"Now, who has dibs on that snazzy coat he had. Robin, you'd look good in that. And there is a quality healing potion."
Already drained from using so much magic in such a short space of time, Hecate shivers and wraps her arms around herself as the adrenaline falls away. She gratefully sucks in lungfuls of the cold cellar air, and wills herself not to faint; her ghost-white face gives her away, but she bends down over the corpse and lifts the holy symbol.
Turning to face the other two, she gives a wan smile. "I think that this is what the Cardinal sent us to find. Now, can we, um, get out of here? Please."
Robin picks up the Paladin's cloak, it's magical nature obvious by being almost untouched by the flames that partially consumed it's wearer.
Seeing the emblazoned symbol of Mitra on it, Robin smiles as she closes the clasp around her neck, drawing her own holy symbol of Mitra and posing with a a Victory-Sign on her other hand, one foot on the Knight, grinning at Saranda and Hecate.
Looking around the room again, she notes that Hecate does seem...weakened. Seeing her ready to depart, with her hands clasping the very object they were sent to retrieve, she points at the others effects of the Paladin, then waves Saranda over, getting ready to depart.
Saranda grabs the remaining equipment after it cooled off and stores it in her now very heavy backpack, "Hecate, you think that cursed holy symbol is the thing the cardinal be looking for?" she says.
Saranda was tempted to drink the healing potion rather now, but she could survive without it. Her slave on the other hand.
Silver and sapphire. Yep, it's what he wanted., Robin thinks, but does not make the effort of telling Saranda so, content to leave Hecate to answer the question directed at her.
"I guess, this our first real conquest. This guy was big time Mitran. First steps to being true princess's to Asmodeus."
"Hecate, you think that cursed holy symbol is the thing the cardinal be looking for?" she says.
Hecate rolls her eyes. Sorcerors. "Yes, I do, since you ask. Silver and sapphire, just like he said. Do you think you could ask your, um, slave to pick up Sir Balin's armour and sword and bring it with us? I've a feeling that we shouldn't waste, you know, resources that are provided."
"Where is she anyway?"
Saranda's slave timidly steps out from behind the door where she'd been hiding and takes the indicated items.
Adrastus Thorn sits in his study seeming almost as if he hasn't moved an inch from when he gave you your orders at dusk yesterday. "You've returned."
The high priest holds the trinket and pauses as if in deep contemplation. He watches the holy symbol glitter in the light. "A pretty enough thing, eh?" he muses. "This is a holy symbol of Mitra - in particular the sort favored by the Knights of the Alerion. Perhaps you already knew that. Remember this symbol. This is the mark of those who destroyed our faith and sought to banish all trace of the worship of our Father from these shores. These, my friends, are your enemies."
He tosses the holy symbol back to you. "Keep it. It may aid you in disguising yourself." He then smiles. "You have done well. Escaping from Branderscar, slaughtering Sir Balin ... yes, you are worthy. Now, let us complete your training."
----------------------------------------------
Over the next three months, you're kept carefully sequestered. Your physical needs are taken care of, and slaves are readily available to attend to your every desire. This is no time for relaxation, however. You go through a period of intense training. Tiadora takes great pleasure in watching your various failures and suffering, but the Cardinal is a genius and teacher par excellence. His lessons are focused and never wasteful. He drills each of you individually and as a team and possesses an extremely-detailed knowledge of your current strengths and weaknesses. At the end of the three months, you've been forged into his perfect weapon - his Nessian Knot.
Going with her theme song again, we actually see her training here.
Time: 00:00-00:37 - First training with slaves
Time: 00:37-00:46 - Training with a summoned swarm
Time: 00:46-01:00 - First mock battle with Tiadora, actually managed to catch her with her guard down...pure luck, though.
Time: 01:00-01:12 - Consequence of first slave training: Training with candles, to improve accuracy and speed.
Time: 01:12-01:20 - Coming up into her room, only to find a test waiting.
Time: 01:20-01:38 - Training with Tiadora again, who holds back but pushes Robin to her limit.
Time: 01:38-01:52 - Tiadora reported to the Cardinal...who wants Robin to "hit him with her best shot" to show him what she can do.
