Rudabeh found herself a kindred spirit in the priest, in that they usually let their gods do the heavy lifting when it came to healing. Unfortunately this way not an appropriate time to bond over it.
She spins in place at the sound of Irovetti's voice, drawing in a breath of suprise. It was shocking to be glad to see the man, and even worse he was looking and acting like what a former king should do.
There is little she can do but watch as he scurries from person to person, putting some sort of enchnatment on them. "Thank you." Rudabeh says quickly as he explains the nature of the spell. She decides now was not the time to point out that this particular attack seemed to be about her instead of him, and instead lifts the garnet to Iovetti's eyes. "An agent of Razmir wated ot meet me upstairs, made some threats, and said we couldn't save them all. He made a show of activating this gem then quickly died to whatever these people are afflicted with. I think the apple porridge was poisoned and he magically activated it, but that is only because I him and some of the sick eating it. "
She passes the garnet to Irovetti, fully expecting never to see it again. "Is there still any magic left in this? Some way to reverse it? I'm afraid I have no knowledge of poisons or magic."
The boy arrives as she finishes pleading her ignorance, and Rudabeh thanks him while taking the mass of dirty roots. She quickly retrieves a knife sticking out of a nearby glazed ham and cuts off a small piece before leaning down to the pitiful looking young girl before them.
Unsure of what she is doing but having seen others administer medicine to unresponsive persons before, she puts the small bit of root into her mouth and starts to chew.
Her abomindal mmuscles immediately and reflexively heave, but Rudabeh keeps her dinner down. Eyes watering and face pinched in pain, she dips two fingers into her mouth to dig out the masicated root, other hand reaching down to open the young girl's mouth. "If you can hear me, please swallow this, it may help." Is said slowly, but wth an air of urgency. Pushing her fingers past the yellow foam on the girl's lips, Rudabeh places the mass of root on her tongue, wipes the excess off on her bottom insciors on the way out, and closes her mouth until she swallows.
While Irovetti lies as naturally as he breathes, she suspected he was being truthful and not even exagerating about the effects of the root. As soon as she gets the girl to swallow Rudabeh immediately turns her on her side in anticipation of the evening's banquet making its way onto the floor.
When Rudabeh mentioned Razmir Irovetti did something the paladin hadn't ever seen before. The short little man looked frightened. He tried to hide it, but did a remarkably poor job. His face whitened, nervous fingers twisting at his sequined mask. The man even took half a step backwards.
"Razmir? Here?"
He was still recovering when Rudabeh slapped a garnet in his hand and got to work with the root. She didn't have time to deal with him now.
The paladin broke off a bit of the twisted, gnarled roots. How much should she give? Rudabeh didn't want to overdo it, but considering the girl was clearly dying....then again, would this even help? Mind awhirl, Rudabeh took a small chunk and began to chew it.
Well, that drove away her other thoughts for awhile. The dry musty root was foul in her mouth. A cloying, pungent mix of old cheese, fresh mildew and and human body odor. The foul reek coated her tongue in a greasy dust that mere salvia had no hope of penetrating. Instantly her gut started to heave like a ship in a hurricane, but the undine forced it down with pure will. She didn't have time to be sick. But Gods that root was awful.
Without delay Rudabeh extracts the half-chewed root and pushes it into the prone girl's mouth. To her relief the spasming girl swallows it without much trouble, apparently her throat was gulping of its own accord. But would it help?
A few moments pass, only a few seconds but they feel much longer to the waiting paladin. Then, without any sign, the girl vomits up a fountain of half-digested food. Like a tiny tidal wave, the sickening mix of stomach contents flows over the faux-grass. The smell is somehow even worse then usual. Perhaps the root added to the aroma?
Again and again the girl spit up her insides, but her spasming slowed and then ceased, her breathing easing. Color did not come back to her face, but she did look better.
But better enough?
Rudabeh would take a deep breath of relief if every wisp of air that moved past her tongue didn't taste like the inside of an orc's boot after a week long march across a fetid swamp. Instead, she just watches the sick girl with a worried expression and stands up.
It didn't kill her, and it may have helped, so she breaks off half the root and offers it to the priest. "I don't know if this is helping but it's the only medicine we have. You... may want to make the victims chew it instead if you can. It's truly horrible."
She turns to Irovetti briefly, hoping he's recovered from his sudden shock. "Please let me know immediately if there is any magic left in that gem. We don't know what we're dealing with here."
Leaving him with some instructions to hopefully take his mind off what was apparently a boogeyman to the former king, the paladin strides across the room with purpose, eyes sweeping the people still laying on the ground. Was there enough root to go around? Was it even going to help?
Approaching Aurelia in the corner of the room, Rudabeh kneels down to speak slowly and calmly. "Aurelia, can you hear me? I think you've been poisoned by the apple porridge." Taking a piece of root from the gangly sample, Rudabeh grids herself and puts it in her mouth to start chewing.
It was somehow even worse than last time, and she is barely able to keep down the truly impressive amount of fish roe she had consumed earlier. Quickly digging the mush out of her mouth, she opens Aurelia's and pushes it onto her tongue. "I need you to swallow this."
Turning the surprisingly light girl on her side, Rudabeh awaits the worst of it. When she had ejected her dinner for the second time that night, Rudabeh takes the hand holding the root and grabs her holy symbol, the other resting on Aurelia's side. "Alseta, please ease her pain." She says, invoking the power of her goddess to settle the girl's stomach. Rudabeh knew from experience her healing abilities could settle digestive problems as well as any home remedy. Though she knew it was no cure, but it would make Aurelia feel better.
The priest takes the root with confusion but nods and starts for the other fallen victims. He is already disturbing roots to other guests to help, as Rudabeh turns away.
Irovetti holds the ring and visibly masters himself. The man could make small talk with a genie and try to con a magma dragon. Why had he lost his nerve at the mere mention of Razmir? Was the fake God that intimidating...or was it a bit too close to home for the former king? Still, despite gathering himself he says nothing while Rudabeh strides over to Aurelia, the gathered on-lookers parting like darting fish.
The small sorcerer doesn't respond when Rudabeh speaks, so the paladin inserts the root. As she expects the girl quickly starts to vomit, complete with shuddering gasps and full body heaves. It is an unpleasant sight and all the worse as the pristine red parade cloak catches a great deal of the fluid. Still, Rudabeh had seen worse, far worse.
Between her healing pulse and the root, Aurelia's body stops jerking or thrashing. Indeed, the girl open's her bright eyes and seems to fix on Rudabeh. 'So....cold." She murmurs, quiet as a child.
Then Irovetti rushes over, holding the ring, "There is not much left on here, but they did not bother to hide things. They clearly thought it would act too quickly to be spotted. But-" Rudabeh, instead of shaking the man as she wishes, merely gave him a stare so cold it froze the small man.
"Heat." he squeaked, "We need to expose them to great heat! Between that and the roots, it should work!"
Rudabeh is kneeling over Aurelia, frowning, when Irovetti rushes over. Her head swivels upwards at his arrival, eyes slowly hardening into sapphires as he prattles on much too long. Her stern brow relaxes a little as the man gives the answer she was seeking, and she starts to scoop up the thin girl in her arms. Thank you, Alseta, for opening the way forward. Is a silent prayer to her goddess as the path to saving as any as she could becomes clear.
A vomit-covered parade cloak unfurls and hangs pitifully to the ground when Rudabeh stands up with Aurelia in her arms as if she were a load of firewood. Indeed, she only weighed as much. "We don't have time to build fires hot enough. We have to get them to the kitchen!" Her head turns to Ractus, voice filled with conviction. "Please get anyone that is stout to start carrying those treated with the root to the kitchen. I'll take care of getting the staff's cooperation." Figuring Ractus knew how to press-gang a few unwilling arms into manual labor, she leaves it in his capable hands and looks to Irovetti.
"Lead the way." She asks while clutching Aurelia to her chest. As they hurry down the hallways, the paladin decides that for all his flaws, the former king did deserve some praise. "Thank you. I am clueless about magic." Is said between puffed breaths. "Many will survive this thanks to you."
The small girl was cold as a block of ice in Rudabeh's arm, and even the cold hardy undine's skin prickled at prolonged contact. She could only imagine what such temperatures might mean to a human.
"The kitchens, yes!" Irovetti says, pointing behind him. "I still have them stoked...We do a lot of cooking by magic but there should be plenty of heat..."
Ractus nods firmly when given his charge. He instantly turns to a rotund but strong looking-noble. "You! Pick up that girl!" The elf barks, pointing to the still shivering woman Rudabeh force-fed the first roots to.
"Me?" The man says, taking a step back. "I'm a Secondary Delegate...besides, she might be contagious." He glances at the vomit-strewn woman.
"Then you have to ask yourself. Are you more scared of that or of me?" The elf growls, and takes a step forward. Fists the size of a child's head audibly crack at his side, lion's head catching the dancing festive lights. The elf seems to grow at least a foot taller as he glowers at the fat nobleman.
In short order, Ractus has a host of 'willing' hands.
Faux-grass quickly changes to normal wooden flooring as Rudabeh (with Irovetti trailing behind) pass through a flowery, vine-clad arch into the dark kitchens. The short man does his best to keep up, but Rudbeh has a long stride when she is in a hurry. In her arms, Aurelia starts to mutter, words too low and slow to catch but it puts a spike of fear through Rudabeh.
He beams at her compliment but doesn't seem to care much that he saved a number of human lives. "Well, I suppose." he wheezes, "But...Gods..Razmir? Are you sure?...Why would he want to...kill me? I never crossed him...." A quick stop to catch his breath, hand on the wall, like a man running a race, "And why apple porridge? I never touch the stuff. I only include it for the...the help."
Before Rudabeh can reply they enter the kitchens. A warm and cavernous room, filled with table and counters. Copper pots and pans hang from the ceiling, flashing sepia-toned reflections of the undine back at her. Dirty dishes lie in heaps all over the room, in unstable looking stacks. A few servants look surprised when Rudabeh bursts in, rags or spoons in hand. One man actually drops a tray of carefully decorated cupcakes, the silver patter cracking on the floor.
And at the back of the room, two huge ovens. Both are currently open at the moment, like the twin mouths of a rather small dragon. Orange light flickers inside, giving the brick-lined tubes a sinister, demonic look. And yet, Rudabeh had never been so relived to see a roaring fire.
She takes a single step and then is interrupted by a very strange thing. A foot-wide metal orb appears from behind a towering cake, floating like a metallic jellyfish. A single blue eye takes up most of the hemisphere facing Rudabeh, although a few very simple metal arms hang down. It floats toward Rudabeh and hangs in mid-air just before her.
'Oh, bother." Irovetti says, swatting at it, "Don't mind this thing, it-"
"Scanning Guest." The orb says, with a strangest voice Rudabeh had ever heard. It is a dry, metallic sound like most constructs but each word is widely different, like...wait, was that Irovetti's voice for the word 'guest'? The orb was merely playing back recorded words in a new order.
The orb goes on, sounding like a disjointed chorus, "Species: Undine. Faith: Alseta. Gender: Female. Likely favored foods to be raw seafoods, unprocessed assorted meats, and sweet desserts. Religious restrictions: None."
There was a buzzing click as the un-blinking eye stared Rudabeh down.
"Scanning Guest. Species: Human. Faith: Iomeadae. Gender: Female. Likely favored foods to be breads, military rations, simple fruits and overly sweet desserts. Religious Restrictions: Ethically slain meals preferred."
