Hrungnir, best you can tell these are a little band of spoiled rich fey kids. One of them probably stole their dad's minor illusion wand and they're bored, don't really have the emotional maturity to do anything other than juvenile pranks.
Deimus catches them off-guard "Er...what? You're not supposed to like it...we were..." he seems totally creeped out.
Another slaps his shoulder "C'mon...lets just get out of here..." and they run off, tripping over each other.
Velvet opens the door and there's a giant grizzly bear inside, nearly twice the size of Carnadine. "Oh! My most sincere apologies emissary Orsamsson. We were told you had departed early this morning."
"No no, its fine, come in, come in. I was just collecting a few documents while the carriage is repaired." the bear responds.
Hrungnir, the voice is quite familiar to you...you think it matches the small fox who caught your performance in the courtyard earlier.
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Scutarius threads a strong rope through the banner and soon raises it up the flying pole, flapping gently in the courtyard breeze. The silver skull is a sharp contrast to the void of the starry sky, and beneath the Riverwood Regalia of Thornwalker's house stands in support. Carnadine feels a surge in his fighting spirit.
Carnadine politely closes with the bear to greet him formally, "Emissary Orsamsson. Pleasure to meet you, even accidentally. Please allow me to introduce myself and my companions. I am Knight Captain Incorporeal, Carnadine of Bruvik. This is Hrungnir, Master of Runes. Raseri, a Thorsdottir. Kjeta, an Alemaiden. Lexi, a Shadow. Deimus, a brave Master of Crafts. And my squire, Scutarius Thornwalker of House Rivenwood. We are an embassy from Zobeck to the Shadow Court."
"What advice could you provide new emissaries from Midgard?"
He puts his papers aside and takes on a polite, respectful posture...some 10 ft tall on his hind legs. "Gorvalk Orsamsson, Astral Walker of the Moonlit Glades, and First Emissary to Heirophant Berlasdottir under Gulfwyr Moonrage, Chief of the Whitepaw." you note the heraldry on his luggage and wax seals is a black bear rampant with sword and claws.
"Not often we find visitors from the Motherland...you see we too were once of the Midgard norths. I would urge caution against the corruption of shadow. It works on mortals differently than fey here...spending too much time outside the protective walls of the palace will lead to a quick decline." he takes a moment to look everyone over, frowning at Lexi and growling sadly "...ah but, I see the affliction has already taken root. When did you arrive?"
"We came through a portal about five to six days ago, I think. Time is difficult to track here." Carnadine replies.
"What's wrong with Lexi? How do we cure her affliction, sir?"
Deimus looks at the fey brats run off and gives a metallic sigh. Just an illusion, he thinks, not Zobeck... How he missed his city! How he missed the Ghetto!
He takes a moment to push this melancholy away and gets back to his tinkering. The machine needed to be ready before the crowds crowded for the tournament!
"Nothing is wrong with me, dear hearts."
"I see...yes, it tends to progress on the quarters of Moon. My people have developed ritual cures and wards over the years, using the power of moonlight and silver...but they are gifts understood only by our Elders. Protective cairns ring our realm to the north, but Shadow ever assails our border and vigilance is always necessary..." he takes another brief look at Lexi, only the slightest hint of doubt on his face.
"It works to divide. Opposing personality leads to melancholy, melancholy progresses further to paranoia...then conflict. In even a small community, those resistant try in vain to help the afflicted...only to fall further, more vulnerable to despair. In our history, we even turned on our own kin, and the stink of spilled blood brought the attention of umbral vampires...which remain a shared enemy we fight alongside the numerous Courts of the Shadow Fey."
He runs a scrub brush across a long traveler's cloak continuing "The Corruption's purpose is escape, understand. The acts of betrayal, murder, and despair are not just emotions...they work to bore holes in the thin fabric between dimensions...ultimately leaking Shadow back into Midgard. I would welcome you to visit our Glades should a case progress too far, though it is quite a long and difficult journey itself. The palace walls protect to some extent, subject to the Queen's whims of course." He suddenly remembers something and fetches a little bone necklace out of a lockbox adding "There are also the Lantern Bearers, those of our kind who range the shadow wilds...but chancing upon one would likely prove a difficult pursuit. Your best course is to perhaps finish your business quickly and return to the light of Midgard..."
"Very well, if you pay me triple what I was offered by Zakhan and assure me that no more of these creatures remain in me, I will agree to your terms."
"Well met," Raseri says after he introduces himself. She finds his assessment of Lexi's condition a little alarming, just as much as she found herself wanting to ask more about where they were from. Maybe, even though they were here for a long time, they know some about the Northlands. It hardly matters, he was likely eager to return home.