Time: 01:52-02:10 - Advanced training with Slaves
Time: 02:10-02:30 - Learning to defend against arrows and bolts.(Rebuff Talent, coming next level) - still some room for improvement...
Time: 02:30-02:47 - The Cardinal wants to see what she learned, again.
AND we stop the training montage right there
The past several months had been a rather rewarding time for the Changling woman. After scolding her favored slave and giving her an adequate punishment of an undetermined nature, training had started without a moments notice.
In this time, Saranda was worked hard to improve herself and her abilities to their fullest. She became quicker at throwing out her spells and drawing her weapon to attack and defend herself, along with a brisk regiment of exercise that strengthen her resolve to live and fight on. The Cardinal has taught her how to use magical equipment and proper knowledge of spells at an early level. On the off hours, she learned to communicate with sign language in order to speak with Robin better and work better as a whole with her team.
During this training, she noticed rather bizarre changes to her body. Her skin without the illusionary magic became more tan colored, a 360 from the pale skin she had only months ago. During what said to be a mishap, a vial of alchemist fire had landed right next to her on accident, if Tiadora to believed, but miraculously Saranda was unscathed, besides her clothes being burned up and revealing all too much skin. This strange resistance had been surmised to be some sort of boon from her heritage of infernals possibly.
By the time those three months were over, Saranda had never felt better.
Hecate spends much of the time in the library, with her scribe-slave, simply absorbing knowledge. Her first stop is all the books on engineering: her intention is to learn about golems, but by the time she's finished she can converse knowledgeably on load-bearing, trigonometry and differential calculus. She learns another 'forbidden' language - Abyssal - that had previously escaped her notice; and she improves both her theoretical and practical understanding of alchemy, although not without some mishaps along the way.
Not all wisdom is contained in books, however, and Hecate's forays into training with her companions grant her a better understanding of their abilities. The sign-language that Robin teaches her is going to be extremely useful, she can see already. (She also - inadvertently - discovers what uses Robin is putting her slave to; it is weeks before she can meet Robin's gaze without blushing with crimson embarrassment).
Her own magic is growing in strength, and she is - for the first time - able to summon a genuine devil. It is only a Lemure, lowest of the low, and its form holds for barely 15 seconds before dissipating, and the effort leaves her flat on her back, with a nosebleed (as well as a giddy euphoria); but she perseveres and gradually is able to exert control. The nosebleeds, however, remain: the shortcuts she is taking to accelerate the summoning process are not exactly safe. But then, she apparently abandoned 'safe' some time ago.
Her other endeavour over the course of the three months is in forgery: in the time available, she prepares a number of backup identities for herself and her two companions.
Robin, feeling joy over their victory, and having passed the challenges set before them without too much trouble, is eager to learn more. Not only that, she finds herself as a teacher herself, when both Hecate and Saranda agree to the Cardinal's suggestion to learn sign language from Robin, to further strenghten and bind the knot. Not only would they be able to communicate more freely, it could also give them a tactical advantage.
Of course, it was more limiting than verbal speech, needing two free hands and more time for unskilled users, but then, verbal communication wasn't really an option for Robin.
Under Tiadora's supervision, she spends time refining her control of the flames she calls, allowing her to focus a stronger fire into a more accurately choosen area.
At first, Tiadora intended to be cruel, by having slaves hold torches or candles so that any mistake on Robin's part would hurt her favorite toys. But Tiadora quickly found out that Robin didn't seem particularily concerned with the wellbeing of her servants, and stopped those tests with a kind of...respect, for Robin, kind of like a superior surprised that their underlings can independently get things right.
That's not to say Robin did not enjoy her slaves, especially the girl she had picked originally. Training simply was more important, and nothing would stand in her way, especially not contempt for objects she got attached to.
Whenever there was sufficient break in her training, and she felt tensed up, she made use of her slaves...skills. The girl had slim, long, dexterious fingers, a flexible tongue and plenty of stamina.
Not hearing anything did not mean that Robin was incapable of making noise, and one day early during their training, when her room door was not properly closed, she failed to notice Hecate coming to check on her. When their eyes met, she was already on the verge of release and got pushed beyond that very moment.
