Lyntel gasps in shock at Emma's actions and rushes to the fallen elf.
If it still breathes she will sing a mournful dirge.
The remaining warden is stabilized, but in critical condition; Emma's wound stabbed deep. Milo, you have three throwing kunai - 0 weight, precise, close range.
Emma, you feel instinctively that Commander Wildsong would not work with low-born creatures like the skaven without good reason.
Grigor, there appears to be fighting among the elves stationed just outside the courthouse.
Lyntel opens the gem again.
If this battle is not yet over, the Queen may be safest inside. Or we could toss Wildsong and the traitor in with him. What should we do?
At Lyntel's words, the sounds of conflict begin to die down. You can hear elven voices crying, "After them!" "They're off into the woods!" and a terrifying, animalistic howl. The howl is receding even as it echoes throughout the elven city, and afterwards, the sounds outside the Courthouse cease entirely.
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Dhice just stands there agape as Emma stabs the guard in cold blood. Even growing up as part of the support unit for a mercenary company hadn't hardened him that much. Traitors were hanged, sure, but after due process and certainly not that casually.
Milo pockets the throwing knives. He hopes to have the chance to return them to the Skaven personally.
He cocks his head at the noise.
Sounds to me that guards are chasing the remaining Skaven into the woods, but we have no real way of knowing who is part of this conspiracy. We'll need to get ourselves and the queen and any surviving hostages out of Elven territory as quickly as we can.
Dhice tries to engage the Queen, evaluating whether or not she's of sound mind. "your majesty, I know this must be shocking, but there has been treachery from within your ranks. Is there anyone you trust implicitly? A place of safety we can take you to?"
The Queen was healed by Lyntel's soothing lullaby, but is now asleep, reclined against the throne. With the stress of possession gone from her face, her sleeping countenance is much brighter and more beautiful.
You hear footsteps rushing in toward the courthouse from outside. "The Queen, the Queen!" the voices shout. A half-dozen elves arrive at the entrance to the throne room, and they look like they are lesser-ranking ranger types. Lyntel, the sympathetic guard that you interacted with before is leading them. As one, the elves sag in relief when they find the Queen safe, then the elf from before steps forward and addresses you.
"Friends, the Queen does not stir. Is she safe? Was she harmed?" his voice betrays his fear.
Archepex rejoins the group from thin air, his arrows restored.
The Queen is safe and resting he says as he materializes.
Lyntel tends to the Queen, leaving tactics and fortifications to those that know of such things.
Although, she does look up long enough to make eye contact with her quarry and smile before returning to her work.
At your words, Archepex, the elven guards seem to sag slightly in relief, though their discipline prevents them from revealing this emotion for too long.
The leader of the guards, whom Lyntel spoke with briefly, walks up to Archepex. "I am Hirohim, and in Wildsong's absence I am the highest ranking member of the Guard. Ranger...you have imprisoned the Queen's Majordomo, Faldren, and you appear to have...brutalized his hand," he begins, glancing at the crystal prison, now enlarged, that the noble is cowering in. His gaze returns to your face as he continues, Archepex. "Furthermore, you have laid hands on the Queen. Both acts are punishable by law with exile or death." His gaze is hard and steely, and tension mounts in the air between you, but then...
He lowers his gaze. "Were it not for your bravery in standing up, and casting aside the rules, we would all be suffering still under the Skaven. The Majordomo was in league with the ratfolk, and keeping the Queen in constant mortal danger to keep the rest of us in line. We loyalists," he gestures at the elven guards behind him, along with more guards trickling into the Courthouse, fresh from recent combat.
"We loyalists obeyed the orders of Faldren and his lackeys like Wildsong out of fear for her life." Hirohim sinks slowly to one knee before you, Archepex, and keeps his head lowered. "All of us are in your debt." Behind him, the loyalist guards, who only served the Skaven out of fear are following suit.
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Archepex can't believe what's happening! This never happens! He was in a living a song, or he was dead and dreaming...