Then a ding sounded from the orb, and it floated over to a boiling pot, one metal arm snaking down to stir some thickening icing.
Unarmored and with only a lithe human in her arms to slow her down, Rudabeh's breath barely picks up as they hurry down the hallway. She pauses as Irovetti catches his breath, hiding her impatience as best she can- after all, he wasn't expected to be sprinting about every day and he was getting on in his years for a human.
She is about to inform him that the poisoning was likely more about sending a message rather than targeting him when they reach the kitchen, wiping the uncritical thoughts from her mind. A glance is spared for the servant as he drops the cupcakes, and when she is looking back there is a metal orb staring her in the face.
Taken aback, the paladin clutches Aurelia to her chest and watches it, wide-eyed. Her expression falls from concern to annoyance as it becomes clear it was some sort of mindless construct, and it was in her way. She moves past it and towards the ovens.
Questions about Irovetti's chef would also have to wait, and she corners the servant nearest the ovens. "We have an emergency, guests have been poisoned." Rudabeh starts calmly but directly, looking the person in the eye. "They need heat, or they're going to die." Her gaze turns to the ovens. "Open the firebox, put on more fuel, and throw open the draft!" As soon as one of the oven's fireboxes are open Rudabeh approaches it, laying Aurelia close and watching the orange light flicker off of the parade armor adorning her small frame.
The servants hop to Rudabeh's firm orders. The ovens are thrown open, releasing a wave of boiling heat that makes Rudabeh start to sweat instantly. Wouldn't she ever face a challenge where her cold resistance would be useful? It always seemed to be fire. The servants shielded their faces from the now visible flames, as they threw in more wood and opened the flues. Inside, the fire crackles hungrily, pleased with the fuel.
"Danger." The small floating machine said, leaving the setting icing. "Temperature rising, useful zone shifting. Result: Inability to properly bake pies! Oven must be reset to proper cooking parameters." The weird machine actually moves to try it itself but a sweating cook waves it off with a heavy ladle. The machine buzzes angrily but makes no further moves except to stare Rudabeh down.
Rudabeh hears footsteps behind and sees Ractus at the head of a bustling crowd, carrying an old barded man. In moments the press-ganged guests are carrying in the rest of the poisoned victims, many of which bare the tell-tale signs (and smells) of having vomited up their dinners. Many however are still shaking violently while a few seem all too still.
Aurelia is soon joined by a row of nearly two dozens other bodies, all sweating in the sweltering heat as the servants stoke the oven fires. Ractus comes up to Rudabeh, face hidden by the lion mask.
"That is everyone, Rudabeh." The elf says "We got the root for all of them but for a few...it took too long. We are going to lose a few." His voice is hard, the forced sterility of a battlefield commander who understands casualties. "I'm not healer but six or seven seemed too far gone."
Indeed, a quick glance tells Rudabeh the same thing. Her quick actions saved many, even most, but the Razmiran agent's words were true enough. She could not save them all.
Meanwhile, one of the guests, while wiping effluvia off his bright white coat is busy castigating Irovetti.
"What sort of party is this, anyway? Did you have any security?" The man shouts, pointing a finger at Irovetti, "Your imcomptence has cost me the life of a valued servant. Do you have any idea how long it took to train her? It is going to cost me a fortune to replace her." The man points to one of the still, unmoving figures near the ovens, a middle-aged woman with brown hair. "You will be lucky if I don't charge you for damages!"
Rudabeh grimmaces as the heat heats her face, feeling it wash over her freshly healed skin. It was amazing how much feeling she had lost in the left side of her face, which now made the fire doubly awful. She soothed the animal part of her mind that wanted to do nothing more than get away from the roaring flames by telling herself they would be leaving for Outsea tomorrow morning.
Standing up and readying herself to fight off the cooking orb with the fork in her pocket if she had to, Rudabeh just stares back at its judging gaze. For some reason she was starting to think she didn't like the construct, even though it was just doing its job.
She tears her eyes away form its unblinking gaze when Ractus enters, hustling over to take bodies from the less fit of the press ganged and begin arranging them as close to the fires as possible.
"You're right." Rudabeh replies with the same metallic inflection as the orb-chef, a cold calculus running through her head. "Help me move the ones that are too far gone to the back of the row. We'll move up the ones that look like they're going to pull through closer to the fire." With a few instructions and Ractus' help she sets to work, prioritizing those most likely to survive and leaving the worst off in the hands of their gods.
The shouting of one of the guests distracts her, and with a look t Ractus starts to move off. "Duty calls." She says with all the excitement of a lawyer about to defend a client they know are not only guilty, but self-incriminating.
"Sir, listen. Please." Rudabeh says sternly as she approaches, locking eyes with the man and making a calming gesture. "I discovered the culprit, and they are dead. I suspect they entered the venue through magical means and were undetected until announcing their intentions. This venue had a reasonable measure of security for its intentions and Irovetti cannot be held responsible for preventing the actions of an unseen mad man, let alone a magically gifted one." Rudabeh prayed to Alseta the agent of Razmir hadn't walked in through the front door. She figured no one, not even Razmir himself, had the stones to walk around Daggermark with a mask of Razmir on without inviting a dagger in their back, front, or face.
"Her body is intact if you wish to have her raised, which is surely within the means of a wealthy and influential person such as yourself. If you give her another chance at life she may even swear an oath of undying loyalty to you. Otherwise, I am sorry for your loss and will personally see her off to Pharamasa." Rudabeh attempts to diffuse the situation by deflecting the matter of Irovetti's responsiblity to sticking the man in an awkward position- either he admits he can't afford a priest to raise the servent and training her really didn't cost a fortunate as he claimed, or he has a moment to flaunt his wealth and claim he had no issue spending the money to bring back dead servants.
The man looks unimpressed with Rudabeh's argument but another guest cuts in, a middle-aged woman dressed as female version of Gozreh, the pitless weather god.
"Give it a rest, Pietr. Are you really going to pretend she wasn't insured?" Seeing Rudabeh's questioning face the woman adds, "Standard practice in Daggermark, from the old days. [b]"Servants who go to public events and eat are often insured against just such a case. For the very valuable it covers the cost of resurrections but usually just something to pay for a replacement, as well as something for the family. Occupational hazard." She glances around at the bodies curled on the kitchen floor, "This is hardly my first poisoning."
"The Guild, I imagine?" She offers, "Any idea who the target was? They didn't get anyone important, which is a rare miss. Getting sloppy, I suppose. Nothing in the city is what it used to be." She sighs.
The man, Pietr waves a hand at the woman, but stomps toward the door apparently unwilling to push the point further.
Irovetti sidles up and mutters in Rudabeh's ear, "I assume most of the guests will leave. Do we need to question them or make a statement...or something?"
Rudabeh accepts the concept of servant insurance as it is introduced, and thinks that the woman that died under Pietr's service must have been valuable indeed for such an arrangement.
The paladin was faced with a difficult choice at the woman's questioning. On one hand, she was an arbitrator of truth , but on the other Razmir was clearly trying to spread terror, and if she denied him the recognition this would mean little. The priest, Irovetti, and Ractus already knew, but maybe she could blunt the spread of this event.
"I believe the idea was to send a message that we are not safe." The undine carefully responds to the woman. It was still true, but she employs the ancient and effective Alsetan tactic of simply saying nothing when it came to Razmir. "In any case, thank you." She says while inclining her head towards the retreating Pietr.
Irovetti's appearance at her side causes her to crane her neck, and then shake her head. "No, let them go. We already know what happened here, and I believe the danger has passed."
Straightening, she sighs and furrows her sweating brow. "I am going to check the second floor." Her head turns towards Ractus. "I will be back shortly, watch the victims please."
Rudabeh heads up the stairs, her step oddly light (no longer being down by pounds of steel plate). She finds the body where she left it, frozen in a rictus of pain. The paladin picks up the mask where it had fallen, the ornamentation gleaming softly in the dim light. The man's pockets are, to no surprise, empty of anything save some lint. Clearly his death was part of the plan and his master was deliberately keeping her in the dark. Everyone knew a threat was darker when full of mystery.
But Rudabeh was no child, to be afraid of bumps in the night. Sadly, she knew death all too well, it held no terror for her. This crime made her sad, not afraid or guilty. It laid quite clearly at the feet of the false God and no one else. She had plenty of real regrets behind her, to waste time with manufactured ones.
She lifts his body with some effort and carries it downstairs. Ractus, still acting as foremen, has ordered some cloth to be gathered from the changing rooms, to be used as burial shrouds. Due to Irovetti's taste, many of them are glittering sheets of purple, gold or pearl, striped and dotted. And yet, somehow, despite looking crass, it looks serious and worthy.
Ractus eyes the corpse in Rudabeh's hand, "I'll find a potato sack in the back for that one." he glances up at Rudabeh, "I haven't live here long enough. Do people get buried here? What's the usual custom?"
Rudabeh gives an amused snort to Ractus as she lowers the follower of Razmir into place along the other dead. "Depends on the size of your coin purse." She answers, straightening and stretching briefly. "The ground is too swampy for burials and the bodies tend to come back up during a heavy rain, but that doesn't stop the poorest from burying bodies in shallow graves with stones on their chest. I came across a zombie stuck underneath a collapsed cairn once, head still stuck in the mud and limbs flailing for Alseta knows how long." She leaves it unsaid she dispatched the souless creature.
"In Daggermark proper, most are hauled outside of the city, and cremated. These folks will probably have enough coin for a place in some above ground mausoleum if their faith encourages preserving bodies or coffins, or a place for an urn of ashes." The undine closes her eyes and sighs, making ready to leave and make this Irovetti's problem. "Sorry, that was probably more than you wanted to know. We aren't burying any of our own today, thankfully."
She makes a gesture to the prostrate Aurelia. "Let's get her cleaned up and in a warm bed."
They leave Irovetti to clean up what remains of the party. It seems clear, even in Daggermark, that a mass murder is enough to kill the mood. Nobles, servants and party staff all follow Rudabeh and Ractus out into the warm summer night, the rich in carriages and ricksaws while the more humble trudge on foot.
Ractus looks up and down the long dark street, eyes narrowed. All seems quiet and still, but it is obvious the elf is on edge. Hard to blame him considering an agent of a foreign power just killed half a dozen people merely to 'send a message'. That said, unless Razmir has an army in the alley, there is probably little in Daggermark that could stop he and Rudabeh together. This would be the wrong night for a footpad to try Rudabeh's patience or Ractu's mercy.
Luckily nothing like that occurs, and shortly Rudabeh has dropped Aurelia off at the river-side inn serving as Company headquarters. At the door step Ractus pauses and takes the sleeping sorcerer out of the undine's carry.
'I'll take her inside and handle the boys." After a brief discussion on what Rudabeh wants to share the elf nods, "Fair enough, but no secret lasts long. I'll do my best to calm them down, Aurelia is popular. Still, it isn't like their is much for them to vent on. There isn't a Razmir embassy or something." Ractus's voice carries long experience and Rudabeh wonders how many wars he has seen start by such acts of vengeance.
The paladin salutes and heads back into the gloom, intent to head to the Grove, to report. As she walks she wonders...does Veleda sleep. She surely must yet it felt odd to imagine the old woman at rest, those bright eyes shut and dozing. Well, even if she slept, she probably would want to be woken for this....
Blocks later, while Rudabeh is tromping through a grimy puddle, she sees a shape in a dark alley. A threat? Was it sent by Razmir or merely some Daggermark criminal? Another convoluted plot by Irovetti?