Hecate seemed...different, for several weeks after, while Robin did not really spend time thinking about what happened. They were MEANT to take care of all their desires while here...including the more base ones. If the girl was too frigid for that, that was her loss. Or was she? The violent blushing could have other meanings, too...and Robin sometimes found herself exploring those theoretical scenarios when "relaxing". The girl was beautiful AND smart, after all, even if she was bit too skinny.
With the Cardinal, Robin trained her skills in deception, and reading other people's attempts at it. Her unique heritage manifested further in her during these sessions, and any lies she wove were subtly empowered by it...to the point that she managed to surprise even the Cardinal, at times. Stating that she planned to pose as a Mitran Priestess, he took time to educate her further on religious matters with a sadistic smile.
Her connection with the hellfire deepened, as well, the boon that Asmodeus had granted as part of their pact. While her companion hadn't changed much, it was now able to momentarily bring the primal fire it was drawn from into being in this world, adding searing flames to it's bite. But the act of bridging the planes was distracting, so would give opponents an opening...it would be important to use this newfound gift tactically.
As your training draws to a close, the Cardinal imparts one final lesson to each of you.
"You shall be my angel slayer."
"Deception is a tool. Master it."
"Let's perfect your favorite spell."
-----------------------------------------------
At the conclusion of your training, the three of you are summoned to Cardinal Thorn's chamber.
“Welcome, my children,” he says in a deep resonant voice that has an almost inhuman quality to it. “Training is at an end. You have proven yourself worthy. Now, it is time for you to use that training and take on your first mission.
“Your mission is war, my children. You will bring war to Talingarde.
“You have two objectives. First, you will see a shipment of munitions delivered to a bugbear chieftain named Sakkarot Fire-Axe. He makes his camp on the northern coast of Lake Tarik beyond the Watch Wall. With this shipment, the Fire-Axe will have resources enough to unite the barbarous humanoid tribes of the north and light the fire of war.
“Sitting on the dock as we speak is the longship Frosthamar captained by Kargeld Odenkirk. Tomorrow when the ship is resupplied it will be your transport. The captain is a ruthless mercenary and not to be trusted. He knows nothing of the specifics of our mission and you should keep it that way. He knows he is smuggling cargo to the north
beyond the Watch Wall. That is all he need know.
“Once the cargo is safely delivered, he will take you just south across the lake under cover of darkness and land you near the town of Aldencross. There our contract with Captain Odenkirk will be concluded.
“It is a shame how greedy he has proven. I had hoped to let the captain serve me again but it seems he is too much of a liability. Kill him. Kill his crew. Burn his ship and leave no survivors. It is crucial that no one suspects our involvement and that loose ends are taken care of. Be sure to reclaim the coin I gave him. Best not to be wasteful.
“That done, you will begin your second task. We will do more still to aid our ally the Fire-axe. The bugbears are mighty warriors but poor siege engineers. You will infiltrate the tower Balentyne, keystone of the Watch Wall, kill its commander and open the gate for Sakkarot’s horde.
“Once the shaggy monstrosities pierce the Watch Wall, the bugbears will pillage and lay waste to the townships of the north and the local garrisons will have no choice but to meet the Fire-Axe in the open field. Sakkarot is the most brilliant, gifted and murderous bugbear of his generation. I expect these battles will go poorly for the knights and yeoman of fair Talingarde.
“Do all of this and then when your task is done, break this clay seal.” He hands you a delicately carved clay seal adorned with a tangled knot of thorns surrounding the holy symbol of Asmodeus. “I will have more instructions then. Succeed and I will see you rewarded handsomely. Fail or betray me and you will pray for the comfort of Hell before I am done with you.
“The mission you start upon today is a holy mission. The people of Talingarde think they have seen the last of the mighty Asmodeus. Soon enough we will remind them that there is no escaping the grasp of Hell. Let us toast our success.” He pours one glass of deep red wine for each of you and then finally pours one for himself. He raises the glass and offers a toast.
“To war.”
Minor Alchemy
Hecate winces and tries not to cry out as she tips the reagents she has prepared onto the brand on her arm; this is going to hurt, a lot.
It does, more even than the original branding - which was a momentary thing; this is ongoing, and she has to wait, whimpering in a pain that goes beyond agony, while the alchemical concoction eats through the scar tissue, transforming it into an entirely mundane blemish.
