he speaks in a low voice. "Some sort of pit trap or something else? We could try triggering it from a distance..."
"Thieves and swindlers, the lot, by all accounts."
By all means, utter sweeping generalisations against my heritage within my hearing, you inbred, sub-literate BORZHEMAL. A muscle twitches in Vosil's jaw as prudence wars with pride; aloud he says only "You'll have to trust that I knew what I was doing, and I believe the intelligence gained to be worth the risk." He keeps his tone of voice even. There's no sense in provoking anything.
He pauses. "I shall see you tomorrow. I advise inconspicuosity, if it can be achieved. There is no sense in provoking anything."
Talia's jaw drops as she sees the interior of the central tower. Eyes on the walls, the Viscountess walks forward, talking as she goes. "Now this is a keep. I think it would make a lovely summer pal-"
Bumping into Edric, Talia frowns as Fairhaven's general points out the pit trap. "Naralesh, perhaps we could send one of your minions in first? Perhaps that strange little creature has friends in here..."
"Unfortunately, I only have two more summoning spells prepared. I can use one if we need - but perhaps a large rock would be easier?" He looks around, reluctant to waste a valuable summoning spell on a simple pit trap.
Gavriil looks around the room to keep an eye out for anyone coming to investigate the noise, but notices something new this time: a series of lines etched into the ground in front of him. He holds his hand up to Edric and points to the lines, letting him know that it's not safe to proceed.
Hearing Naralesh say that he's running out of spells, Gavriil looks at the others and says, "Well... we do have a body that might trigger the trap. We could use the fey that ambushed Dregan to trigger it, maybe. But I don't know what this trap will do. We may want to be a little farther back when it triggers."
|
|
Seeing the wisdom in Gav's plan Edric moves to the body and easily hefts it, taking the chance to examine it as well in case there is anything else of note.
Returning to the doorway, with everyone else well clear Edric pitches the body onto the floor and steps back hurriedly, hoping not to end up anywhere dark, unpleasant or painful.
The small fey's body tumbles and bounces to a stop in the chamber...nothing happens.
Concord
The next day, a crowd gathers in the main square in Concord, drawn by the word that a man would speaking about something of great importance. At the stroke of noon, a portly, richly attired man steps up to a small stage that was not here the night before.
"People of Fairhaven," the man begins, hooking his thumbs under his doublet near chest, "it is high time you heard the truth about the your so-called Council." Darrick flashes a look at Vosil, raising an eyebrow in inquiry. "You are living a lie! Your Council cares nothing for you, gallivanting about the wilds on fool's errands, all the while leaving Concord open to monster attack, bandit raids, and worse!" There are slight mutterings among the people in the crowd, but most are watching the man intently.
He forges ahead, working himself up. "Do you think the werewolf attack was a coincidence? No! The beast was driven by the foolish actions of your Council! A young girl paid for that foolishness with her life!" More muttering and grumbling, this time a bit louder.
"Moreover, what has all of this 'exploring' and 'mapping' done to benefit you the people, upon whose backs this city was raised? Where is the gold and silver mined with your sweat and tears? Where is the good life promised to you? I'll tell you where...it resides in the pockets and purses of the Council!"
"Perhaps it's not heavy enough." Naralesh grimaces. "Very well. I think an elemental would be the most likely to survive whatever danger lies ahead."
He waits for everyone to stand at a clear distance before casting a spell, calling forth the rocky elemental GRVMTAR. The elemental looked up at the wizard, awaiting instructions. Naralesh spoke in the gravelly language of earth, explaining that the elemental should attempt to protect itself and proceed cautiously through the threshold ahead.
GRVMTAR stomps around, smashing foliage and generally making a lot of noise. Seconds after he begins a thin, purple mist begins wafting up from the floor, filling the chamber.
The elemental begins clawing at its head, as if to tear something out of its mind. It rolls about on the floor for a few seconds, then comes to a stop. It stands up, shaking its head at Naralesh as the mist begins to dissipate.
Talia gasps as the elemental claws at its head, trying to recall if she'd heard of such a thing before.