He takes Commander Hirohim by the shoulders and lifts him to his feet. He speaks so all could hear, though he continues in Elven,
In the World, noting stands alone. The Tree is nothing without the Dirt. The Dirt is dust in the wind without the Grass. The Grass is overgrown and choked without the Animals. The animals are nothing without the Predators to keep them in check.
So we are nothing without you. We're it not for your loyalty today we would be doomed where we stand. Do not speak of debts. Speak of opportunities taken, and evils defeated.
Milo isn't TOTALLY sure what's happening, but it seems to be positive. That being said, he keeps careful eye for what's going on while this big show is happening. Another ambush perhaps?
At your words, Archepex, the elven guards seem to sag slightly in relief, though their discipline prevents them from revealing this emotion for too long. "All of us are in your debt." Behind him, the loyalist guards, who only served the Skaven out of fear are following suit.
Hirohim stands before Archepex, taking in his words. As his elven speech crests across the gathered assembly like a wave, the elven guards and ranger corps look up at him, inspiration clear in their eyes. With the Queen safe again, worry lines are vanishing on many of their faces, and a gladness fills the air such as has not been felt in the Elven city for many months.
When you finish speaking, Hirohim returns your comradely shoulder clap. "These animals that you speak of are not defeated, only routed," the Guard Captain replies, in Elven, as he looks directly into your eyes with the casual intimacy that all Elves feel for each other.
"I don't know about..."
His voice is interrupted by a faint sound, a quiet sound coming from the throne, that nonetheless shocks the Captain into silence - the Queen stirs.
"She awakens!" come cries of surprise and delight from within the guard corps, and the elves that had been rising to their feet at Archepex's speech immediately fall to their knees again.
At the throne, the Elfchild Queen is shaking her head, her eyelids fluttering. "Wh-what?" she asks, in a tiny, vulnerable voice, clearly still very disoriented.
Archepex turns and falls to his knees like the other elves. He'll leave the delicate things like politics to Lyntel.
Lyntel takes a step back from the Queen and kneels with eyes downcast as the Queen comes around.
Lyntel whispers gently. My Queen. Take your time, you are safe. Faldren seems to have held you under magic compulsion. He and Wildsong were working with the Skaven.
She points to the gem. The traitor awaits your judgment.
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Shakily, the Elfchild Queen straightens her legs beneath her to rise again to her feet. There is a gentle radiance about her that seems to leave her features bathed in a steady light.
Her face is downcast, her blonde hair falling forward to hide her features. When she lifts her head again, bright streaks of whitish tears flowing from her eyes stain her cheeks. Some of the guards in attendance cannot contain their gasps of surprise at the sight of tears on the cheeks of their monarch. This is not a sight that has been seen in many years.
She speaks, her quiet voice nonetheless heard by all in attendance.
"I was aware of all that transpired while my Majordomo, that I once called friend, Faldren, kept me in thrall to the Skaven. While I was trapped in my own mind, unable to break free, my kingdom has fallen into despair."
Lifting her arm, which is practically engulfed by one of her sleeves, she wipes her tears dry. "That time has passed," she continues, her voice growing steely and hard. All those present can feel their spines straightening up a little unconsciously.
The Elfchild Queen holds out one hand, palm out, toward the gem that Lyntel indicates. So far she has not acknowledged any of her rescuers. The gem prison quivers, and the door slowly swings open in the side of the perfect-looking jewel. From within, Faldren is still clutching at his mutilated hand, whispering hateful things and unable to meet the Queen's imperious gaze.
Her voice has the quality of a titanium bar, wrapped in silks. Despite the youth that her voice seems to carry, you can hear the weight of years in her weary tone.
"Faldren. You are charged with usurpation of the Queen's authority, unlawful contact with the Queen's personage, and betrayal of your people through your alliance to the Skaven. You are not permitted any words in your defense. We have heard your whisperings "
The guards flinch a little at her sudden vehemence. The Elfchild Queen is known throughout the lands as a terrible sorceress. Even now, her magic begins to take hold on her Majordomo's body.
"By your actions you have forever sacrificed the nobility of your elven birthright. Thus it will be stripped from you." her condemnation rings from the courthouse walls like the tolling of a frightful bell. You all can feel an enormous rush of atmospheric pressure as the spell she calls into being manifests around Faldren's body.