Finally, she calculates that it is done; sobbing in relief, she washes the mixture off and applies a soothing salve. The only consolation is that it does appear to have worked, perfectly.
At the briefing
Hecate mentally notes the objectives they are given; she's going to need to learn Goblin so that they can actually communicate with the bugbears.
She also reviews what she already knows about their destinations and encounters.
They're also going to need to undertake a campaign of sabotage, which means that they'll need a number of identities, some of them as common civilians who will be overlooked. She smiles to herself. She has prepared well.
She raises the glass of red wine the Cardinal offers her, accepting it with a curtsy that would do her justice in any nobleman's house.
"To war, and victory."
She drinks deeply; the excitement of the challenge (3 of them to bring down a fortress!) combined with the alcohol brings some colour to her gaunt cheeks. The Cardinal has set her a wonderful intellectual exercise, with real-world applications - a chance for her to demonstrate what she has learned. She resolves that he will not be disappointed.
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Identity Crises
It is typical of Hecate that, in those areas where she is knowledgeable, she can be a little on the presumptuous side; so it is with her forgeries. Intent on creating the best possible documents, she neglects to ask either Robin or Saranda for their input, figuring that she's smart enough to have it all worked out.
And thus one morning she descends the stairs to the breakfast-room (not that she eats breakfast; it's just something that sits on the plate while she reads, until someone comes and takes it away), flourishing a slew of papers - which she promptly drops. "Oh. Right, um, here they are - new identities." Activating the power of her Iron Circlet, she suddenly transforms into a rather severe-looking middle aged lady, with long iron-grey hair: "This is me: Inquisitor Third Class of the Church of Mitra; Saranda, here's your papers, as a Priestess of Mitra; and Robin, here are your papers as an Oracle-Novice of the Fire Undying."
She pauses. "I've, um, I've also made some backup papers in case we need to be a bit more, you know, inconspicuous." She transforms back into someone who looks more like her real self. "I'm an apothecary, with some alchemy skills; Saranda, you're my cousin, the youngest daughter of Lord and Lady Brathwaite. They're real people, but they're safely dead, and anyway, it was the third Lady Brathwaite, so nobody can keep track of all the offspring. So, here's your patent of nobility. It means you're entitled to be called The Honorable, but you don't have any land. The third Lady Brathwaite was my mother's sister, but she was only titled by her marriage to Lord Brathwaite, so I'm just a commoner, but we've stayed in touch..." Hecate realises she's babbling, but it's because she really, really doesn't want to get to...
"Robin. Um." And this seemed like such a good idea when she came up with it. "You're my, um, sister. And you can't speak because you're, um, mentally... um."
Just say it. "You're-mentally-disabled-because-I-needed-an-explanation-for-why-you're deaf and, and, it was the one I came up with so people will assume that - that you're stupid - which means you can gather information and they won't be any the wiser and they won't know you can lip-read and it won't matter if - if you're found somewhere you - you shouldn't be - and-" Now she really is babbling. She takes a deep breath. "So. Here's the papers certifying you, and here's the papers showing that I'm your primary carer, and here's..."
She falls silent under Robin's glare.
"Um." It seemed like such a good idea at the time...
At the briefing -
Bugbears, hu? I suppose we'll use what resources and allies we can muster. That whole theme of burning everything to the ground IS great, though. The cardinal knows what a girl wants to hear. Oh well. The tower Balentyne will make for a nice signal fire to let the bugbears know the gate is wide open...
Robin's mind wanders, half-thinking about their future tasks, half in the present, watching both Tiadora and the Cardinal absently. But a wicked smile shows on her face when she picks up her glass, and drinks with the others.
---------------------------
Identity crisis
Sister, hu? Ah, mentally disabled sister. I am to play a retard?...what she says could work, that people leave themselves open...but what about my dignity?...
Robin stands up suddenly, taking one of the papers Hecate is holding out, with instructions and a detailed medical explanation for Robin...and the carefully written parchment suddenly bursts into flames, turning to ashes in seconds.