"You have graced us with your wisdom, Gruvalk Orsamsson. We shall do our best to heed it," she says instead of the questions burning at the back of her mind.
He paused at the reserved phrasing of the northerner...this was clearly a bear who made his living navigating the said and unsaid subtleties of court "I'm sorry was there something else? By all means, if I can aid you in any way I will. You caught me intruding in your chamber after all." he smiles warmly.
"Ah, I found myself a long way from home some years ago. I was wondering if you or your people would know of Thurik the Bold and his kingdom. I know that it has likely been a long time since you came here from the Northlands, but I thought that you may keep watch over your old home," Raseri answers, figuring that lying or being silent wasn't likely to get her anywhere.
It scrumfles its snout "Hmm...I know a Thurikson the Red? Dwarven. But nay, it's rather our old home watches over us. You see in the Moonlit Glades, it is the Midgardian moon that shines. There are at times Northerners like yourself who cross into our lands, some choose to stay...but a true reckoning of history? No...we haven't such in the Glades. Ours is an oral tradition spanning some 5 centuries in the Shadows, and more apt to warn young cubs of dangers than to track lineage."
"I see. Sorry to bother you then. I can see that you are busy, and I will trouble you no further," Raseri apologies to the towering bear. "Perhaps I will find my way to you after this is over and I can hear those stories for myself someday."
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"Hrungnir, would you mind if I borrowed your Snowcrash for the fight? It's always better to bring a few weapons, in case." Carnadine asks.
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The games kick off mid-morning with their usual fanfare: the previous days ransoms posted and gossiped...the new days fighters admired and scorned. But when word gets out Zaeri's Balhiir of Spellfire is in play for the noon Honor Duel, an electric arc spreads throughout the courtyard and everyone is energized to their highest pomp and displays. Armors and steel swords glimmer like quicksilver under the light of dragonettes, bodices of young courtesans are as low as they can possibly go, and everything seems a paragon to the ways of the Shadow Fey, their rich traditions bursting with immortality.
The older, more astute courtiers -- canny to the silent dagger of politics that stays concealed behind every event -- are just as excited as the blissful ignorant. There is great debate on whether or not Zaeri will fight in the Queen's name, and what that would mean were he defeated by a Zobecker...perish the thought. Some go as far to postulate Zaeri actually hated Haylcaster, and the whole thing is just another ploy for House Roren to further secure or advance its unique seat in the mortal realm. Yet more consider the duel a sort of 'proxy war' between the two realms, one whose results will cast a long shadow on the inevitable conflicts to follow...as the Queen reclaims Zobeck in the name of Shadow.
And hearing it all was the kobold clad in mechanus, peddling his stimulant bean drink and fueling the spread of rumors and social merriment. Deimus' brew was a new shadow that flowed through crowd with a surprising edge.
Kjeta's brew flowed too, and the crowd's attention offered endless tweaks in her budding new distillery as it worked overtime in its infancy to supply, supply, supply.
Then there was the Runesman, heart yet hoping beyond hope for another glimpse of perfection...his love a hunger that had become an engine driving the ancient arts to new limits.
The Shadow even was caught in the bustle, Lexi's corruption had twisted her persona to its full opposite...to delight in happiness and company. When she saw Carnadine enter fully armored in his heavy Stechzeug, followed by regalia carried high by his squire, she just wanted to root.
And here he came, the Knight Imperial...
Raseri takes the time between moving into her new quarters and the match to change into something more refined than her normal attire. She wears one of the Northlands style outfits, a blue and gray affair with gold and silver brocade and purple trim, she had purchased with Hugrekki belted at her hip. Underneath the sleeves of her tunic she wears the bangles they'd been gifted. At the shoulder of her right sleeve is the badge of the Gray Ladies, changed to better fit with the style of her clothes, but still visible and recognizable. She clasps the cloak around her shoulders and tries not to feel naked without her armor when she leaves her room.
Knight Imperial
Deimus had everything ready for quick deployment and assembly, while Carnadine prepared.
When he feels he is no longer needed, which happens quite early, he hurries out to the stands. In departing, he says: "Carnadine, I know you'll have other thingsz on your mind today... I mean, from the gossips, it seems the fate of our City may rest on the tip of your lance... But I don't believe this is so. Though yesz, a victory would help, anyhow, a display of note, in any case... Not that you should... The cost has been so high already... Anywaysz, free espresso for all of you today! Ok, I'm off. I'll be rooting from the stands. I've szeen you fight. You are a splendid fighter. Knock his Fey ass off his shadow horse!"