The pressure suddenly abates, and Faldren is no more. In his place, a feral rat cowers, clutching its wounded paw. The Queen mimics picking up a distasteful bit of laundry with her fingers, and the magic of her will scoops up the rat and deposits him helplessly in the arms of a nearby elf-guard.
Archepex had never been in the presence of the Elfchild Queen. He never reached that level of authority before he departed to fight the Skaven. The experience is transcendent. The Queen is everything the stories said and more.
Still, there is a pit in his gut. His friend, Wildsong, was next to stand before the Queen's judgment. Seeing the immediate punishment of the Traitor, his hope of ever redeeming his friend falters.
Dhice desperately wanted to come to the Elven lands to satisfy his naive human desire to experience something magical. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine meeting the Queen, never mind taking part in saving her. He is completely dumbfounded and stands stock-still throughout the whole affair, only moving to drop to his knees along with the others when the Queen stirs.
Despite the whole thing happening in elven, Dhice somehow manages to understand the entire conversation. It's only much later that he reflects on this and assumes that the Queen's powerful magic must have projected her message directly into his mind, despite him not understanding the language.
As the rat is carried away by the guards to be caged, the Queen turns her gaze from him to look up at the assembled elves and adventurers.
"Bring forth the Rat Sympathizers," she commands, and the light from the chandeliers in the ceiling above and the torch sconces around the room refract off of a few more small tears that fall from her royal eyes.
From behind the assembly, a group of elves, perhaps two or three dozen in all, are shoved forward by their attendants. They look to have been in recent combat, and received the worst of it.
The Queen regards them, and her alabaster hands close into fists by her waist. Wildsong stands between the sympathizers and the Queen, bearing the full weight of her regard, and you can see his posture slowly crumbling out of shame.
Silence follows for a few moments after the bound and tied elves are brought to a halt before the throne's elevated dais. Archepex, you glance up at the Queen to discover with a jolted shock that she was looking at you sidelong, from the corners of her eyes. Her full attention refocuses on those that are to be judged.
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Archepex involuntarily shivers when his eyes meet the Queens. His insides knot. How would he say everything he felt? The betrayal, the kinship, all the conflicting emotions tear through him. Suddenly he finds himself on his feet.
Then he is speaking. His voice is trembling, though he us unsure if it's from the fires of rage over what had been done or the ice of fear for what might happen.
Your Radiance, forgive my humble intrusion into your judgements, and forgive a child his compulsions. I would request, as a member of former Commander Wildsong's Generation, to hear his account of what happened here as a mouse requests of the lion. I would like to carry his testimony for the Generation so that it may never pass away and become a snare for us again, though it hang upon me as the snows upon the peak.
Then, perhaps, some measure of mercy may be found midst the most grave of transgressions.
Milo turns to watch the proceedings. He can tell there is no small amount of gravity in what is occurring and that he may be among a few humans to ever witness Elf justice like this.
Plus, he might be standing there some day. Would be good to get an understanding of what not to do.
At the concluding your words, Archepex, the Queen flicks her gaze from you to Commander Wildsong. As the rest of the elves are watching her so intently, her every gesture is as clear as a statement. Wildsong immediately understands her unspoken intent and struggles to his feet with his hands bound behind his back. His face is bruised on the forehead and right cheek and his nose was bloodied in the fighting outside; his hair hangs off his head, disheveled and ratty-looking as a mop.
"I will speak, before I'm punished, and for all Elves gathered to hear! For I want to spread this message from the Southern Treeline all the way to the Isles of Leaves to the North! Your rule is corrupt, and everlasting, O Queen of Kneelers," his face is screwed up in rage as he rails against the Elfchild Queen; for her part, her face is expressionless and passive as a statue.
"The Skaven way is the true way! Leadership is taken and held, not just passed along by some flimsy traditions that didn't even make sense when they were established. Look around you, Queen B*tch, at your defenders! Those who sank into servitude when you were captured, who rush to overthrow the beneficent hand of the Majordomo just to return to the way things always were!"