Robin's wicked smile returns as she looks at Hecate, who is standing still like a Bunny facing a Snake, then touches her cheek gently:'I'll improvise, ...sister. Oh, this will be fun. You best learn for your role as well if you are my primary carer. You can start getting basic routine right now by feeding me breakfast.'
She sits back down, then gestures at the still-frozen Hecate in sign language: Go ahead. I'm waiting., and opening her mouth, letting some drool drop on the floor.
Hecate glares at Robin: "Those papers took HOURS to make! Now I have to go and put them together again... I am NOT leaving it to improvisation - we are going to do this properly."
She spins round and storms off back to the library, before turning at the door to fix the flame-haired girl with another glare. "And you can- you can damn well feed yourself! You're not a child."
"To the death of Talingrade, and its rebirth in the fire."
"O' I am to be a very proper lady I be now cousin, however," she changes her voice from imitating the finery of a young noblewoman, to her usual self, "I can lie my way out of quiet a few things, sleep for all the others, but I know next to nothing of Mitra."
Robin, stopping the drooling, signs to Saranda: You could stay near me...the Cardinal was teaching me even more about Mitra, and my parents were...followers. If questions are ask, I could brief you telepathically on what to say. Or I could teach you on the way.
Some hours later, Hecate returns with an identical list, which she presents to Robin with a thin smile. "I've looked up a number of conditions, as well as the symptoms that would be considered either dangerous or antisocial and would attract unwanted attention. You will read this, and you will learn them. If you burn these, then I'll go to the Cardinal and tell him you're endangering the mission and you need Tiadora to instruct you. You can try setting fire to her, if you like, but I doubt it will work."
No umming, no ah's - this is Hecate in the same mood as when she forged documents to get hold of forbidden books, as when she faced down Sir Balin: certain, and without hesitation.
Robin takes the list, then places it on her table without looking at it, eyes focused on Hecate: 'I have set Tiadora on fire before. During training. Admittedly, she didn't seem particulary impressed. Further, I doubt the Cardinal will approve of infighting in our knot, even less of appeals for him to settle differences. I will read it, as a personal favor to you, and because ship voyages tend to be incredibly boring. But you would do well to remember that my loyalties lie with Asmodeus first, and the Cardinal second. Those who hold no power over me and mean to give me orders will come to regret it in time.'
Hecate had spent time with Robin during their training long enough to know that this was not a threat. It was simply facts in Robin's mind that she spoke openly. Robin was a free spirit that did not take well to orders or restraints...possibly intended by the Cardinal as a counterpoint to Hecate's meticulous planning.
Hecate can't at first believe that her 'appeal to authority' has failed - her mind whirs with stratagems, plans, ideas, ways of bringing the Cardinal in on her side...
...or you could, you know, NOT do that. What with Robin being on your side and everything...
She sighs, and deflates slightly from her previous indignation. "Sorry," she apologises to the flame-haired girl. "It would probably have been a better idea to run this past you in advance, but I've spent most of the last few years studying forbidden things on my own - I'm not used to sharing my plans, I've had to keep them hidden from everyone. I should have checked this with you first, though, I can see that now. If you don't like the idea, I'm sure I can - we can - come up with something else."
She blushes slightly under the intensity of Robin's focused stare.
"I'm not putting a diaper on you Robin," Saranda laughs before continuing to look over the documents given to her, "Same with me Hecate. Got to keep low or the no fun police would have you hangin' by the throat or roasting at the stake. My mum found that out the hard way."
'It's fine. You like planning. It works for you. My experience with plans was that they never work as soon as other people get involved. Because the others don't play along nice. What works for me is to go with a general idea, then handle things as they come up. No detailed contingencies, no in-depth analysis...just roll with it and come out on top. Your idea is not bad...the opposite, really. But if I am to do this, I'll do things my way, not just follow a script blindly...I may use your paper as inspiration, though.', Robin's stare weakens and a more friendly expression returns to her face.
The relief rises off Hecate like steam as a more friendly expression returns to Robin's face, dispelling the atmosphere of hostility that had temporarily entered the room.
"That's fine - they're just suggestions, anyway. I - I'm glad you like my idea, though."
She gives a slightly impish smile. "And if I could set things on fire the way you can, I probably wouldn't bother with plans, either! But those of us who are a bit more... limited in our problem-solving need to compensate somehow."