The question vanishes like frost in the morning as Dryw steps out of the gloom. She shakes her robes, as if she had just rolled out of bed...or taken a new shape.
The serve woman doesn't smile but nods to Rudabeh.
"Good night." Then she glances at the moon and frowns, "No. Good Morning." The priestess shrugs, "I assume you are on your way to Veleda? No need. She already knows what happened at Irovetti's little soiree." The gray-haired lady frowns and adds, edge in her voice, "A party, really? Can't you keep that little man under control even for a day? He's feet have barely had time to dry and he is already planning political power plays."
She pauses, takes a deep breath and goes on in a more neutral tone, "I was instructed to tell you, pervious orders stand. Keep your head down and go to Outsea. She also said.." a pause as a trio of drunk sailors amble past, singing river shanties at full volume.
"She also told me to warn you. 'Outsea has deeper waters then you remember. Keep your eyes open.'" Dryw shrugged, "And that is all."
"The truth shines through eventually." Rudabeh remarks to Ractus about keeping the Razmir poisoning secret. "I only seek to veil the attempt so the terror Razmir wishes to instill in people is deadened by forgetful memories." She leaves him with a bow of her head to communicate with the mercenaries... or are they soldiers now that they are officially employed?
Distracted by the thoughts of legality and consequence these soldiers may have in the grand scheme of the Pact, she actually starts at the shadow in the alleyway at the edge of her darkvision. When Dryw steps into range of her black-and-white vision she relaxes and straightens, curiosity painting her face. Was Dryw sent by Veleda to check up on her?
"He doesn't really listen." The paladin says with a sigh, knowing full well how much trouble the former king is going to cause her in the future. "I can only hope his ministrations lead to opportunity rather than disaster." There is a pause as Rudabeh realizes there is still vomit on her clothes, and she stares at it helplessly for a moment before shaking her head and returning the priestess' gaze.
"Understood. We leave in the morning." She replies even as the sailors pass, Rudabeh paying them no mind but staying still as she awaits the rest of Dryw's message from Veleda. Black eyebrows rise in surprise as she processes the words. "Deeper...?" The word is repeated under Rudabeh's breath, and she walks forward to get closer to the human.
"Is there something I should know about the political situation in Outsea?" There is an urgency in her hushed voice, as if she were asking about the health of a loved one. Another, more literal interpretation springs to mind- that Danglosa has stirred, but surely that would be an event that would not need to be shrouded in vagueries.
Dryw looks surprised when Rudabeh steps close then wrinkles her nose. At first she glances around the dark cobbles on the street, perhaps looking for a dead rat or pile of refuse left out to rot. Then her eyes find the smear of Aurelia's dried vomit on Rudabeh's leather coat. The human woman grimaces and says, "I assume you don't mind?"
Without another bit of warning she raises a hand and two gallons of fresh clean water drop onto Rudabeh, as if someone had emptied a bucket. The liquid is chilly, like it had just been lifted out of a mountain spring and perfectly clear. It is like heaven to the undine, washing away the sweat, bile and general nastiness of the party's aftermath. Almost as good as jumping in the river.
The Pact woman sighs, "It helps...a bit."
Then she shakes her head, "She...did not confide in me on this matter. But I know her well, as well as anyone does these days. She seems troubled and seems to expect more out of your trip then sight-seeing." A wry grin crosses her stern face, looking out of place. "I have a feeling that my petty maneuver to get you out of the city is merely part of her greater design. I am like a child playing at this game while my mother watches."
Then she holds up a hand, "No offense, I did not know you yet. In any case, stay safe. I could tell she is worried about you, and what you might find in your old home."
Rudabeh cocks her head to the side when Dryw aks if she doesn't mind, the expresion wiped off her face by the sudden deluge of cold water. The undine gasps- not in the offended shock most humans would express, but in the sudden rush of bliss from the cold water. After the incident in Pitax half of her face had been numb for so long, she forgot what it was like to feel the invigorating infusion of cold water across her entire face. She does not shake or move to get the water off of her, nor does she seem to be effected by the little streams running into her eyes.
Drops hang off of Rudabeh's extended ears, while the deluge mostly sloughed off of her jet-black, naturally oily hair. "Oh, thank you. Not much time for laundry today, I'm afraid." She admits sheepishly wen she realizes Dryw had done it to rinse her down.
THe priestess' comments on her being a child playing a game causes Rudabeh to laugh from deep in her diaphram. Perhaps it was the joy of being suddenly splashed with cool, clean water, but she found the honesty both terribly funny and refreshing. The deep guffaw that betrays all sense of stealth echos down the street before she can master herself. "If you are a child playing games, then I am the ball being kicked around!" She says with a smile. "No, I appreciate it. Not only have I not been home in years, but if Veleda still wants me to go, especially if she is worried, there must be a reason. I will trust in her and Alseta."
With a nod that sends droplets flying to the pavement, she bids Dryw farewell. "Please, stay safe yourself. Forces move, and they are not kind." Rudabeh turns with a wave, and makes her way back to the inn to get properly cleaned up and rest.
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Not for the first time, Rudabeh thought how strange humans were about the weather. It wasn't that they disliked the rain or fog, the undine was used to that and it made sense. They simply weren't adapted to it, like she was. For them, rain chilled their skin and blurred their vision. No, it wasn't that.
It was how much they complained about it. They seemed to grouse at each individual raindrop or wisp of fog. Rudabeh didn't care for dry, hot days but you didn't see her cursing about it. So strange. Didn't they realize the weather didn't care?
Still, even Rudabeh had to admit, the morning drizzle and fog hadn't slowed down her Company much. Even now, standing on the edge of the wharf, she could see the barge was mostly filled with the crates and piles of gear, heaped by her mercenaries. They had done the work with speed, if not particular efficiency or care. It helped that Irovetti was leaving some of his precious creature comforts behind in a townhouse he had somehow acquired here in the city. They no longer needed to make room for a four-poster bed.
The men had taken the news of their destination well, with many remarking they had never been to Outsea. Rudabeh knew many mercenaries and sellswords chose this lifestyle with the hope to see exotic, new destination, she had been no different. And places didn't get much more exotic then Rudabeh's old homeland. She had frowned when one female archer had groused they would need to load up on 'real food' before reaching the city though, since 'all you can find there are bugs and fish'. As if that was a downside. Rudabeh's stomach growled at the mere thought of her mother's fried clams.
Ractus strode up out of the filmy fog that blanketed the docks. Overhead the sun was starting to burn it off, but they still probably had a few hours of low visibility. It made the usual hectic dockside seem quiet and intimate, as if the hanging clouds softened it. It seemed to carry smells though, and her nose was filled with both the scents of river and city, mingled as they always were at the docks. Muffled, a bell sounded the hour.
"All loaded, sir." The elf said, nodding toward the vessel. "Ostend played hard to get, but he agreed to take us in the end. " he paused and then said, "So, Outsea. Your home, right? I have never been actually, always seemed to miss it. Supposed to be stunning, the art and buildings and all that." He lowered his voice, "A hard place to fight a street battle with this lot."
The soft droplets of rain ping off of Rudabeh's high-crested helmet, running down and around the brow to drip onto the bevor, which promptly funnels it down her collarbones. Gezzerbiel had clearly not designed the armor with the concept of rain in his vocabulary, and he was lucky she didn't mind. Anyone else would be miserable and chaffing in minutes. The silversheen also prevented having to strip the padding and dry it out, lest the interior start to rust away.
"There are some special considerations to take, even before we get to a street battle." She responds to Ractus as the last of the crates are loaded onto the barge. "Which is why I asked to double the usual amount of oil. Everyone will need to keep their steel nearly dripping to keep out all the salt in the air. Doubly so if any are brave enough to visit the depths, but there are a significant population of landlubbers," Her head turns to the pointy-eared captain. "including many of your kind that prefer the water to the trees..." Her head turns back as a porter nearly drops something she is sure she told Irovetti he couldn't bring with him, and she stares at the small marble statue of a cherub before shaking her head in defeat. "Sorry. My point is there is a significant above ground settlement for everyone to spend their pay. In any case, the Outsea Militia routinely dispenses with threats of monsters and brigands, though they sometimes hire adventurers for high-risk jobs. A group of bandits did make the mistake of kidnapping salt mephits for ransom, once. We may be able to talk them into parting with some gold to burn out a goblin nest or two to keep the troops from getting restless. I served as part of the Amphibious Unit for many years and it mostly consisted of chasing off fey and keeping hungry creatures out of grain silos. Underwater, the Council of Generals keeps the peace when they are not trying to out-politic one another. Considering it is composed of powerful merfolk spellcasters for whom water is an extension of their will, immortal sahuagin warriors that have lived in the settlement since it was founded, and two-minded, enigmatic ceratioidi, you can imagine the schemes run long and the occasional scuffles are talked about for decades. Then there are the naga, tritons, sea hags, chuul, gillmen, and skum... they all share the currents somehow." It was clear Rudabeh did not think there would be a "need" for their newly minted soldiers, so confident she was that Outsea could handle its own affairs.
Inhaling through her nose, she embraces the sweet scent of the morning mist, smelling the salt only in memory. "But yes, there's nothing quite like it in the River Kingdoms." She glances to Ractus, then the barge. "How did you convince Ostend to take us on again? I thought he was at wit's end after the fire drake and bandits."
Ractus rubbed his smooth chin, the elf somehow finding time to shave between bartering with Ostend, whipping the Company into shape and taking care of Aurelia. Rudabeh hadn't seen the young girl this morning but Company rumor said Ractus was taking a personal interest in the young sorcerer's recovery.
"Sounds complicated. Complicated places always need soldiers. But you do have a good point, most of our men would be useless underwater." He seems troubled by the idea of leaving Rudabeh alone for long periods of time. "Still, might be a good chance to get some drill in. We might call it a mercenary company, but it is still mostly a random assortment of men. Still, the morale is high after I told them they are being paid by the Pact itself."
"Well, as for Ostend, I found his weakness." The elf said smugly, "He has a weakness for his pilot, and she has a fondness for simple fools. It wasn't hard to get us included in that category. Still, he upped his rates from last time. " The mercenary coughed and went on, "Speaking of costs, what about Irovetti and using your time to get credit all over Daggermark? I'm no expert but I think he is going to leave a bunch of angry debtors in your wake. The man is more trouble then he is worth. Sure we can't just dump him off in a small town somewhere? Gods know he isn't exactly the type to flee on foot."
"You, and they, are no longer true mercenaries, you know. You and the others swore an oath to serve the Pact if I was able to get you the official support of Veleda, and I did." Rudabeh gently corrects him about the language he was using with a sidewards glance. "I know words do not transform men and women overnight, but the special property that changes mercenaries to soldiers, loyalty, begins here." She looks back to the barge. "I intend to make them, and everyone in the River Kingdoms, see that life under the Pact is worth fighting for in the years to come. If we have some success I believe I can secure us some uniforms..."
She wasn't going to brow-beat him about the point, though, and moved on. A hearty chortle escaped her throat about Ostend. "You are going to make a fine politician one day, Ractus. I must keep you on my side for more than one reason it seems." The paladin waves a hand dismissively about Irovetti, seemingly unconcerned. "I made it clear to Vetto that Irovetti does not speak for me, that I am merely his protector. He will spread the word. Hopefully those that gave credit learned a lesson. Regardless, when the debtors come collecting, I will fulfill my oath and defend him as best I can should they resort to violence, and lend him my expertise should they come at him with Daggermark law. But I suspect he will one day be undone by the fact I cannot be everywhere at once, for someone will realize I did not take an oath to avenge him. I am sure he realizes this too and will stay close, which hopefully mitigates the trouble he can cause." She sighs, shaking her head slightly. It was going to be an unsightly mess, whatever happens. "In essence, I agree, but I am bound by my word. I owe him a position in the Pact at some point, Alseta help me in choosing. Besides, he's started to grow on me, and he is quite skilled in magic."