He spits on the throne's dais. "The elves under your rule are weak! Complacent! Willing to let the world grow and shift and change beyond their borders, while within, they are frozen in time, because of you! In every other kingdom, those who dissent with the ruling class have hope of a new ruler being born that could change things. Not so for the elven race. We are SLAVES to an ETERNAL, UNDYING Master! I reject your immortal sovereignty utterly!"
As he culminates his ranting, his chest heaves and falls with the emphasis of his breath, with the passion of his convictions. The Queen regards him coldly. A few moments of silence pass.
"Are you finished, Commander?" she asks of him, icicles frozen and hanging from her every word.
Wildsong merely slumps.
Archepex stands firm, nearly as rigid as the queen. His gut feels like a stone, his heart aches. Quietly, he reaches up and touches his brooch. A blink later, he is seeing through Wildsong's eyes. Maybe, just maybe, he was also trapped in an illusion. It was his only, last hope.
Lyntel steps backwards as the Queen and Archepex speak, and pulls out a small notebook. She begins furiously dictating the interaction. She knows that it is not her place to speak, but this momentous occasion must be recorded for posterity.
I sidle close to Lyntel. Dont forget about the part where I saved the queen from being skewered. Totally saved the day!
Archepex, there is no illusion; merely difference of opinion. Traitor that he is, Wildsong is at least following an ideology.
Archepex's worst fears are confirmed. He comes back to himself, locks eyes with the queen and trusts that she knows the sorrow that no words express. He then bows his head and tries not to cry.
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Legends tell many things of the mysterious Elfchild Queen. The stories tell of a time long ago when she ensnared the very moon itself in the sky, causing it to hang for three days and nights over a centennial festival. They tell of a time when a volcano was put to rest mid-eruption, miles away from the elven lands, stopped by a single word from the Queen's lips.
But there are no legends that tell of the Elfchild Queen's mercy. Despite her innocent appearance, she is aged and wise, and her anger - though slow to stir - is terrible to behold. Like a sleeping giant, her power can swat away those that irritate her, and there are very few in all the world that can withstand a direct assault from the Queen Sorceress.
Silence hangs heavy over the Courthouse as the Queen and Wildsong stare at each other. Hate twists the once-comely face of the Elven guard commander into an ugly mask, while the Queen's countenance is like that of an icy lake in winter.
Then, the Queen breaks eye contact first, looking down with a sigh.
"Your heart is true, Wildsong. I feel the conviction within your heart. My own heart breaks that such conviction can be turned against me. And it breaks for what I must do."
She addresses the loyalists gathered around the Skaven sympathizers. "Stand back," she commands, and they instantly obey. Slowly, a circle of bluish white begins to form, tracing its way around the huddled group of elves as if drawn by some giant that is invisible to the naked eye.
Once again, the Queen lifts her arm, enveloped in her long-sleeved garments. She speaks no words, only points at the circle. When it is completed, a half-dome of white light forms over the elves trapped within, and begins rotating - slowly at first, then more and more swiftly as time goes on.
Finally, when the dome reaches top speed, the Queen utters three small words.
Elves have very, very, very long lifespans. None of the mortal races are exactly sure how long elves can survive before being struck down by age. But this spell proves that eventually, death even comes to the Firstborn.
The elves within the dome are driven to their knees. Their hair grows longer, and longer, until each elf has hair hanging past their waists that rapidly loses its color and vibrancy, before falling out. Throughout all this, their youthful features remain...but then too, those disappear, replaced by wizened masks. If they were humans, they would look to be in their 50s or 60s...Lyntel, you have only met one elf that looked like this naturally, and she was around and influencing events over a millenia ago.
The elves had been bearing the brunt of the spell silently, but as they pass this age threshold they begin to scream. Their voices weaken as their screams go on, and the elf loyalists begin to squirm a little. Throughout, the Queen looks on, her face emotionless.
Moments later, the dome disappears...its spell complete. Of the elves within, not even their armor or weaponry remains. Only dust.