Hecate's Knowledge Results
Little is known about the Savage North, but it's said to be a vast empty wasteland of ice and monsters. Many have dreamed of conquering it, but thus far, none have tried. The Savage North is separated from the rest of Talingarde by a chain of twelve castles. Known collectively as the Watch Wall, they keep the nation safe from any attempted incursions from the North.
Recently, there have been rumors of a new warlord who's attempting to unite the various monster tribes. Sakkarot Fire-Axe is a large, black-furred Bugbear who wields an axe of flame. He's said to possess an exceptional intelligence.
Aldencross is a small town of approximately 1800 people. It's purpose is to support the Watchtower Balentyne, and everyone in the town has some sort of connection to it. Their sons man the battlements, their daughters marry the soldiers, their labor feeds and clothes them, etc. It's an immense source of town pride. Aside from the Watchtower, the most notable building would be the Lord's Dalliance Inn. If you're ever visiting the town, this is where you'll stay.
The Watchtower Balentyne is the cornerstone of the Watch Wall. Guarding the stone bridge that is the easiest route to the Savage North, the Watchtower has never been conquered. The Cardinal, unfortunately, has no information about its defenses, but you can expect large numbers of guards. There's also rumors of an angelic presence in the tower, but that's probably just hearsay.
The Frosthamar is a single-masted knarr with a square sail. It is similar to a Viking longship but wider and with a deeper hull better suited to carrying cargo. And the Frosthamar is obviously loaded with cargo. Sitting heavy in the water, she holds twenty four tons of weaponry, arrows and shields emblazoned with a flaming axe.
The captain is a grizzled north-man with a wiry beard, pale blonde hair and countless scars. This is Kargeld Odenkirk and he is, as promised, a ruthless mercenary with little thought of anyone but himself. His crew consists of a half dozen grim sailors who speak little of the common Talirean tongue.
“You will guard our boat all the way north, yes?” he
asks once you're introduced.
He grunts his assent. "Then I will take you to the cursed north past hope and life." That is the extent of grim Kargeld's small talk.
Hecate remembers from her briefing that the Cardinal described the captain as a ruthless mercenary; she supposes that he is unlikely to take a 17-year-old girl seriously and accordingly has taken on her 'inquisitor' appearance (if not the identity): a severe looking middle-aged lady with long, iron-grey hair tied up in a bun. She does not - at this point - include any Mitran symbols in the disguise.
She nods at Odenkirk: "Captain. I assume you have been briefed. You may assume that we have too. We shall carry out our orders and we expect the same from you."
Hecate suppresses a grin as she hears the assurance in her voice: pretending to be someone else is fun! She shoots a quick look of glee at Saranda and Robin, curious to see whether they are sharing in the same sense of... adventure. She realises that it's the same thrill as when she first used a forged signature and first opened a book that she knew was forbidden: an almost identical mix of trepidation and delight.
This feeling evaporates almost without trace, in the blink of an eye, as she sees the ship: the Cardinal cannot be serious, surely?! Bad enough to have to go by sea at all, but she was expecting - hoping for - something with at least a cabin. But this has to be some sort of hoax. They cannot possibly be expected to make such a lengthy journey in a ... glorified barrel.
She keeps her mouth shut and tries to keep her expression neutral.
Yes, we'll guard you and your boat...right until the moment we disembark at our goal..., Robin thinks to herself.
The captain did not seem like a person who would be FUN to talk with. Neither did any of the sailors seem to be enjoyable company...
You will die, you will die, and you will die, too..., Robin remembers their orders, and see's no reason to hide her appearance. Knowing they would be going to the inhospitable north, she's wearing thick cold weather clothing.
While Hecate talks with the Captain, short as their exchange may have been, Robin moves past them and onto the ship, wordlessly.
No cabins, no protection from weather, no nothing. Cheapskate..., her thoughts wander to the Cardinal, then ponders possible solutions.
Could we turn
XXXXXXX
XXXXXXX
XXXXXXX
into
XXXXXXXXX
XXOOOOOX
XXXXXOXXX
Bssically, move some of them around to create a girl-cave we could cover with tent-hulls and blankets, creating a "cabin" of sorts on the ship? It may be in Kargelds best interest to not have his sailors be distracted all day by a couple woman in plain sight.