"Tumors grow on you too, Rudabeh."Ractus said, "Right up until they kill you."
Rudabeh had always enjoyed traveling. It often gave one a sense of purpose, of direction both metaphorically and literally. Movement could be a wonderfully calming distraction from ones own problems, the bend in the river and the shifting of the wind. It was freeing, really, to journey forward, leaving entanglements behind, or so the bards often said.
Apparently, they had never had to travel with a mercenary (or were they soldiers?) company. The next two weeks of Rudabeh's lift was a slow, suffocating hell of trivialities and management. It started slow, of course, with such simple things as cargo storage and weekly drill. These Rudabeh had planned for and, in a way, looked forward to. But then her tasks had started to grow. First off, Ractus had announced the Company needed ranks and officers, instead of just an disorderly mass. All well and good, but he seemed to think Rudabeh should come up with the jobs and assigning them.
Then it was the seating arrangements and the arbitration of minor disputes. One one hand, this was literally Rudabeh's calling, to settle out issues. But these were so insignificant, despite the protestations of the litigants (or should one say, combatants?). Things like 'she sang too loud in the morning' or 'he polished his armor too much'. A favorite was a claim that Danngu's accent was too 'distracting'. It was all the usual petty problems of locking so many people in such a confined space, but it was still annoying.
And then there was Irovetti, whole was his own separate legion of problems. At first, he took up a third of the deck with his 'court' of scribes, hangers-on and attendants. Good gods, the man even had a girl to hold a sun shade. Osted had nearly capsized the entire barge, when the former king had started setting up statuary on deck. Even after Rudabeh prevailed on him, he kept up a sullen aristocratic resistance. Every night, when the men gathered around their humble cookfire and bickered about who had to cook, Irovetti dined on his private chef's selections. If he was asked why he couldn't share he rambled about the division between 'management and operations'. Whatever that meant.
So it was with relief that, after 14 days afloat, the watchman at the prow said, "Something ahead, slow her down!"
Ostend, who happened to be piloting shouted back, craning his neck to see over the huddled backs of the soldiers, "Shoals? The river should be deep her, at least for another few miles!"
"No, captain." The woman said, "Not shoals...leaves?"
This was odd enough to bring Ostend from his usual place at the rudder. For a few moments he stared upstream, hand covering his eyes from the mid-day sun's glare. Finally he shouted, "Rudabeh? Come over here, please."
Joining him at the prow, the paladin looked up river as well. The stream shone like liquid glass, each ripple reflecting a cascade of jeweled light. The banks were thickly wooded, with leafy branches reaching out over the water, hungry for the sunlight.
"Look, up ahead." Ostend said, pointing with a rough, worn hand, "Just after the left hand fork comes in."
Rudabeh saw where the main channel spilt in two equal parts. The right hand side looked the same as their current watercourse (if smaller) but the left hand side was....coated in something. The water was covered with floating debris. Leaves, like the sailor had said? No...they were white?
"Normally I'd take the left hand side." Ostend said, "The river runs deeper there, the right hand side meanders into a shallow swamp. But I have no idea what to make of this.."
But his question was soon answered as the floating mat seemed headed for them. Even as Rudabeh watched she saw some of the flat objects get stuck on branches or plaster to rocks. The entire area was being coated in a thin layer of...what? Still, whatever it was seemed light and not dangerous.
Finally, one drifted close enough for Ostend to spear it out of the water with a gaff. By now all the soliders and sailors were at the barge's rail, peering into the water or trying to fish out one of the strange objects.
Then Ostend handed it to Rudabeh and she could see what it was. It was a very wet...piece of thick paper. It was some kind of handbill? One side was smooth and off-white, already stained from it's water passage. The other side however was inked and colored, and somehow resistant to water. Most paper Rudabeh knew would instantly shed any ink if dipped in water. Outsea had a very special formulas that would hold when submerged but those were rare and expensive. Magic ink?
Well whoever knew, they weren't shy with it. The entire paper was as thoroughly illuminated as any Abadaran holy book. An intricate geometric border trace the whole page, sweeping squares and circles. In the center of the page was blocks of text in a number of languages, many of which Rudabeh did not know. One was in Common however.
Over her shoulder Ractus read, in slow tones of surprise, the words.
"Greetings traveler or resident of these wilds lands. The time of change and End is upon us, and all you once knew is soon to be swept away by the One Who Comes. Come, and join us in ushering in a new Age! Set aside your burdens and take up, with joyful heart, our communal labor!"
The elf raised an eyebrow, "What in the name of Silverpeak is this?"
Rudabeh had traveled alone for years, with the occasional companion going in the same direction, or performing a job with an appointed local. Even with the constant upkeep of her armor and equipment she had plenty of time to fish, or read, or strike up deep conversations about the political reality of the River Kingdoms with everyone from simple-minded sailors to river captains hailing from far-off nobility.
Now she worked full-time, even over-time, working as a clerk and babysitting. She agreed with Ractus they should have ranks and duties within their unit, though it was too late before she realized the "captain" had foisted THAT duty onto her. He was certainly back to his old self since the healing, for better or worse. At least, she told herself, she would be able to pick roles that suited everyone as well as and give promotions based on level-headedness and integrity rather than combat potential.
Arbitrating the squabbling masses was starting to get exhausting, and she prayed to Alseta every morning and every night to instill some patience and understanding into these soldiers. Alseta must have been busy, or perhaps, the paladin mused, her goddess saw it as Rudabeh's job anyway.
Irovetti gave her the usual amount of headache, and she thought she had pestered him into sharing some of cooking-golem's expertise with everyone until only she received some delicious-smelling catfish one night. Knowing the irreparable damage it would do to her reputation if she were caught dining on Irovetti's food while the rest of the group suffered on slop, she took one (heavenly) bite so she could truthfully tell Irovetti how it was and dumped the rest it into the communal stew pot to add some flavor to tonight's.... whatever it was.
Somehow, perhaps through Alseta's grace, Rudabeh found herself a moment of quiet. She had found a create on the deck that made the perfect place to write while standing, and she had just set out all of her writing tools. The book on civil proceedings she was authoring with Teken was off to a slow start, though it seemed the ifrit soul spent a great deal of time thinking about it while she was tending to other duties. They had debated, written down, and expanded on a great number of ideas, but had yet to actually start putting together anything that could be coherently called "a book".
She was about to fill her laps-lazuli inlaid pen when a watchman called out, immediately drawing her attention for a moment. There was no panic in the watchman's voice, but she still didn't like the way he yelled. Materials were packed and safely in her bag by the time ostend called her up to the bow.
Raising a hand above her eyes, the paladin's shining vambrace most likely blinds some bird a mile above them, but at least it lets her see down the river. The floating mass of white causes her face to scrunch up in absolute confusion.
She is among the throng on the railings when the first wet bundle is fished from the river, marveling with the rest at its ability to not only stay together, but retain ink.
"My first suspicion would be this is a fey trick." Rudabeh begins after Ractus reads off part of the sprawling block of text. "But this is far too much effort, most of the fey I have met would have gotten bored just making the paper. In any case, this event they're espousing doesn't seem hostile, and unless the rudder gets gummed up with paper I don't see it interfering with us taking your preferred route downriver, Captain. We can pass them by, and if they've blocked the River I will be pleased to remind them of the River Freedoms." She addresses Ostend, looking at the outpouring of paper begin parted by the barge. "You would think whomever is releasing these must be close, given the density of the... floaters." Flyers just did not seem like the right word to use.
Ostend nodded but Ractus did say, "Who knows how many they are dumping into the river. That said, we didn't see many downstream so perhaps they only recently began. You'd think a few would have been turned up by the fishers and such, if this had been going on long."
The sailors don't think the mat of rippling paper will effect the river-worthiness of their craft, so the Company ventures onwards. They take the left fork of the river, curious what they will see.
At first, nothing but more 'floaters'. Soon the barge is cutting through a literal layer of them, leaving behind a wake of tumbling and churned paper, totally covering the surface of the river. Their punting poles are plastered with the things, sticker then the most clinging mud. The poles became unwieldly and cumbersome, engendering many curses from the struggling sailors.
In her mind Teken, whose day it was, said 'I think you took those words too lightly, Rudabeh. They had the ring of religious fervor, a feeling that can be...misleading to the unwise. Such problems often only reveal themselves as petty issues like these papers but quickly morph into something far more substantial. Be on your guard.'
They slowly toil upstream, the tension of the crew and soldiers mounting. At every turn or bend they all glance forward, hoping to see something out of the ordinary. For a long time they do not, just miles of empty river-banks, with layers of floaters coating every rock and branch midstream. Most seemed to be the same age, reflecting Ractus's guess this was a recent phenomena. Rudabeh wonders if it will effect the local fish habitat, if it goes on for a long time. Would the suffocating layer kill off the plants?
Such long-term thoughts are driven out of her mind when they round a knee of the slow river and finally see....something. Many somethings actually.
A few hundred yards ahead the trees have been cleared both banks, leaving behind fields of jagged and cracked stumps. The ground has been churned by many feet, crushing all plants and undergrowth to a muddy paste. Among the field of stumps, many small buildings had been run up, low and long. Most seem to be workshops of some kind, with dark smoke pouring from chimneys, staining the bright blue sky. A few buildings are built right along the water's edge, bigger and sturdier, with half-finished mill wheels sticking into the current. Small figures run this way and that, with the entire complex looking as busy as an anthill. At this distance it is hard to make out details but the people seem very small and with brightly colored hair.
Then, to her shock, Rudabeh sees these people are damming the river. A long, low wall of felled trees already nearly spans the entire width of the watercourse, cleverly curved to take the pressure of the water. It reminds Rudabeh of a massive beaver damn, seemingly made of mud and sticks. Water pours over the top in a few, obviously well chosen, places. Along the side sluicegates are being built, obviously planned to accommodate mill-races. It has the look of a industrial complex and, judging by their achievements so far, will completely block the river from boat traffic.
Rudabeh keeps watch on the bow, peering down the river for signs of anything other than a seemingly endless stream of paper. With every bend of the river she grows more concerned. This operation, whatever it was, clearly had more resources and time than she was comfrotable with considering this particular stretch was supposed to be relatively uninhabited.
Perhaps you are right. She thinks to Teken as the stream of white glistens off the summar sun. But the River Kingdoms is an accepting place of religions, and as long as they are following the River Freedoms and behaving in general there will be little need to interefere.
She is wondering how long it would be before the local druids notice this large-scale despoilation of the water and take matters into their own hands when something different enters her view downstream.
Furrowing her brow and leaning over the railing of the bardge to get a better look, the undine is so taken by surprise she lets out an uncharacteristic and disgruntled uttering- "What is this!?" She nearly yells at the sight not of the small town being built, but the structure in the distance. "These fools are damming the river!" Disblief and anger are mixed in equal parts in her voice as she grips the gunwale, piercing sapphire eyes switching focus to sweep the banks. These colors... the sizes... fey? No, everything is too well built and there is a clear plan. It must be gnomes. She thinks to both herself and Teken. This goes beyond a violation of the River Freedoms. If Hanspur takes notice he could flood this entire region just to demolish that dam and punish its builders... he's done it before and everyone down river would suffer for it. Rudabeh explains her thoughts to Teken as she composes herself, turning away from the railing.