The Queen turns her head to one side, addressing a courtier.
"Fetch a broom and dustpan."
Archepex watches. It was his duty. He must bear this memory for his Generation. When the spell is finished he allows his eyes to finally close and seals the memory with a single tear that traces it's way down his cheek.
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Archepex then catches the courier's arm and draws fourth his magic chalk. He draws himself a shovel and two pails. When the items come to life he retrieves the ashes of Wildsong first, then those of the others. He draws lids to seal them and a yoke to carry them. All the while silently lamenting the fate of his childhood friend.
Silence falls on the hall as all the assembled elves watch the ranger work. Archepex's eyes are not the only ones shedding tears; though the Queen's face is impassive, the aura of her grief at what she had to do fills the air. Such is the power of the Queen's magic that her very emotions can influence her subjects' minds in a close enough proximity to her. In the entire courthouse, no one makes a sound as Archepex does his duty. All eyes are on him.
"Court...is adjourned," the Queen says, heavily. Her voice, barely above a whisper, nonetheless carries to every ear assembled in the silence of the Hall. "I...must rest. I will address the People at first light tomorrow morning. Our work is not...yet complete."
At that, she sinks down into her throne, where she had been imprisoned in her own mind for who knows how long, and puts her face into her hands.
As the room clears, Lyntel packs away her notebook and kneels with eyes downcast.
Forgive me, my lady. I have an urgent, private matter to bring to your attention. I fear it cannot wait.
She waits for a response, clamping down on her fear.
The Queen, whose forehead had been resting against her fingers, turns to face you. Close as you are, you can see the exhaustion that isn't readily apparent to the eye at a distance. The spells, potent as they were, drained her equally potently. Despite this, her expression softens somewhat when she sees that it is you that approaches.
"Of all elves, you and my ranger are in the best position to ask of me whatever you wish," she says, quietly. The court has all but emptied.
Nervously, Lyntel relates her experiences since becoming a captive of the skaven. She focuses particularly on the bits about the behelit, and her nightmares.
I was almost lost last night. I beg you, do you know of anything that could help me? I do not think I can survive another night.
The Elfchild Queen studies you. Despite her childlike appearance, her gaze is piercing, and the intensity of her eyes is like staring directly into the sun. You can feel gentle eddies of air currents swirling around you as the casual inquisitiveness of her mood is enough to influence the ambient magic of the area.
"The depravity of the Skaven is truly boundless," she comments sadly when you finish your tale, ending with the dream you experienced last night, and your near-death at the hands of the demon in your dreams.
"Behelits like these, they can only feed and grow in strength while your mind is at rest. To starve it out, weaken its grasp in your mind until it can be safely removed, will be...difficult for you. You must go without your meditative rest or any sleep until the behelit is dislodged from the deepest recesses of your mind. Your friends must aid you in staying awake for the forseeable future."
Already standing next to Lyntel, Milo offers his assistance
A buddy of mine, Rodrick, he had a bad blow to the head. Some ruffians down at the docks though that the block he was working was theirs. Rod disagreed and some blows were exchanged.
Realizing he is rambling, Milo gets to the point The point is, the local doc, not with magic but with herbs and the like, the local doc said that Rod couldn't go to sleep all day. Might not wake up, you know? So I helped him stay awake. I...I can help you, if you need.
The Queen acknowledges you for the first time, Milo, and your heart skips a beat involuntarily when her gaze locks with yours. You find it suddenly difficult to swallow.
Then her gaze returns to Lyntel.
"I am sorry, young song-singer. I wish I could remove the behelit for you right at this moment. However, were I to do so, the pain of the removal would surely kill you on the spot."
"I...must rest. I will address the People at first light tomorrow morning. Our work is not...yet complete."
Dhice waits patiently while any other interactions go on, but he has nothing to say to the Queen that seems worthy. Once people start to filter out he heads out with them, and if possible, tries to break away to go wander the elven city on his own.
He intends to rejoin the group in time to help ensure that Lyntel doesn't fall asleep again.
You leave the Courthouse and are immediately surrounded by excited elves.