On a ship with a bunch of seamen. There is a joke there, somewhere, Saranda thinks to herself. The boat itself, in her mind, was to be expected. It was low profile and non-descriptive, probably common in the frigid north.
"No quarters, don't expect your crew to be eyen' us instead of workin' on their duties? Not that I don't mind, Saranda says coyly.
The cargo takes up the entirety of the lower deck. It's so well-packed, that you'd be hard-pressed to find room for a copper piece. Everyone spends their time on the upper deck, where there's no shelter from the elements. At night, though, the sail is taken down and made into a crude cover that ensures a dry night's sleep for everyone - on the bare deck planks.
Ok, girl...if a sailor wakes you at night with indecent behaviour on his part...don't burn him instantly. If the sail catches fire, we are stranded...lead him to the aft of the ship, THEN burn him.
Robin is busy pondering and daydreaming, while the mechanics of their travel are explained to them, looking over the crew and judging the whole lot of them to be unsavory fellas.
If I burn one, they others will likely leave us alone. If Hecate keeps up her looks, they will likely not go after her if they try something...and Saranda looks a bit strange ever since the training...na, they'll probably go after me, they also stare respectlessly. I wonder which one will burn first.
It doesn't take long to discover that the Frosthamar isn't going to be particularly enjoyable. There are no chamber pots, so the crew relieves themselves over the railing. The rations consist of hardtack and beer, supplemented by any deer the crew manages to shoot during the ship's (rare) coastline stops. It takes half a day to sail down the Varnyn River and out into the open ocean. The Frosthamar hugs the coast, and you can see countless farming communities and fishing villages go by. People often wave when they see you, and Captain Kargeld is always quick to return the favor. "Wouldn't want 'em to get suspicious, eh?"
Your trip is slow, and it takes a full week to reach the great city of Daveryn - and sail right past. "This is no pleasure cruise. Besides, I won't get our cargo within a mile of a Talirean harbormaster." Finally, after what seems an eternity, you can see the Watch Wall off in the distance.
Hecate sees something off in the distance, just as the captain's face turns grim. "Patrol ship, and she's seen us, sure as damnation. And there is no way my Frosthamar will outrun her loaded like this. One look at our cargo, and they'll know us for exactly what we are - weapon smugglers."
It's likely the Blade of St. Marius - one of the more well-known patrol vessels. Its captain, Edward Sambryl, is a skilled swordsman.
--------------------------------------------
...There are no chamber pots, so the crew relieves themselves over the railing...
Robin, currently laying on the deck, watching the clouds and daydreaming about the luxuries in the Cardinal's mansion, notices that the deck vibrates with hasty footsteps from a multitude of feet. Sitting up to see what the chaotic movement is about, she sees a Patrol Ship approach in the distance. Shortly considering changing into her clerics garbs, then realizing it's still very cold, and there's still those sailors around, she instead briefly touches her headband, her form wavering shortly, and her cold weather outfit morphing into a robe emblazoned with the symbol of mitra.
Calling Hecate and Saranda's attention to herself, not particularily caring abou the Captain's opinion, she signs: Parley? Or Fight?
Hecate has been utterly miserable since they set sail: even once the seasickness wore off, that just made the lack of hygiene and comfort more obvious.
She has found a place at the side of the deck, out of the wind, where - if she crouches and leans forward at just the right angle - the cold salt spray will trickle down her neck. What she was actually looking for was a place where she could lean forward and protect her books from getting water on them; but no such luck.
Thus, deprived of her beloved reading, cold, wet, and sunk in misery, she has wandered the deck over and over and over, desperately searching for something to take her mind off the present. So it is that she spots the ship. "Oh. The, um, Blade of St Marius, I think. Captain Edward Sambryl - known to be a good swordsman."
Even as she supplies this information, her mind is racing. "I'd prefer to use this as a test of our documents, see if they stand up to scrutiny; but, um, I don't think we can hide the fact we're traveling with an ogre... So that means we should test our training in another way: battle."
She signals Robin: "What's the range you can shoot those fire blasts?"
Hecate, Robin and Saranda confer in a mixture of touch-telepathy and sign language, before reaching a decision.