And Deimus rushes to the stands. He sets up his machine with manic care, then places a sign above that says "Espresso, it'll knock you off your horse". He serves anyone who shows in exchange for a piece of gossip, which he scribbles in a tiny notebook.
"Welcome back Voyra. You look well. Please let me introduce you to my new squire Scutarius Thornwalker of House Rivenwood."
"So now Scutarius, tell us the story of your family's history with vampires. I need to know the complete details before the duel today. Can't have any secrets between us." The noble dhampir presses his squire.
Scutarius Thornwalker carries the banners of the Carnadine's Knights Incorporeal gules, a skull argent and that of House Rivenwood as he strides out to the crowd. The squire and banner are magnificent in appearance followed by the Ghost Knight who is armored for jousting.
Gone is his open-faced Helm of Comprehending Languages and instead anyone could be behind the bucket of the Stechzeug. that was polished to a blinding reflection. Although, one doubts if anyone else would be riding a creature like Voyra. This destrier is elegantly and strongly built with a head of medium length and a straight profile, a strong, wide jaw, and good width between dark eyes. Her neck is long and broad, running to well-defined withers and a massive chest. The mare has a short back and broad, powerful hindquarters with a well-rounded croup at the same height of its withers standing five feet tall.
Her gray coat with progressive silvering of the colored hairs on its black skin is missing in many places exposing muscle and bone. Her silver mane and tail once was thick and long but now are obviously frayed. Her tack of saddle, stirrups, bridle, halter, rein, bit, harness, martingale, and breastplate is exquisitely made of crimson leather. A veteran warlance stands upright secured in a holster on the right side of the saddle. A crimson pennant emblazoned with a silver skull waves under the spear point of the lance.
The Red Knight had arrived. Or, was that the Dead Knight? The play on words rolled through the crowd.
Lexi opted to find the betting (there was always betting) and asked what the odds were on Carnadine (presumably he's the long shot).
Lexi bets 50 gp on Carnadine.
As he triple checks the leather strapping on your armor "Forgive me, sir. I forget Midgardians are not likely to know of something so strange and heinous as Oshragora, the City Fallen into Shadow. Beneath Mount Thesfell of my kingdom theres a wealth of deposits useful for arcane pursuits...unfortunately this draws the attention of the umbral vampires time and time again."
"They say Oshragora was once a thriving metropolis, its rulers powerful spellcasters whose might dwarfed even the greatest sorcerers of this age. Its said they twisted time, forced it to divert its flow to free themselves from the shackles of death..." securing your sheathe.
"But they forgot how the creation magics that had crafted their art, music, and architecture relied on the flow of time...and so their city and culture too was distorted, spilling across in some great temporal storm."
"Now the umbral vampires are corrupted unfortunates caught in that closed loop of time, devoured by Shadow, only to be reborn and consumed for 1000 years. I've never visited sir, but have heard its a place that defies conventional understanding of geography and space...theres no sufficient organization and its not something youd call a nation, but they often slip between the cracks of reality to harry my people." his eyes continue to wander over your arms and armor, ensuring everything is perfect.
"We've worked with emissaries from another Shadow Court on occasion, a lofty one known as the Court of One Million Stars...one of them returned with a story only the Blind Seer was able to hear...before he threw himself off the top of the tower. Its that one behind the goblin's kitchen...the Lords of Light house themselves there."
Carnadine and Zaeri both sat atop their destriers, fully armed and armored...an aura of tension between them. Their squires stood formally at their sides, and all faced forward, towards an empty royal box up in the stands. Surely the King and Queen wouldn't trifle themselves with this duel, would they?
A small squad of elite guard was the first to arrive, staking a perimeter around the box. Then a handful of minor nobles filtered in as the trumpets started to blast. Finally, the royal guests arrived...no, not the King and Queen...
But Hrungnir's heart stopped all the same the fey princess who took that position of honor was the very one that had haunted him so long. Surely this was another illusion, another fey trick...it couldn't truly be that he had found her here, across the dimensional divide...she wasn't doing anything in particular, standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together for all the Runesman could see.
The prince at her side had a dark look, wearing a black chain armor and bascinet topped by a glowing white feather. Another princess sat just beside with hair as white as his was black.
The challenger was allowed first introductions, and his squire filled the role, bellowing "Zaeri Montylgrue, Hero of the Tower of Horn and Gold, 3rd retainer to House Roren, first house of Zobeck Reclaimed. On matter of insult and mortal injury by this Midgardian, he fights to retain his Honor in the name of Her Majesty Sarastra, Queen of Night and Magic."