Wearily, she takes a step forward. "Naralesh, can you detect the presence of magic? Perhaps the trap is still there?"
Vosil quietly seethes at the words: where was this overstuffed popinjay when the Stag Lord was turning them all into pincushions? What does he know about exploring the wilderness? And besides, Fairhaven is not an autonomous collective; and its supreme executive power does not require a mandate from the masses.
Still. Tempting as it is to give this fool an exhibition of the violence inherent in the system, the smart play here is to just walk away. If he wants a battle of words, Talia will give him one. Vosil idly wonders whether she can reduce the fool to tears. He rather hopes so.
Shaking his head at Darrick's questioning look, he walks off to find Asha. "Asha, if you have any magic by which to contact our Viscountess, now would be the time. I think this demands our full attention."
Talia determines that it isn't a spell, the gas is clearly poison of some kind. Either way, it dissipates within seconds.
Back at Concord, the remaining Council members have a subtle discussion while the man continues to harangue the crowd about the lack of government. After an hour of this, he leaves, and the crowd disperses. As they talk, Vosil sees Jubal leaning nonchalantly against a wall, observing him.
Nothing untowards happens to Edric as he stands in the main chamber.
Seeing that the trap seems to be disarmed, Naralesh joins Edric and GRVMTAR in the chamber ahead. The elemental shrugs at Naralesh, seemingly a little disappointed there are no enemies to smash, then crumbles back into gravel, then into dust. He looks around the room.
Nodding at Jubal, Vosil approaches him. "Your information was good, thank you for the warning."
Talia looks to the stairs. "Perhaps the trap was set by that strange creature outside?" Convincing herself that it must be the case, the Viscountess ascends the steps.
The stairs end in a circular room featuring wide windows draped with hanging vines that offer panoramic views of the keep’s overgrown courtyard and the forest beyond. An open circular skylight in the ceiling provides glimpses of the forest canopy overhead. The walls between the windows are carved with exquisite, delicate nature motifs highlighted in gold and silver leaf. A riot of flowers, plants, and bushes sprout from the thick loam that carpets the hall’s floor, as if one were walking in a fantastic glade elevated high above the forest floor.
Sprawled on a divan of ancient make, a beautiful elven woman waits for you. "I was not expecting guests." She states matter-of-factly. "But you are welcome all the same." Her voice is at once sensuous and stern, with an otherworldy quality that tells you she is of the fey.
Nodding at Jubal, Vosil approaches him. "Your information was good, thank you for the warning."
Jubal grins that wolfish grin of his. "That one looks like trouble. It's a problem that can be...looked into. If you're interested, of course."
A lovely merchant's wife walks by, and he tips his hat to her. She hurries on. Jubal's attention back to Vosil, he nods. "For a small fee, obviously."
Make it look like an accident. That's all Vosil need say: Jubal would nod, and the thing would never be spoken of again.
After all, he is - as he remarked to Jubal - a man of arms, accustomed to combat and unafraid of bloodshed. Squeamishness is not a survival trait. But that is not all that he is: as a lore warden, he was trained not merely to fight but - more dangerously - to think. The exchange of ideas in conversation is as natural to him as the exchange of blows in combat.
One such exchange springs readily to mind.
"I don't know what kind of ruler I would be. A poor one, I expect. Too prone to missing the important details, too rash, too quick to anger."
Looking back down, Talia fixes Vosil with a stern look, brow creased. "But know this: with every fiber of my being, I would not be cruel. I would not be a monster. I would not be a Surtova."
He sighs. No two ways about it, the tyrants have it easy.
"I appreciate the offer, but for now I am minded to resolve this peacefully. You have not seen our Viscountess in action, so let me assure you this is not the soft option. She can achieve with words an effect that most could not achieve with steel. If however that doesn't work, then I shall reconsider. But I am sure that we can find a use for your services until then."
"Not sure what you are getting at, Vosil," Jubal says, "but we aren't the Red Mantis. You have a problem, we help solve problems. I don't suggest letting him go on forever." Jubal stops speaking and looks down at his boots, kicking a stone across the cobble street.