It takes a LOT to get an elf to lose their customary aloofness when around other races; but under the right circumstances, elves can serve as a reminder to the faerie realm they are said to hail from.
You are peppered with so many questions from Elven loyalists that it's difficult to even parse the words, especially because a few of them are forgetting themselves and asking you in Elvish instead of Common.
Beyond the crowd around you, some of them walk away with a far more somber air. There is evidence of the recent battle all around you...even a few casualties that are even now being picked up and hauled away.
Archepex clears out soon after dhice. He is pestered as well, but waves off the questions. The Queen will speak tomorrow. Be patient. is all he gives them.
On the contrary Archepex. You expect to receive a similar reception to Dhice, but in fact the crowd falls silent respectfully when you exit the courthouse. A hush falls over the assembled loyalists, and many of them lower their gaze to your feet in respect.
Archepex is shocked for the second time is as many hours. He still informs all those gathered of the Queen's decision to speak tomorrow.
From there he takes his load of ashes and brings the general Skaven sympathizers to the Royal Archives for safe keeping. Wildsong he keeps and takes with him high up into the trees and near the very limits of climbability where he and members of his clan, his Generation, live. Here the sky is close enough to touch and the world is spread out at your feet. Here the air is chill and sharp. It's been years since Archepex has run these limbs, but his feet know every one, even if they've gotten a little thicker.
Thank you, my Queen. I will do as you say, as always.
As they exit, Lyntel smiles at Milo. Thank you for your offer. I saw you save the Queen's life. A satchel toss of legends ... Or it will be when I am through. As far as I am concerned you are one of us.
She eyes her quarry in the crowd outside. I believe I will be fine tonight, but look forward to spending tomorrow evening with you.
She melts into the crowd and makes eye contact with her stagrider as she approaches him. She takes his hand silently and they disappear from the public square. She does not sleep this evening.
Milo relishes the attention, and if he develops the nickname "Bladecatcher", he can hardly control that. He doesn't know if elves have taverns, but if they do, he'll"" be there, letting grateful citizens reward him with drinks.
Archepex, two of your oldest friends, siblings who joined the Homeland Patrol together, fall in step with you on either side as you exit the clearing and head up into the trees. They, too, were close to Wildsong. When you reach the upper canopy, they are beside you.
Meanwhile, Lyntel falls back into Bardic habits as she easily weaves through the crowd of loyalists forming around the strange human they encountered in the forest. The stagrider, Hirohim, when informed of her need to stay awake, assists her diligently.
When Milo raises his question about taverns, a huge shout goes up among all the elves assembled, and cheering begins to spread throughout the city. Under Skaven control, consumption of ale had been tightly regulated and almost all taverns had been shut down. "By order of the Queen," it had been said. Everyone knew it was the Majordomo, a notorious teetotaler, that had been behind it. Now, casks and barrels of elven honey-mead and sweetwater ale are being rolled out of seemingly every tree, and enthusiastic former barkeeps are swinging their hammers to hammer the pegs and burst them open. Within 20 minutes of excited activity, the very streets themselves begin to flow with libations, and the entire city begins to celebrate from one end to the other as realization of the overthrowing of Skaven authority began to spread.
Check your bonds and alignment for XP!
Did we learn something new and important about the world?
Did we overcome a notable monster or enemy?
Did we loot a memorable treasure?
Level up if you can!
Also, the celebrations going on throughout the city unlock the ability to use the Carouse move:
Carouse
When you return triumphant and throw a big party, spend 100 coins and roll +1 for every extra 100 coins spent. ✴On a 10+, choose 3. ✴On a 7–9, choose 1. ✴On a miss, you still choose one, but things get really out of hand (the GM will say how).
You befriend a useful NPC.
You hear rumors of an opportunity.
You gain useful information.
You are not entangled, ensorcelled, or tricked.
You can only carouse when you return triumphant. That’s what draws the crowd of revelers to surround adventurers as they celebrate their latest haul. If you don’t proclaim your success or your failure, then who would want to party with you anyway?
I hope I gave out enough gold in loot to make this an option for one or two of you. I think I did...