There was much hooplah following the announcement, and the slightest of smirks crossed the Black Princes face...though he was barely paying attention.
Scutarius followed "Carnadine of Bruvik, Captain of Arms to the Order of Knights Incorporeal, Bearers of the Red Shields, Emissary of Zobeck and Hero of Conquest in the Electoral Kingdom of Krakova. Answers challenge out of respect for the Laws of Court." He was not smart enough to not mention 'Emissary of Zobeck' unfortunately...but surely it couldn't do that much harm, right?
It was at this time Raseri started to laugh. Not a giggle, not a cackle, a mad, wild screeching howl that silenced the entire crowd and fixated the gaze of all upon the Thorsdottir...
The animal headed changelings, ogres, goblins, and even higher fey pause to watch Raseri in this most peculiar display. Her laughter nearly shatters your eardrums and vibrates the blades at your belts.
Then you watch, as sickly her skin shatters like a porcelin vase dropped from a balcony, underneath a humanoid of shadow glass, featureless save the slick coating of Raseri blood along its sinewy muscles. "...aaaaand a fool!" it screeches. "Blind enough to offer companionship to Dark Doubles! Hahaha!" a great pair of translucent blue wings erupts from the glassy creature, and it leaps into the night, vanishing. All thats left of Raseri is a flapping pile of skin slowly melting into the courtyard.
Already the crowd seems to regard Carnadine with lower respect, snickering and joking with quips like "...oldest trick in the courts, really?" and "Only a complete moron would get hit with one of those stupid goblin blades anyways..." and the like. From his perspective his status was rapidly plunging, the crowd seemed to thin as nobles and courtesans vanished from his sight...and the tournament became a much emptier, forlorn place.
But at the same time, the thin line of a fey portal opens in the very same spot...and from it walks...the true Raseri?
Zaeri roars "Enough, this changes nothing! To your post!" at the shocked Red Knight, foregoing the customary tapping of lance points.
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For what is probably the first time in her life, Lexi has nothing to say. She is standing there, completely dumbstruck, mouth completely open.
A white-masked woman stumbles as she comes through the portal. She had almost arrived at the gates when she found the doorway opening before her. Behind comes three horses, each ladened with pack saddles filled with crafted items neatly wrapped in protective cloth and others in wooden boxes packed with straw. The pack animals nicker and whinny as they are pulled along behind her. A pop echoes across the emptying courtyard from the closing portal. Standing alone with all eyes on her and more than a few snickers, she sighs. This was not the way she had planned on coming into the court at all.
If this woman was indeed Raseri, she is far shorter than before, barely five feet of height. Her hair, free of the hood of her cloak, a deep blue-gray darkening to black at the bottom with silver brocade of stylized storm clouds that seems to flash with lightning as it moves, that had fallen as she stumbled through the portal, falls in a silver braid to her knees. Her face is covered by a white mask with sections of darkening gray outlined by the gracefully curving and intertwining inlays of gold, silver, and starmetal with the sheen of the auroras of the Northlands as they form a complex knotwork. Her ears, what peeks out from behind her hair, are pointed and fey-like, but not so long as an elf's or a half-elf's ears. She wears heavy armor of masterful workmanship with knotwork of the same style as the mask and scenes of stormclouds and lightning engraved onto the sides and bordered by prayers written in the runes of the Northtongue. In one hand is a spear with engravings of a yew and inlays again intertwining in a complex pattern of knotwork running down the head and along the haft to the butt, only interrupted by the leather of the grip. Despite her less than graceful entrance, she stands poise and looks around.
She studies the scene, seeing Carnadine and a hotheaded fey preparing to joust. She sees Deimus selling his coffee and Hrungnir staring transfixed at one of the fey in the fanciest of the boxes. She then sees Kjeta and a dumbstruck Lexi.
"It seems I have missed a lot," she says, her voice soft and quiet from disuse, but undeniably Raseri;s with her lilting accent. "How long have I been gone?"
A changeling with the face of an oryx saddles up to Lexi, taking her bet with 5 to 1 odds "New here aren't you? Never seen a Balhiir devour?" its lips roll back to a horsey toothed grin.
"What's a Balhiir dear one?'
The little oryx face just grins "Creature that lives above the gloom...eats magic. Zaeri captured one in that blade after an attack on his Owl calvary. Eats enough, it releases something he calls Spellfire. He's a fun duelist to watch, but rare. You'll see...sorry to have to take your money." adding "...not sorry."
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"Hehehe. You've never seen a Midgardian knight, then, I take it? I'll mourn your man for the time it takes for his body to grow cold on the ground."