"Ractus!" She shouts to grab the elf's attention, waving him other to walk alongside her as she makes for the aft. "I want the company in fighting kit and on deck in standby. Assemble a small team to join me on a sortie. I will serve these... communal laborers a cease and desist in the name of the Pact, as well as instruct them to disassemble the dam. If they do not comply, we will destroy it ourselves." Rudabeh says with a hardened tone, her armor rattling as she makes for Ostend's position and leaving Ractus to assembling the soldiers.
"Captain, they've built a dam and are putting the entire river at risk. I think it's a group of gnomes." Rudabeh reports without wasting a breath. "If you wish to continue on this route I will exercise the authority of the Pact of Years that they cease construction and place a demand for its dismantling. Compliance will be either forced or we shall do it ourselves."
In her mind she can feel Teken's initial startlement at Rudabeh's stern reaction to the sight of the settlement and the on-going dam. Still he recovers quickly adding, Why would anyone wish to block the river anyway, regardless of the law? Surely there is enough water to go around? There is no way to hoard it, the infernal stuff seems everywhere.
Meanwhile, Ractus looks surprised when the usually calm and serene Rudabeh, whom the elf has watched handle both mad clerics and blood-thirsty mobs with equanimity, react so hotly to the obstruction ahead.
"It's just a dam, Rudabeh." he said mildly but then he caught her eye and nodded sharply, "Of course, Commander." He turned and roared at the men, "Attention! I want every man and woman on deck in five minutes, dressed for action or you'll be on cook duty for a week! Hurry up, time for you to earn your wages!" In a moment he is striding up the barge deck, shouting orders and, where needed, kicking a few behinds into motion.
Ostend peers upstream at the still low pile of logs and earth. "They haven't been at it for very long. The reservoir behind it shouldn't be too big yet. If you give us a warning when you break it down, we should be able to ride the wave. I'll take her behind some rocks, break up the torrent." The half-elf pauses and then said, "Gnomes can be weird, Rudabeh. They might not take kindly to you destroying their work. Stay awake out there, gnomes are not always as harmless as they look."
In short order (although not quick enough to match some other mercenary groups Rudabeh has seen) most of the Company are on deck, bearing a motely collection of armors and weapons ranging from mail coats and halberds to bucklers and dueling rapiers. Some day she'd have to get around to some standardization.
Ostend brings the barge close to shore behind some large, river-washed stones. As they fiddle with the gang-plank, a few soldiers trot up, obviously part of her sortie.
Litta and Silvui come up first, the woman pulling out string for her bow while the Varisian is peering up the river. The slim man seems confused at all the hubbub nd says, "What's the big deal? It's just a damn, Rudabeh. In most countries they want the people to build stuff like this. Towns are easier to tax. Aren't you all about promoting common good and stuff?"
Behind him looms the quiet Dannagu, wielding his big glaive-like weapon. In his shadow is Draze, one of her few trusted veterans. The old man seems in better spirits these days as Ractus's healing and improved mood. He nods to Rudabeh and says, "Captain Ractus says I am to go with you, he'll stay here and command the reserve. He wants to know if you'll have a signal for real trouble?"
At the barge's edge Marsh, the skilled navigator shouts, "All's well to go ashore, Commander. Good luck taking down that... abomination." She spits into the river for luck, an old Hanspur token of respect for the water rat. "Building a dam...what is the world coming to. Can't be locals."
"I agree." Rudabeh responds to Ostend's warning about not underestimating the gnomes. "I have already put the company on alert, they will be ready if hostilities arise. Alseta willing it will not come to that, hopefully I can get them to come to an understanding." Her hopes were fairly low, but perhaps she could get them to see reason once she explains not only the illegality, but the divine danger of damming the river.
She leaves Ostend to instructing the sailors, walking by the motley crew of the Pact's first and only company of soldiers assemble on deck. It was humble beginnings, but this could be the first time the authority of the River Kingdoms was enforced by the Pact through something other than diplomatic pressure or tariffs. They are fine and noble methods with established countries, but out here in the wilds, with no kings or bandit lords... it was time to show the River Freedoms extended to the entirety of the lands.
Litta and Silvui find Rudabeh hunched over her writing materials and a piece of parchment, her brow furrowed in focus as her pen rapidly sweeps across the page. "Yes, this is the opposite of the common good." The paladin says without looking up. There are a few more moments of silencing punctuated by rapid scribbling as Rudabeh signs her name at the bottom of the writ. She produces her signet ring and presses it into some ink-soaked velvet before stamping it on the page as well. With a sigh of finality, sand is sprinkled over the document and she turns to look sadly at Silvui. "It would be one thing if this was a toll gate. It would merely be a violation of the River Freedoms. But by damming the river, this community is risking the wrath of Hanspur. Blocking waterways is an affront to him, and when he notices, he will surely flood this entire region to punish the builders."
She turns back to the document, quickly rolling it up with two hands. "It has happened before. The effects were not localized. This dam is putting everyone downriver in danger of the aftereffects of divine retribution and must be removed." The prior anger at the gnomes' reckless actions had drained out of her while penning the cease and desist letter, and she started to focus on approaching the matter as even-handedly as she could.
Rudabeh finds herself touching the Iron Key at her side as Draze and Dannagu approaches, and she turns to address the veteran. "Three short peels of a horn if we need him to mobilize the rest of the company."
The Sixth Peak slung over her shoulder and held in place by a leather strap with one hand, and her writ in the other, she waits with the others for the gangplank to be hoisted into place. Gesturing a farewall to Marsh, the gesture changes to get her squad moving off the barge and on shore. "If they are locals, they should be ashamed" She says to both herself and the squad.
Dannagu gestures, holding a curled ebony horn taken from some beast Rudabeh had never seen before. The big man was full of mysteries but the undine had no time for that now.
In short order Rudabeh and her hand-picked team of volunteers are tromping up the river shore. After only a few minutes they leave the green gloom of the over-hanging elms and beeches and enter the empty, clear-cut landscape. They have to take care not to trip over the stumps littering the ground although Rudabeh notices there is little waste, few branches and leaves left behind. The gnomes might be felling the entire area but at least they are efficient about it. And yet, the stumps themselves are not cleanly cut, like with saws or even axes. They are twisted and jagged, or irregular heights as if they had been broken off by huge hands. A few are black and scorched...struck by lighting?
At one Draze pauses and sniffs the stump and then nods, "Explosive." This strange word lingers in the air so the old veteran adds, "I've seen it in Numeria. Black stuff that blows up when it gets hot. Sort of like that gunpowder stuff but stronger."
If the local druids weren't already upset, surely the gnomes using fiery blasts to rip trees out of the ground would raise some hackles.
As she expected most of the stumps are still green, with a few leaking sap. This is all very fresh, and whatever the gnomes are up to, they haven't been here for very long. Weeks, perhaps.
As they draw closer, the little camp becomes more clear. There are no houses or tents, but long communal dwellings that remind Rudabeh of barracks or perhaps the hostels she had seen in Taldor during her youth. Cheap and able to hold a great quantity of people, at the cost of privacy.
Few people seem to be inside at the moment, for the whole area is alive with gnomes, busy as bees in the summertime. They are everywhere, and each one busy as could be. Some are planing huge logs down with chisels and axes, while others are stacking smaller branches by size. Another group are tending huge fires topped with cauldrons of bubbling pitch, stirring the sticky mixture to the right consistency. Along the waterside Rudabeh watches yet another crew dumping in bales of soon-to-be floaters into the rushing stream, using long poles to push the paper deeper into the current.
While each gnome is of different height and their hair color ranges from icy white to vivid orange, they are all wearing the same outfit. Plain gray robes, with yoked hoods, cinched at the waist with simple rope. It is a very basic, almost crude outfit quite at odds with their obvious industriousness and technological prowess.
As Rudabeh comes up, one gnome finally notices her, glancing up from his busy work. He stands up and waves in a friendly fashion toward the armed and armored group of soldiers, apparently unconcerned about the assorted weaponry. The young gnome darts off and soon has returned with another robed gnome, this one a bit taller and older, with swirls of blue hair.
Blue Hair quickly gathers a small procession together and hurries toward Rudabeh, all of them smiling and waving. At her side Silvui mutters, "Well, they don't seem [i] nervous about us. You sure they are breaking the law? Criminals tend to...wave less."
As the gnomes come up, Blue Hair takes the lead and squeaks, "Ah, you found us! Borther Barxis said some would come but I don't think anyone expected helpers this early. Welcome, welcome!" He smiles again and added, "I am brother Zuatun. We are honored you are here to be part of the Change."
At the last word allt e other gnomes smile and bob their heads in some sort of homage.
"And what are your names, fellow brothers and sisters?"
In her mind Teken said, [i]Ah...a cult. They seem the same no matter what the Plane.
Rudabeh makes a mental note to ask Dannagu where he got the horn from at a later date. It was very likely an excellent story, and she enjoyed hearing the skald's tales.
She is trying to decide if the druids would simply give a warning or just decide to kill everyone for clear-cutting the forest when Draze identifies that many of the trees had been exploded. "Thank you, Draze." Rudabeh intones as she imagines an entire tree blowing up in a billowing of smoke just as she had seen one of Irovetti's pistols explode. Awful, chaotic methods. "If they are using unnatural and overly destructive means to fell trees, the druids are going to make their life very unpleasant. If Hanspur does not drown them all first. These gnomes might as well be swimming naked through a jellyfish school." The undine meets the strange looks with a smile. "It's an Outsea exprssion. I will try to slip in some more so you can be fully prepared for our arrival."
Approaching the settlement, Rudabeh is no invasive nor loud, though it was hard not to be noticed when you're wearing a shining set of silversheen armor and followed by heavily armed companions. She was not able to observe much of the settlement before someone noticed her, and she keenly watched them happily make their way over.
"I don't think they are aware of the gravity and potential consequences of their actions. Hopefully all we will need to do is educate them." The paladin responds to Silvui's statement. He was right, though, there was little guilt here. That was probably very good or very bad- either they would conform to local laws and customs, or consider themselfs above said laws.
When the gnome approaches to offer greeting Rudabeh carefully and slowly squats in place to bring herself down to his height, her expertly jointed armor slowing her movements but not impeding them. She places the hand containing the writ on one knee to steady herself while the other hold her sword on her shoulder. "Greetings, Borther Zuatun. I am Rudabeh of Outsea, paladin of Alseta and a representative of the Pact of Years. The soldiers behind me are Draze, Silvui, Litta, and Dannagu. I regret to inform you we are not here to join your community, as welcoming as it is. I must urgently speak with the leader of this community, or one who can speak for all present, about the dam you are constructing., and ask you take us to them." Her voice was calm, soothing, and full of patience. She had started to gently extend the olive branch, or as they say in Outsea, the kelp basket.
As long as they are amenable to the Law they can claim as many outlandish ideas as they please. Rudabeh responds to Teken in her mind. So far they seemed a friendly sort of cult, at least.
Mentally Teken scoffs, not that Rudabeh is surprised. In their ongoing debate/discussion over a set of laws for the River Kingdoms, they have butted heads many times over the role of religion. The ifrit wasn't really for or against any faith in particular, but he was dead set on the idea that any given polity should have one faith. His ideal seemed to be a one religion state but with no particular zealotry. In fact he seemed to abhor fanaticism of any stripe. The former paladin grudgingly forgave Rudabeh her own beliefs since they seemed to coincide with laws, but lately just went into a silent funk when the issue came up.