"I would have thought someone who knew our signs and ways would get 'it', but I guess I'll have to help you out. What do you know about this guy: who is he? where'd he come from? So on and so on. Maybe you need some information before you start making decisions like this."
Jubal looks back up. "Think about it. I'll be around." Then he walks off.
Naralesh's usually taciturn expression turns to one of surprise. He bows his head in greeting, and responds to her in Elven, giving a formal salutation. "We thank you for your welcome," he says graciously. Switching to Taldane he continues, "We did not intend to intrude, as we thought this place long abandoned. May I ask your name? I am called Naralesh." He switches again to Elven for the final sentence.
Talia's eyes narrow as she listens to Naralesh's greeting. A fey. Not an elf at all.
The Viscountess' hand grips her scorpion whip tightly, her jaw clenched. "Thank you for your kindness, m'Lady. I am Talia. This is Edric. And Dregan. And Gavriil. We're from Concord, and we're merely passing through. As Naralesh says, we're... surprised to see anyone here. I believe we've heard of you. This may seem like a strange question, m'Lady. But." Talia swallows, suddenly nervous. "Do you - or did you - know any unicorns?"
Naralesh's expression does not betray his bemusement that even Talia bought his act. Perhaps I should audition for a part in one of her plays, he thinks. Of course I know she's not an elf, but if she wishes to play the part of one, it is perhaps to our benefit that we play along for now. He waits to hear what this mysterious woman has to say, but tenses up when Talia mentions the unicorn. Tyg and Perlivash were absolutely terrified of 'her.' Let us hope that 'her' and our host are not one and the same.
Vosil nods. More information is better. "See what you can dig up, and you can present your findings when I introduce you to the Viscountess. Until she returns, I think unfortunately that we just have to let that overstuffed fool keep talking. But let's keep an eye on who he's meeting with, just in case."
The graveyards are full of advisers who overstepped their authority; and of rulers who let their secret police become too powerful. A little caution now while they gather information is advisable.
He gives a rueful smile: sooner or later, the graveyards are full of everyone...
Gavriil ascends the stairs alongside the others, keeping his guard up after having dealt with traps and quicklings down below. Once he reaches the top, though he is quickly stopped in his tracks. After all the months spent in the Stolen Lands Gavriil had come across enough dangerous beautiful women to keep his guard up, but he couldn't help but smirk at the fey woman standing before them.
He steps forward next to Edric to help protect Talia, while placing her behind him to hide his charming grin and says to the woman in sylvan,
Ignoring the exchange between you in various languages, the 'elven' woman steps forward with an inviting smile. She raises her arms above her head, intertwining her wrists and moving her hips suggestively. She begins to move in a sinuous fashion - the motion is...captivating.
"I am called the Dancing Lady." she murmurs.
Only Naralesh is unfazed by the Dancing Lady's sensuous movements. The rest stand slack-jawed and dazed by her dance.
Concord
Jubal nods, and with a grin, moves off into the streets.
A day later, the man is in the square again, haranguing the crowd about taxes and the absence of the Ruling Council. Despite the fact that fully half the Council remains, the man focuses on the missing Viscountess. The people grumble in agreement. There is no obvious discontent, but the feeling of a growing undercurrent of unrest can't be ignored.
| 5 people marked this as a favorite. |
Gavriil lowers his sword slightly as the "elven" woman began to gyrate her hips. His smirk fades from his face as he looks on with awe at how to woman moves like ripples on the surfaces of water. For a brief moment he is enraptured by her and forgets everything around him.
But then he quickly realizes that he's staring at her in a way that would probably be frowned upon by the others. He quickly looks away to the others with a wolfish grin to play it off as nothing. As his eyes fall on the others, though, he realizes he wasn't the only one oogling their hostess. He could almost see a bit of drool coming out the corner of Talia's mouth.
Right, and I'm the one that has a weakness for women...
He realizes that there was something... magical about the way the woman is moving and smiles at her. He takes a step toward her and says, "Mistress, you move like no woman I've seen before, but..." he snaps up his rapier and plunges it toward her chest, "I've seen better!"