By the way, did Raseri hear someone imply she was a moron? Can she tell who?
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Carnadine shifts Voyra with his knees and telepathy to see what was happening, because he could not see much wearing this Stechzeug. He mouthed a curse when the doppelganger disposed of the skin of the Thorsdottir. He had been too nice with them, too accepting of their weak and shifting emotions. He was right! Lexi the Shadow was shadow-corrupted! And, the Thorsdottir literally wasn't herself!
His opponent shocked him back into the reality of the tilt. As Voyra moved to his post, he focused his anger and hate at the point of his lance to relax him the familiarity of joust. At the post, the knight captain incorporeal paused and saluted the royal box dipping his lance.
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Hrungnir’s world shrank to naught but him and his love. He didn’t have Snowcrash on him, as his comrade temporarily wielded it. He warned the knight that the weapon was bound to him, and that if needed he had the power to recall it. So in a life or death situation, the weapon might vanish. In which case he should have his own blade handy, though Hrungnir would do all he could to avoid that. While the warning likely wouldn’t be needed, Hrungnir was thorough in giving his word, and did not wish to lie, even if by accident or through omission.
But none of that mattered. Nor did the silent Lexi, or the transformed Raseri, or the free flowing coffee. He was locked in his own world of shadows. He walked away, as if in a daze, pushing his way through the crowd and towards the one thing that he desired.
The people are abnormally chatty and with their guard down, the machine logs a few data points of note:
Lord Chesselfield is a visitor from the Arbonesse elven River Kingdom on Midgard, and is playing a crucial role in arranging the marriage between the Black Prince and Elegyn, a Zobecker noble.
The most legendary quarry of all hunts is the longtailed firebird. Capturing this creature is said to garner great admiration from the Queen in particular, and some believe the Queen sets the firebird free each time it is brought to her.
All the court fears meeting the Moonlit King in his winter season. His moonlight devils destroy fey souls, and his maze is a place of horrible suffering.
Some say Zobeck is the place where the King and Queen first kissed.
The noble lady Sariel has been cursed to wander, lost in the halls of the courts, not for having relations with the kennel master but for snubbing his dogs while she did.
The Rain- and Flame-cloaked courtesans are plotting together with servants of the Moonlit King to supplant the Sapphire Courtesan.
Raseri looked to the ogre that had called her a moron, and those next to her could see her eyes narrow from behind the mask she wears. She clears her throat, not used to talking after so long alone, and calls out to him.
"A moron? And this coming from an ogre that allowed blind pixies to dress him," she calls out to the somewhat garishly dressed ogre. "I may have been unlucky enough to be struck by one of those blades, but at least I do not look like I had planned to audition for the post of court jester."
Her anger sated for the moment, she turns to Lexi, then notices the pile of bloody clothing at her feet.
"It seems I was too late to warn you about my twilit twin," she says before reaching down to pick up the clothing. Strangely, the bangles and cloak are missing, though everything else remains. "It would appear that she has no manners either, leaving such a mess."
With a wave of her hand, she cleans off he clothes and the belt with Hugrekki hanging from it. She puts on the latter while she folds the clothes and puts them in with the clothing she had brought with her from the lodge. Her attention turns back to Carnadine and his opponent in the joust. She had heard of the tournaments and competitions between knights back in Zobeck, and wondered what it was that Carnadine was fighting for.
Zaeri rushes in, fearless against Carnadine's charge...his lance splinters into a million pieces and the crowd jumps to its feet in admiration...but at the same time...
Carnadine kicks Voyra who jumps to a gallop in two strides. He brings his lance down to break his tip on the fey's chest just in time to get rocked off his saddle.
The crowd reaches a new level of insanity as the Red Knight falls in the very first tilt. Scutarius is quickly at the knights side, picking him up and doffing the Stechzeug for his more traditional field armor...and Snowcrash thrust into his palm. "A clean break, sir...fate was not with us. But you can still be victorious in the melee...hurry..."
Zaeri tosses the heavy helmet off to his squire who nearly collapsed from the weight, drawing a nearly translucent blade and stalking over to the New Moon Hall. He did not bother to look at Carnadine, there would be plenty of time for that in the melee to come...
Raseri watches and sees Carnadine unseated by his opponent. It was odd to see the normally cocksure and competent knight bested so. Still, she has little at stake in this bout. Her main concern was for the items she had crafted and the horses. Before Zaeri finishes taking off his helmet, she is moving towards where she remembers the stables being. She looks at the fey knight, wondering what this fight was about, not that a glance would tell her much about that.