Perhaps, He mentally said, But such cults rarely consider man's laws very valid.
The serene mask on Zuatun's face flickers briefly when Rudabeh makes her wishes clear, but the break is brief and soon the gnome is smiling again.
"Of course. Brother Barxis said others like you might arrive, those who have not yet seen the Signs or Heard the Promise." The capital letters are quite audible. "Of course, I will take you to him."
A pause and then, "Must you bring your weapons? This is a place of peace and community, of working together to greet the new Age."
Zuatun soon leads them deeper into the little complex, edging the lumberyard. Most of the gnomes stop their work to watch the undine and her allies pass, many of them waving and smiling. Shortly though most return to their labor, apparently quite intent on working as fast as possible.
They pass the edge of the dam, where huge tree trunks have been thrust into the shore to make a foundation. Empty sections, clearly meant to be a spillway someday, are dug into the ground. Gnomes run to and fro, carrying baskets of earth and rock to pack around the lumber. It is an impressive project and clearly done with some grand plan in place. Behind the barrier, a small pond is already forming, the river being calm to a expanse of still water.
Soon they reach a very odd building, just upstream of the dam. It is a long row of compartments or cubicles, much like animal stalls. Covered with a roof and protected by one wall, the other side is open, allowing easy access. Each stall is filled neatly with an elegant writing desk, stacked with paper. The source of the flyers is finally revealed.
To Rudabeh's surprise however, there is not a row of busy gnomes, transcribing onto the paper. Instead each desk has its own quill, which floats quite free of any hand, and does the writing on its own. A pretty bit of magic, if a bit wasteful.
Standing nearby is an older gnome with curly green hair the color of fresh moss. His robes are the same as everyone else's and yet seem a bit softer and better made. A battered old cane is clutched in his grip, which he bends over slightly. He is busy peering at one of the desks when Zuatuan clears his throat.
"Brother Barxis?" He says gently.
The green-haired gnome turns toward them, revealing a cragged and weathered face. Two wide eyes, covered with filmy whiteness look like dirty milk bottles. Still, the gnome is not completely blind for he blinks at Rudabeh and cranes his head upwards. Then he smiles.
"Our first recruits! Excellent. Even I I had not hoped for such a quick response." Beaming he goes on, "Your labor will be sorely needed, my friends. I am Brother Barxis, and I welcome you to you new home."
Silvui coughs slightly, looking a bit embarrassed.
Rudabeh does not take the bait to ask about the Signs or the Promise. While she was personally interested in this cult's philosophy, whatever they believed was no excuse in the face of the Law. This was business, and she was to conduct herself professionally. Academic questions had to wait.
"I have no intention of turning weapons on a peaceful and cooperative community." Rudabeh responds truthfully to his request they disarm, and she hopes they stay that way.
Stepping through the muddy and well-worn ground of the complex, Rudabeh eyes the working gnomes. It was like children playing with a dead lionfish, unaware of the danger they were putting themselves in. The dam in particular draws her extended gaze. She was no engineer and had no idea how to begin dismantling it. The paladin hoped the gnomes would be cooperative and redesign their plans so she wouldn't have to call in the rest of the company to tear it down.
Spillways and furrows impress her, and she is reminded of the great locks and canals surrounding Outsea, cleverly constructed with engineering and magic both to conserve precious saltwater while also allowing river and traffic to flow unabated. The gnome's plans paled in comparison, of course, but it reminded her of home.
The floaters factory answers at least one mystery, though she was disappointed this prodigious magic was being used to trash the river rather than effectively manage the dam.
Laying eyes on Brother Barxis, Rudabeh is a bit shocked at the gnome's advanced age. By this stage in their lives most gnomes had succumbed to The Bleaching, and she had seen her fair few waste away in various states of melancholy. Many she had seen had resorted to a life of crime not for the money, but in an attempt to stave off their degenerative condition. They chose death from her blade over wasting away...
Perhaps Barxis' cult was the latest in a careful plan to live as long as possible, or maybe it was something else.
"Greetings Brother Braxis," Rudabeh begins with a bow of her head and ends with her kneeling down onto the straw-stew floor, "I am Rudabeh of Outsea, Paladin of Alseta and a representative of the Pact of Years. I am afraid the dam your community is constructing violates the third River Freedom "Walk Any Road, Float Any River". It is also a danger to both yourselves and the surrounding area. Hanspur has flooded entire communities for less, and it is only a matter of time before his attention turns to you." Her hand extends the carefully rolled writ to the elderly gnome. "This writ contains a Cease and Desist order outlining the breach of law and how it can be rectified. In short, you you must immediately halt construction of your dam and dismantle it until river traffic is once again possible." Rudabeh's voice was even and explanatory, as if she had no personal stake in the matter and was merely giving legal advice. After all, it hadn't come time to enforce the law yet. "The waterwheels, sluices, and irrigation are fine. You can take from the river, but you cannot block it as you have done."
CEASE AND DESIST NOTICE
BY THE AUTHORITY OF THE PACT OF YEARS
To Whom it May Concern:
Under the provision of Walk Any Road, Float Any River, the third law in a collection known as "The River Freedoms", codified by the Outlaw Council and recognized/enforced by The Pact of Years, I formally notify you to cease and desist all activities that may result in blocking river traffic, or irreversibly retarding natural water flow.
Furthermore, The Pact of Years hereby demands the immediate restoration of river traffic through any means necessary, including but not limited to destruction of any blockages along the river.
Be advised- if immediate action is not taken to fulfill the conditions outlined in this writ, The Pact of Years will directly pursue the enforcement of Walk Any Road, Float Any River, which will result in the complete destruction of any blockages of river traffic. The Pact of Years carries no liability in any form to damages suffered to property or people should it be forced to clear the aforementioned blockages due to non-compliance with the law.
Sincerely,
Rudabeh of Outsea
(Seal)
Brother Braxis takes the offered writ carefully and peers at it, the paper nearly touching his nose. After a few moment he smiles, shrugs and says politely, "Brother Zuatun, could you please read this for me. My eyes are not what they once were."
The other gnome take the paper and gives Rudabeh a dirty look, as if to judge her for forcing an old half-blind gnome to read. As Brother Zuatun reads through Rudabeh's writ, Brother Braxis listens politely, a beatific smile on his face, apparently absorbing the paladin's words but not concerned by them.
In her mind Teken grunts, Told you they would be trouble.
To Rudabeh's surprise her quick ears also hear some talk behind her, where her 'elite' team waits for orders.
"Sounds like Chelish legal-talk to me." Silvui says, obviously uncomfortable. "It's just a dam, does the Commander have to be such a stickler?"
"She likes order and discipline." Draze says mildly "A nice change of pace if you ask me."
Silvui snorts and mutters something about having known plenty of undispilinced fighters.
'Warriors." Draze says dismissively, "And that is all they will ever be without order. Warriors win fights but soldiers win battles. And you don't get soldiers without discipline."
They quiet as Brother Zuatun comes to the end of his reading. He rolls up the writ, none too gently, and hands it back to brother Braxis, who holds it carefully.
For a long moment he looks at the kneeling undine before saying, "Thank you, Rudabeh of Outsea. Your courteous words and manner do you, and your Pact, credit. I have known many law-keepers who would have already resorted to clubs, or worse, to achieve their ends. I thank you for your restraint."
A quick shrug then as the green-haired gnome goes on, "I however must decline your request." The milky-eyed figure holds up a wrinkled, aged hand, "This is not out of malice, of course. I wish only peace and happiness to all. I merely know more then you, about the true state of things."
He hands back the writ adding, "You speak of Hanspur, and the Pact, of the River Kingdoms as they are. Meanwhile I, and my community, are living in the River Kingdom to come." His reedy voice deepens, becoming resonant, almost commanding, "I have seen the Signs of the Change, a new Age and new Gods. We must prepare ourselves, ready us and the land to for this change. It may be painful but the rewards will be great."
Then he seems to shrink back down to an elderly gnome, "I thank you for you attention however, and your kindness. I think, perhaps, you have the wisdom to leave your current path and join a better vision of the future."
I never doubted you, Rudabeh responds to the voice in her head. but I at least had to give them a chance to surprise both of us.
The words of the team outside catch her ears even behind the guards of her helmet. She wishes she could agree with Draze and impress among Silvui the importance of discipline and following orders. It meant not only the difference between victory and defeat in battle, but of life and death under a commanding officer.
Rudabeh does not blink when Braxis gracefully refutes the writ, even going so far as to hand it back to her. She was, after all, expecting this, but she had not given up on the possbility, however bleak, of compromise. "The commitment to your cause and the future well-being of your people is admirable, but whatever it is you have seen that will come ot pass has not yet occured. My concerns are of the present you and I are both in now, and in the present I am a paladin of Alseta. I am duty-bound by my oaths and goddess both to enforce the laws of this land. I must do this, and the dam will come down." She says with the same deepening voice the gnome had used earlier, her words filled with divine conviction.
"So please," she continues, shifting her leg slightly as it started to go numb from taking her entire weight on one knee. "I ask you to reconsider." Rudabeh knew she was about to regret her next request, but she needed another angle to convince the gnome. "Tell me of this vision, and the future you see for this community, and perhaps we can come to a compromise. As long as river traffic can continue, I may even be able to assist you."
The paladin braced herself for whatever crazy prophetic vision the gnome had seen- true, true to him, or not. Having seen her share of visions lately, Rudabeh felt herself in a good position to judge.
Brother Braxis smiles again although this time there was a hint of asperity and condescension behind it, like a teacher dealing with a thick but loved pupil.
"Child, child..." he says finally, "If you knew what I knew, you would not focus on the present. Would you expect a beggar, who is invited to a great feast the next day, to enjoy and savor his usual nightly scraps. No! Of course not, you would expect him to focus on the great things to come. And so it is with us. We are preparing for the feast, not worrying about our worn bones."
There is a pause as Brother Zuatuan bows his head (after giving Rudabeh a dirty look). The old gnome pauses and then turns toward the dam, but obviously not seeing it, looking past it.
"I have been blessed with the Sight since my youth." Braxis finally says, "Glimpses of the future, of what may be. I do not know why. Some whim of Desna or Pharasma, perhaps?" A slight shrug, "In any case, as I have grown old and the world around me dim, my visions have grown sharper, clearer. Some were useful, many not. Such is the way of visions."
Then the diminutive green haired figure turned back to Rudabeh, the crane gripped tightly in his small fist. His voice is tight and strong. "Then I saw...the Signs. A great promise that a new god was rising in the River Kingdoms, to sweep away the old and to make the land anew. It would be a great tribulation, as you would expect, but out of it might be born order and hope. We came north to help build that new land. This dam, this community, is the seed of that hope."
Slowly he deflates, leaning heavily on his stick. "But I do not expect you to understand, child. You are still worrying the usual scraps. But for boats, I do plan on eventually adding locks to the dam, but that is the last and most complicated step. It will take time, of course."
Rudabeh watches Braxis carefully now, looking for signs mistruth. The aversion of gaze, the dilating pupils, the small, subtle signs of lies... but saw none. This gnome had seen something, just like the girl whose eyes had burned out in Daggermark. This was happening everywhere in the River Kingdoms, now? How many had seen these visions? If they could somehow put them all together, maybe...
For the moment, she ignores the matter of the dam, even though it was fairly clear where that matter was headed.