Concord
Vosil convenes a meeting of the other members of the Council. "This is getting out of hand - I propose that we slow him down. I'll not confront him directly, as Talia will do that better than I, but I suggest that we make him uncomfortable."
He ponders. "Perhaps some rumours as to why he is here - suggest that he fled after passing bad coin elsewhere? That should make people reluctant to take payment from him." He looks around. "In truth, I am open to suggestions."
Naralesh was distracted by the woman's behavior for only a moment before he realized its sinister intent. "That's quite enough of that!" he snapped. I suspect GRVMTAR and his fellows wouldn't be susceptible to this seducer's wiles, he thought wryly, barking words to a spell. At his command, rocky forms emerged, surrounding the woman at a few paces distance and, at once, charged for her with deadly intent.
Naralesh hardly expected to summon as many elementals as he did. Overwhelmed by the magical force exploding forth from his fingertips, he staggered backwards, unable to keep his balance. His veins burned like fire as they writhed in the aftermath of the complicated summons being rushed too quickly.
GRVMTAR and the two other elementals smashed together like a avalanche, rocky fists swinging like battering rams.
Elven Ruins
Gavriil and the elementals strike the Dancing Lady , but her fey nature deflects some of the damage!
The Dancing Lady gestures at Gavriil, words of power spill from her red lips. She ends with a sigh 'come to me lover, defend me from these barbarians!'
Concord
"Let's wait and see what we learn from your...associates, Vosil. One more day won't make a difference if it helps us know what we are up against."
Gavriil hears the words of power and feels them enter his mind, searching for a way to control him. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth against their influence. Whether it was pure luck or his resolve to to let the spell work, he'll never know, but the spell finds no hold over his mind.
He opens his eyes and lashes out again with his rapier, saying, "You're not the first woman I let down with a 'no'!"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Vosil nods in agreement. If only there were some way to accelerate the passage of time - but this is not a story, where one may skip conveniently to the significant moments; each moment has to be lived through.
The future is something that we all reach at the rate of sixty seconds a minute, whoever we are, whatever we do.
He tries to recall which of the great sages said that.
Naralesh glances at the others, still drooling in their stupor. I have to stop her dance, he thinks. But how? After a moment, an idea comes to him, and with a smirk he produces a tiny pinch of butter from his spell component pouch and casts a spell he learned from Talia's repertoire. At once, a thin sheet of slippery grease shoots across the floor beneath the lady's feet. Please fall! Naralesh thinks urgently, hoping that toppling the Dancing Lady will interrupt her dance long enough to free his captivated friends!
The magic topples two of his elementals, but the rocky combatants quickly rise to their feet and resume the assault.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Talia runs a hand under her chin, sort-of realizing she's drooling, but not really caring. The way the mysterious lady, the way she moved, it was... well, there were simply no words to describe it. No words that Talia had ever written, at any rate. And likely never would.
Scowling, the viscountess stands on her tip-toes to look over one of Naralesh's stupid elementals, who were suddenly - and unwelcomingly - obscuring the Dancing Lady's performance.
"Hey! Down in front!"
The Dancing Lady claws futilely at the elementals as they attack her. Their slams crack bone and she screams in agony. Then Gavriil's rapier takes her full in the stomach. She slumps to her knees, gripping the wound in her abdomen. Slowly, she pulls her hand from her belly, soaked in blood. Staring at it for a moment, she laughs quietly.
"You shall...pay..for this..." she murmurs. "I curse you...and all of yours...for eternity..." She drops to all fours, laboring for breath. "I go now..." Then she dies.
As she dies, the trance you were in from her dance fades like a bad dream.
Concord
The next day you are busy in the Council chambers, when Jubal saunters in. With a barely a nod of acknowledgement to the guards at the door, he takes a chair at the table and puts his feet up.
"Interesting, your fat man with the loud voice." He grins, "Not what I expected." He waits to be prompted, smirk on his face and enjoying the attention.
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
Gavriil looks down at the 'elven' woman plying her curse with her dying breath. He feels her magic wash over him and then disapate, before saying, "You won't be the first woman to curse me and probably won't be the last, darling."
He turns to the others and says, "You all enjoying the show?"