Still in her 'inquisitor' persona, Hecate approaches Odenkirk. "Very well, Captain - here's what's going to happen. I've got papers showing that I'm an inquisitor of Mitra, and I'll demand that the other captain leaves us alone. If that fails - kill him. We will deal with their sails so they will not escape. If we have to kill them all and sink their boat, that is what we will do. But I hope it won't come to that."
After that, there's nothing to be done but wait for the Blade of St Marius to catch up with them.
Shouldn't we stop and hail them? Keeping moving and making them catch up may sour the mood of their captain. If we hold for a routine inspection with our documents prepared, he may be more willing to trust us..., Robin signs.
Then she touches Hecate for more telepathy:'Hej, do tell...did Sir Balin have any notable relatives? Especially one's in a family business of zealotry?'
"Diplomacy or force. Pick one. I'll talk to Grumble."
Momentarily flustered, Hecate frowns at Robin. What? Oh. Um...
She racks her brains, trying to remember what she knows about the late witch-hunter.
While she's doing that, she gives Odenkirk further instructions. "Captain, let's not delay this - let's stop and wait for the other boat to reach us. Running looks suspicious."
Sir Balin is a traveling errant Knight of Aleria who's accumulated a modest amount of fame due to his skill at hunting secret Asmodean cultists. Unfortunately, his near-constant roving has prevented him from gaining any real political or military influence. His name will likely be recognized, but it won't gain you any special treatment.
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Once the patrol closes hailing distance, you're ordered to "Heave to in the name of the King!" Captain Odenkirk complies, as per your instructions, and a boarding party prepares to come aboard. There appear to be five of them - Captain Sambryl and four spear-wielding sailors. All of them look suspiciously at the Frosthamar as the Mitran Captain demands to speak to whoever is in charge.
Sitting atop one of the crates, feet playfully dangling, the young Mitran Novice of the Undying Fire pointed at the middle-aged inquisitor wordlessly.
The Mitran Captain demands to speak to whoever is in charge.
"That would be me, Captain Sambryl. Yes, I know your name, but you do not know mine. Let us remedy that. Here are my papers, and those of my companions."
The lean, middle-aged woman with iron-grey hair fixes the captain with a piercing gaze. "As an inquisitor of Mitra, I must ask that you let us pass without further hindrance. We are on a mission to the North - the details of which you are not cleared for."
She pauses, and looks him full in the eye. "In fact, it would be best for you, Captain, if you simply omitted all details of this encounter from your log. In return, I will ensure that no record of it is made in our annals - there is, after all, no point in putting a premature end to your promising career simply because you encountered us when you were not cleared to do so. I trust I can rely on your discretion, as you may rely on mine."
Behind the serenity of the disguise, Hecate quietly holds her breath, hoping that the papers she forged withstand the scrutiny of this Mitran.
"You Inquisitor types are all business," Saranda says walking up in her priest get-up, "Yulia Garland, it is a pleasure to meet you.We heard many a good thing about you Captain Sambryl."
The captain scours Hecate's documents thoroughly before handing them back to her after a long moment. With a quick motion, he signals his men to begin searching your vessel. "You may be an inquisitor, ma'am, but my word is law in these waters. Now, out of respect, I'll give you one more chance to tell me what you're really doing out here."
Hecate's face twists in anger - and frustration: why won't these - these fools just stay out of her way, and leave her alone? She's not looking for conflict, but always it finds her.
The fact that the captain then starts babbling about the law only makes her crosser. "No, captain. You know nothing of the Law and it does not heed your words - it heeds mine. Watch closely."
Stepping back out of his reach, she calls out in the Infernal tongue, her mind reaching out across the dimensions. Finding what she seeks, she flexes her will and drags it into being; a lumpen wave of fatty flesh and waving claws appears directly in front of her, engaging the captain.
She has learned shortcuts to speed this up, but it comes with a price: blood trickles from her nose, staining her robes.
Ignoring it, she calls out to Odenkirk: "O captain - my captain, I mean - please repel boarders. And Grumblejack: looks like dinner is served."
The pretence is over; now they have to kill them all. It's all so... annoying. WHY won't these Mitrans just mind their own business?!