"In a dark crypt, a white robed man with a torch watches an ancient stone coffin tremble in the center of an equally ancient room." Rudabeh says suddenly in a clear, unwavering voice to the old gnome after he deflates once more. She tries not to imagine the actual scene. It still makes her head hurt. "What else have you seen, Brother Braxis? What are these Signs? And what cost did you pay to see them?"
A sudden silence falls over the knot of people when Rudabeh speaks of the tomb and her own visions. Draze and Silvui's debate falls quiet as both of them slowly realize when the paladin's words entail. Then there is a small soft clunk as Braxis's stick hits the ground, having fallen out of suddenly unsteady hands.
The old gnome wheels on Rudabeh directly, milky eyes widening. "Then you have seen!" he exclaims, face a mixture of surprise, fear and anticipation. At his side Brother Zuatuan loosk entirely at sea, apparently unprepared to bring Rudabeh into his theological geography. He settles for reverently retrieving brother Braxis's stick but the older gnome waves him off.
"Then you know..." Braxis went on, staring at Rudabeh, as if by force of will he can push back the shades obscuring his vision, "You know of the other Signs. Of the world in motion, of people tumbling toward a new Age without guidance, without preparation. We must make the road ready, Rudabeh! You of all people should know this! You have seen..."
He recovers himself slightly, taking the stick from Brother Zuatuan. "If you have seen...why do you bother with these matters of dams and laws? You should be doing your part...for I think you are a bigger part of this then I." Now Brother Zuatuan looks bewildered and more then a little afraid.
"But if you ask...if you think...one who has seen....we could remove the damn." Then the gnome seems to smile ever so slightly, the barest hint of a twinkle around his elfin features. "But what about the monster that lives in our new lake?"
Rudabeh notes the sudden silence from outside. She had hoped the group was too busy talking amongst themselves to notice she was letting a great and terrible secret out, but soldiers were some of the most gossip-hungry beings to exist- especially when it came to their superiors. There would need to be talk later about what they heard.
The paladin noisily shifts her weight about as Braxis' shock manifests before her, uncomfortable with the sudden importance the old gnome was heaping upon her. Though her limpid eyes keep his gaze, she wishes to look away and not accept his words in an effort to maintain a greater level of humility.
Yet, she cannot deny that the gods had seemingly chosen her for something. Veleda thought it, too, and she was no longer able to deny it. It seems I was part of the cult all along. She thinks dryly, though with a humorous intent, to Teken. In the end, she decides not to address her own importance in the visions.
"I am doing my part." Rudabeh responds calmly in the face of Braxis' fever and Zuatuan's confusion. "Just as you guide your people in their preparations, I too am guided by one with greater sight and wisdom than my own. It may be my home, but I have been sent to Outsea for what I can only assume is a purpose." She smiles, sure of her next words. "You say we tumble with no guidance or preparation, but The Pact of Years is not standing idly by. That is why, outside of my personal oaths, I care for dams and laws in the name of the Pact. The order and structures we have now shall be a scaffold for building a grand future, not an obstacle to impede our survival."
Part of her wanted to ask more about these Signs, but she felt close to reaching a deal and did not want to introduce any doubt in her position as a fellow... believer. It was the first time something good had come of the visions and she wasn't aboit to spoil it.
The undine looks amused at this talk of a monster in a lake, black eyebrows rising past the edge of her visor. "There... is a monster in your lake?" She asks with trepidation, hoping this was not some sort of metaphor. "If it is troubling you and needs slain, I have dealt with a fair few monsters. I can offer hands to assist in dismantling the dam and swords to put down monsters alike, if you will please explain further."
Teken mentally sniffed in her mind, I hope not. I'm an officer of the law, not an imposter taking advantage of misguided delusions. For the first time Rubabdeh wondered if the former ifrit in her armor was an actual atheist. Awkward.
To her surprise Braxis also seemed relived by the change of topic to more prosaic matters, at least by River Kingdom standards. Only in Rudabeh's home could a submerged monster be considered a minor matter. It helped that she had an entire armed Company at her back, if it came to it.
"You may think us slightly mad," Brother Braxis said, "But we did not choose this place at random. My visions....my more usual ones suggested a beast lived in this part of the river. A beast that may enjoy and sleep in a deeper lake. That is one reason we built our damn here, to help lull the creature."
The elderly gnome gestured with his gnarled walking stick at the smooth, still water. "I am sorry to say none of us have seen the beast. We have left cows and sheep out by the water's edge however, they were vanished the next morning. We hope that out offerings keep it stated and too lazy to hunt other, more active prey."
Behind her Draze let out a breath and said quietly, "Well, that only narrows it down to several hundred types of monsters." Rudabeh couldn't argue, she knew countless creatures, both mundane and magical, that would happily snack on a sheep. It would be something as simple as a alligator all the way up to another mobongo. Her ribs creaked at the memory of the giant frog body-slamming her.
Then Brother Braxis turned, "You really think the damn was unwise? We are not from these lands but...well...it seemed a good way to found a community." he almost sounds contrite. Clearly Rudabeh's revelations had shook the gnomish prophet to his very core.
Misguided? These visions are real, I have personally seen them. Whether or not they are of divine origin, the gods ARE interested in them. Rudabeh responds to Teken's rebuffing of what she thought was a pretty good joke. In any case, we can speak of this later. She turns the conversation wit hthe voice in her head aside to focus on material matters.
"I am no stranger to living in waters with mystical beings that protect a group at a cost." The undine comments, knowing full well that Danglosa claims a random sentient being in Outsea at every year, supposedly to fuel part of the magic that keeps the lake habitable. "So no, I do see the practicality in the decision. Though if you are looking for safety, I would recommmend striking an accord with the local druids instead."
The paladin turns her head to cast a wary eye back at the critic's section that believes they are out of earshot. While Draze's sarcasm is amusing, it is not very diplomatic. "Hanspur is Lord and Master of these waters." She says as Braxis turns to her, shifting her gaze back to the gnome. "If you dam the river, he will notice, and he will flood the area to destroy it with little regard for anyone's lives or what happens downstream. That is if his followers, which are many, do not put your community to the torch for, in their view, deflining the river and violating the River Freedoms. I know it is difficult after you have put so much effort into constructing it, but the dam is a danger to yourself and everyone downriver."
She smiles, though. "It was a good way to found a community, and a community you have. It was not the dam that built it, though, but you and yours. You can still make your lake elsewhere and take from the river to fill it, but you cannot impede the natural flow of the river."
"In any case, we will see to this monster if you wish it gone. We can ambush it at night when it comes to the shore to feed on its offering." Rudabeh offers, already forming a plan in her mind to draw out, surprise, surround, the defeat the creature with the company at her back.
Teken, for once, lets Rudabeh have the last word but she can feel his mental snort. Clearly he is less impressed with her visions. She wonders if she Alseta, or some messenger of her goddess, spoke to her while she wore the armor...would Teken be part of the event?
Braxis shrugs at the idea of druids and Rudabeh wonders what the problem is. Most druids and gnomes are chaotic enough to get along. Then again, this community lacked most of the ramshackle and helter-skelter aspect of gnomish villagers. Perhaps his leadership gave the normally scattered brained people a bit of direction?
Braxis sniffs a bit when Rudabeh says Hanspur is the lord of the local waters but doesn't say anything out loud, which suits Rudabeh fine. One did not need to worship Hanspur to recognize the power of the River Rat. Even Irovetti had never tried to dam a river.
Finally he says musingly, "We can adjust the dam, perhaps creating a smaller pool in that meadow upstream." Brother Zuatuan looks on in disbelief as his leader, his prophet, seemingly backs down in favor of this outsider's views.
"But Brother Braxis.." he says, voice choked, 'We have done so much work, the others.."
Braxis shakes his head, "The others will understand, once I explain it to them. We should be thanking Rudabeh, not complaining. She might have just saved our lives." The older gnome turns back to the undine, "Do you require any assistance from us, besides the bait? Our changes to the dam will dismiss the pool, so I think removing this beast will be the best way to move forward."
Behind her Draze says, "Do we want to call the rest of the Company up? Probably overkill for a monster but Gorum only knows what's living down there. More drakes, maybe."
"Or giant frog things..." Silvui says with a shudder.
"There are worse things then those." Litta says, but then falls silent, her freckled face unreadable as she stares out over the still, silent water.
Rudabeh does nothing to contradict the decision, and only addresses Braxis' question. "The monster's usual fare on a long lead. We will see how far out of the water it is willing to go for its meal, then strike." She outlines the basic principles of her plan. "You indicated it prefers to feed at night?"
Picking herself up from her kneeling position, she inwardly marvels at the lack of old pains or jerky movement. Veleda's healing had done so much to rejuvenate her body it was nearly inconceivable. No wonder the venerable human was so spry, even when others would need a cane to move.
"I will return soon with soliders, Brother Braxis." Rudabeh says with a bow of her head, clearly happy they are words of support and not inevitable violence. "Thank you for the audience."
She turns towards her escort and waves them back the way they came, gauntlets flashing with sunlight. "That is quite all right Draze, but thank you. We will be returning to the barge to gather everyone, including equipment to set up a temporary camp as we wait out the monster if we must." Her long, noisy strides quicken as the path ahead becomes certain. "I do not intend to give the creature any sort of advantage." She had some experience hunting monsters with The Bastard Brigade, and her words were Finn's own. Using her hands, she gestures to explain a basic strategy. "We will draw it inland with the bait and surround it in a U shape, leaving it a small opening to flee back to the river after it is injured. I will give chase. Our archers will loose a volley it as it runs, and if that does not kill it, I will enter the water and finish it off." It was, in her mind, an excellent plan, and everything was in their favor.
As they move further away from the gnomish settlement, Rudabeh addresses an important point. "Thank Alseta for opening the door to the path that allowed us to reason with Braxis. I thought conflict was inevitable, and we would have to kill some of them to get to the dam. As for the visions..." Rudabeh draws in a breath, and sighs. "I was hoping to keep the secret longer, but I too have seen them. Well, they were forced upon me, I believe. Something is going to happen in the River Kingdoms. We are all headed towards a time of great change, which precludes... a possibility. We will all have a part in what is to come. That is the best way I can describe it."
The paladin holds up a hand and stops, turning around to look over her most trusted soldiers. She looks each of them in the eye, face serious. "I do not know what is going to happen. No one I have spoken to does. But The Pact of Years is watching and preparing, and you are all part of that preparation. Until we have a better idea of what is to come, I ask you keep this matter to yourselves. I do not wish to spread panic or pointless speculation. I will not make you swear an oath, but I will instead trust you to respect my wishes on the matter."
Rudabeh then smiles without exposing her teeth. "Besides, I am not an oracle. I don't want anyone coming to me for fortune readings." With her message delivered she turns around and continues the hike back to the barge to fetch the Company and their equipment.
"Well, we have only fed it at night." Brother Braxis says but does add, "We have never seen it during the day, so I suppose it prefers the cover of darkness. "
Later her little group takes in her proposed military plans. Silvui nods easily but Litta frowns while Draze coughs and says, his voice the usual smoky ruin, "Um, Commander?"
"Let me understand. Your plan is to lure the creature into an ambush. Attack it, make it angry and hurt and then chase it, alone, into the water where it lives?" The older solider shook his head, "Seems foolhardy. Why not trap it on land somehow?"
Litta nodded and said, her voice soft as usual, "You don't hunt a creature on its own terrain, if you can prevent it. We should draw it out, not chase it back into its lair."
The entire group agrees with her about avoiding conflict with the gnomes, with Silvui saying, "I confess I won't looking forward to beating up a bunch of gnomes, especially over building a town out here." he slapped a mosquito on his arm, turning it to a red smear. "Although I can't imagine why. No offense." he added seeing Litta give him a cold stare at insulting her homeland.
None of them say anything when Rudabeh talks about her visions, and the strange possibilities of the future. All of them nod silently when she asks them for their discretion but the undine wonders how much will leak out anyway. Such things always did.
Back at the barge, Ractus is glad to hear they aren't going to have to kill any gnomes.
"Never much cared for fighting civilians." The elf said, looking upstream at the water cascading over the dam. "Takes the fun out of things when they can't hit back."
He rubs his chin at the rest of the news however and goes on, "Monster fighting? Well, I change my mind. Let's beat on some gnomes with no weapons. Gods only know what is hiding at the bottom of that lake. " he shakes his head and says, "Are you sure that's the plan you want? To fight it alone while injured?"
"All the better." Rudabeh replies to the information the creature seems to only appear at night. With some magical lighting at their back, they could hopefully daze the creature.
"Correct." She later responds to Draze's analysis of her plan after she carefully considers whether he said "tra" or clap"- sometimes he was difficult to understand. Litta's observations also earns a slow nod. "I don't want to completely encircle or trap it. Should it see no way out but to fight to the death, I fear we will accure an unacceptable number of causalities from a creature that is big enough to eat a sheep a day." This wasnt from her own experience, but she had heard tales from Finn. Giants, wyverns, dire animals- anything bigger than a carriage could flail wildly and with enough strength to snap a person in two. "But if it has a way out, it will turn and run, giving our archers a chance for a clear shot and spare some lives."
The paladin looks each of them in the eye. "It is my duty as a commander to keep you all as safe as I can. If there is any risk, I should be the one to take it, or at least take it with the rest of you." To Litta, she smiles, pearly incisors flashing. "The water is my home, too. It will have no advantage." Waving away a misquito that was trying to find its way into her helmet, she motions for them to press on. "But you raise a good point, Draze. Perhaps we could dig a pit or some other trap to slow it down fruther.."
Ractus' mercurial attitude about fighting when it came to unarmed gnomes versuses monsters nearly causes her to roll her eyes, but she merely puts on a stern expression. "I am not fighting alone. I am merely part of the plan that involves everyone. Why I want to do it this way is just as you said... We don't know what is down there and in the end I am the best equipped to handle it." Is her stance, and she unfurls the unused writ to draw up a plan on the margin.
"We have the sheep on a rope, say thirty feet from the water." She draws a squiggle line to represent the shore and a circle to represent the sheep. "If the weather holds, you will be able to see well enough in the moonlight that we can be stationed some hundred feet back and still see the shore and sheep, without an light, correct?" Is her quesiton to Ractus, knowing the elf could see much farther than her darkvision in the moonlight. She draws the first X some distance back, directly south of the sheep circle. "Stationed at our sides in a line will be our footmen." More X's follow in a line to the left and right of the first one. "On your signal when you see the monster emerge and go for the sheep, we will pull the sheep's tether and drag it along the ground towards us." An arrow is drawn from the sheep back towards the first X. "When it gets close, or realizes the sheep is on a rope if it is intelligent, we give a signal to Aurelia..." A triangle is drawn behind the X's. "Who summons a light as bright as she can in the sky at our backs." Little lines come off of the triangle to represent light. "That is the signal for the footmen to move in..." Curved arrows are drawn from the X line towards the middle of the scene. "In a U shape to attack the monster. Meanwhile, our archers..." More triangles in their back line, which she forgot to draw earlier. "Will move to the flanks of our footmen." The triangles are shown moving to the two ends of the U in a line. "When the creature starts to flee out of the route we provide, the archers will have a clear line to fire upon it as it flees to the river and I give chase to ultimately finish it off."
The obvious problem that there will be arrows flying at her back and sides does not seem to bother the paladin. "I am well armored enough that, Alseta willing, a few stray arrows should be no concern." She puts down her pen. "We have an afternoon to drill this manuever and possibly build a trap or some platforms for the archers. Your thoughts? I believe it should be given a chance to flee, both for the safety of the soldiers and the possibility it may just keep swimming once it is in the water. We don't need to kill it, really, but just chase it off."
In her mind Teken muses, Water. It sounds almost like a soft curse, It makes fighting and planning very difficult. This is like fighting a burrowing creature of some kind, like one of the great sandworms of the Ash Wastes.
Ractus grunts approvingly at the small sand diagram Rudabeh has drawn on the shore. The elf rubs his china nd says, "No plan survives contact with the enemy.' It sounded like an aphorism but Rudabeh had never heard it before. However, Finn had often said, 'Everyone has plans until they get hit."
Ractus goes on, breaking the undine musings, "A good plan though. It manages to use our greater numbers effectively, which can be tough with monsters." he pauses and looks at Rudabeh, "Anything can happen but I do have one contingency I'd like to ask. What if only part of it comes out of the water, like a tentacle or claw? Do we proceed as planned or do we wait and re-group? I want to know if you plan to commit if we only get a partial look at the thing, if it hangs back."
To most it is a hindrance, but I can turn it to my advantage. She thinks to Teken, who has probably never seen more than a barrel of water before coming to the material plane. This monster was unlikely to suspect any of them could swim, let alone fight underwater. You will have to tell me about this Ash Wastes sometime. It sounds horrid. Was there someone like her in the vast cosmos that could swim in sand? A... sandine?
"Yes, I don't want to loss a quarter of our soldiers to some ice breath or some such because we were grouped up. That's why I want to give it a way out. It won't become desperate if it's not backed into a corner." She responds before thinking about his question.
"I had not considered that. It needs to come out of the water, or at least enough of it the footmen can engage." Is her answer as she imagines the situation. "If we keep dragging the sheep back it will surely get frustrated and follow, right? It has no reason to suspect a ruse or think itself in danger. If it doesn't follow the plan and stays in the water, we'll need a new plan." Looking up from the ground, she glances to the barge. "Ostend might start to grumble about contracts and it will be a few more days before Irovetti starts to wonder why we haven't docked at the next port, but we are in no real hurry. I see no reason to needlessly risk lives when the gnomes are ambivalent to our presence."
Teken grunts, It is what it sounds like. A waste of ash. Rudabeh can't help but think of Finn when Teken answers her earnest curiosity with blunt simplicity. Or did it remind her more of Urqat , one of his grumpier days. Much like them though, the ifrit unbent enough to add, They are the great hunting lands of my country. Great beasts roam there, in the wild. Adventurers often enter them, but many do not return.
Ractus nods, "Sounds good. I'll get the men ready and tell them to get ready for anything. At least we can hope it isn't intelligent. I'm sure the gnome would have noticed that....right?" The last word is said doubtfully but he goes off to order the men and women into full gear.
Rudabeh follows after, clattering along like an ironmonger's cart, to help. As usual the going is slow, with equipment stacks in haphazard piles and unsorted. A lack of a quartermaster was evident as mercenaries picked through heaps of bags, arrows, crates, shields, helmets and rations. Still, her force is fairly small and they managed to grab their things without too much delay.
The undine leads the way back up toward the gnome village. In a small clearing away from the river they make camp, more of staging area then any real need for rest. Rudabeh doesn't think they will get much sleep tonight. As they shake out into sections and groups, Rudabeh goes to investigate the water's edge. Litta comes along, not with Silvui for once. The quiet archer is probably the best hunter in the Company and Rudabeh is glad to have her along.
The lake shore is quiet, and isn't really much a shore. Since the body of water is new, erosion hasn't had time to smooth out the contours of the lake. It is merely a grassy bed that runs off into the water, vanishing out of sight. Rudabeh guesses it is quite shallow until you reach the old streambed. They should be to their advantage, for any creature of size would have to reveal itself for many yards before reaching dry land. It was a poor place for an aquatic ambush.
They made an odd pair, the archer and the paladin. Litta was wearing little more then linen shirt and pants, topped with a quilted jacket for armor. The red-haired woman didn't have a helmet on. Rudabeh meanwhile clomped along in several inches of silvered metal, her weight leaving considerable prints in the soft earth. Still, while Rudabeh knew her armor made her a very formidable fighting force, she also knew that their were time when a light skirmisher could turn the tide of a battle. In her own way, Litta was a valuable solider.
She leaned down, looking closely at the bank. "I don't see any tracks." Litta said, squinting, "But look here. See these slides? Looks like something slid on the mud." The archer points at an area of flattened grass, as if someone had dragged something heavy into the water.
"Otters make slides like that, but nothing so big. I wonder..." She shrugs then, "Not sure what it is Commander, sorry. Thought maybe I could simplify things."
Squatting next to the water's edge with Litta, Rudabeh ignores the fact she was slowly sinking into the mud and stares at the slides along the bank. Their walk along the shoreline had already splashed up some dark silt onto her shining greaves, which only barely managed to blunt the blinding light reflecing off of them in the midday sun.
"Could it be a giant otter?" Rudabeh wonders aloud, though she immediately shakes her head at the thought. "No, the gnomes would have noticed giant otters. They are quite playful and are not exactly as shy." Her thoughts wandered as she tried to imagine what Litta was describing...
Ractus mentioned tentacles earlier, what if this creature was some sort of... freshwater kraken?
The idea hits her with such force she quickly stands up, making enough noise to scare off half a dozen nearby frogs. The subseqent ripples made by their splashe laps against Rudabeh's boots as she speaks. "Do you know what an octopus is, Litta? Squid? Perhaps you have heard of legends of Kraken?" It ended up being a retorical question. "They have long, tube-like flexible arms with suckers on them, and will wrap them around prey to drag them into their mouths. I think this creature is wrapping its arm around the sheep and dragging it back into the water..."
A moment of intense concentration crosses the paladin's face. "You are more skilled with traps than I, so tell me if this is foolish." She begins to walk along the area where the run is, visually measuring the distance and pointing at the ground. "If we drove archer's stakes into the shore a sheep's length apart with the spikes facing us, it would not stop the creature from grabbing the sheep, but it would prevent it from pulling the sheep in, giving us time to pull it back and lure it further out of the water." Her head turns to the company's hunter. "What do you think?"
Litta glances up at Rudabeh's words, "If that slide is just made by one arm, then we should give up and go home now. That impression is over two feet across. If it is just an arm...." She shook her head, "I hope we aren't biting off more then we can chew."
She stands up and wipes her palms on her pants, cleaning them of river mud, "As for the stakes, I like it. Anything to give us an advantage. Besides, if it does heave it's whole body of the water, the stakes might keep it on land for a bit longer. I know what you plan, but I'd rather fight it on land for as long as possible, Commander."
For the next few hours, Rudabeh keeps the Company busy. Hiding places are scouted out, and if needed made with piles of brush heaped up. Distances are paced out and arches even try a few test shots to get the feel for the range. Weapons are polished and sharpened, shield braces tightened. The gnomes seem happy enough to have them around and frequently bring food and drink to the soldiers.
The stakes are ordered up and pounded in, creating a loose network of sharpened edges facing inward, like the teeth of a hungry shark. Rudabeh notes, not to her surprise, despite the usual horseplay and bantering no one disturbs the still surface of the lake.
Finally the sun starts to falls in the west, sending great shadows looping over the ground, reaching out over the surface of the penned up river. In the east, a full moon starts to rise, white as a gravestone.
The time is approaching.
[ooc] Final orders?[/oc]