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He loses himself in thought for a second and turns back to Fibula. "I am quite curious as well, as I did very little travel in Varisia. I only hope the Society decides to put my skills to use once again. What are the lands there like?" "Varisia is beautiful country," Fibula says, smiling in the general direction of Ruiz, "I grew up in Ustalav but came of age in Varisia. The mountains and quiet scared villages of Ustalav have nothing on the vibrant flowing lands of Varisia. All the colours I remember were brightest in Varisia. The trees were taller, greener, and you never felt danger in their shade. The people seemed wilder, full of life, and far more open and friendly in Varisia. I have many fond memories there. I also loved the sounds when my eyes no longer shared the sights. The cities are loud and bustling, perhaps even more then many of the other great cities I've visited. Certainly I liked the sounds of Magnimar more so then Oppara or Absalom, but then Magnimar doesn't have high opera, and so I'd say Absalom and Oppera are gems if you have money, but Magnimar was a city of the common man. I think I'd liken the sound to that of opportunity."
"Magnimar has the ruins of a massive bridge," Fibula muses as she stares off into space, "So large that you could build a town just on the bits that remain. When it still stood you must have been able driven dozens of carts side by side to wherever it went. The Thassilon must have been amazing architects. There were also ruins in Korvosa, not nearly as impressive mind you, but the kings palace sat atop a half a pyramid or a ziggurat, and this wasn't a small palace. I don't recall if those were also Thassilon ruins but I can't imagine them being anything else. For the most part the people were nice enough, though they didn't care for the traveling folk so much, but they seemed very no nonsense hard working type. Very much like most people in that part of the world."
"Well I did have a few axes thrown at me," Fibulia notes, "And ranged weapons always give me problems. I can usually feel someone close, I can sense someone as far away as thirty paces, but usually the first time I notice an arrow is when it ricochets painfully off my skin . . . if I'm lucky. Sometimes I don't get the chance to activate Pharasma's blessings. "And yes, I too had pathfinder business in Trollheim, nasty stuff, the trail even led us right into the seat of the Jadwiga themselves."
"The rumors I've heard have us focusing on Korvosa and Magnimar, which does suit me fine, I traveled much of Varisia growing up and Korvosa and Magnimar are two cities that I remember seeing. And I do mean seeing with my eyes. Blindness took me long before I came to work for the pathfinders but Varisia is a place I'm not only familiar with but have actually seen."
Whisper:
"Would that I could Ser Ursus," Fibula sighs, "I am flesh and blood, and have needs like any other creature, but alas I am also of noble blood and unwed. People in these so called civilized lands do things backwards you see. I lived amongst the Varisians for many years (it was amongst their skilled artists that I became illustrated) and amongst their people a woman who was experienced and proven to be fruitful was more valuable then a virgin, but here in so called cultured society a lady is valued for her purity. I am in the process of reclaiming my family name and property Ser Ursus, I am unwed, and I cannot afford to make any mistakes. However should I marry, and I suspect I will need to, I would then be free to take a lover. Perhaps many. I would still very much like to know you better. "My father's side of the family was said to have Ulfen blood," Fibula continues after briefly conversing with the northmen, "Blond hair is almost unheard of amongst my mother's side of the family, but my father's side have a least half a dozen fair haired men and women dotting the dusty old portraits in the ancestral home. I had little chance to get to know the people when I traveled through the lands owned by the Linnorm Kings, I got to experience them in battle, but very little of the music or the culture. My time in Ustalav taught me the language but little of the culture."
"I enjoyed our conversation as well," Fibula says facing Ottavio directly, her nearly white eyes seeming to stare through him, "And perhaps we might one day work together. It's always so much more reassuring when I have a set of eyes I can trust." "He of course jests Ursus," Fibula says turning in the general direction of the northman, "Your gesture was much appreciated. I have a good image of you in my mind now."
"I rather like this beard," Fibula says as she runs her hands across his lower face, "Very nice. I'm told I'm quite beautiful as well, and I have used this trait to my advantage on several missions, but sadly many of the people I've met on my journeys have been put off by my blindness. In the north the Skald speaking Ulfen said I should have been left on a snow drift as a baby, which I thought was odd because I wasn't blind as a baby. To the south the natives of the Mwangi Expanse said I should have been sent to be claimed by the jungle. I've even been jeered in some of the so called civilized nations of the inner sea. I find it disconcerting. Truthfully I'm far from helpless, although Pharasma has chosen to take my sight I'm not at all disadvantaged or saddened. She has given me something I like to call sight beyond sight. Gone are the beautiful colours of the world but I function as well in the light as I do in the dark. I sometimes feel shapes, and sense swords, and smell blood. You wouldn't guess it but I'm capable with a sword and have dispatched no less then five opponents through martial prowess alone. I am of course far more deadly with my spells though. "I thank you for your kind words Ottavio," Fibula says to something to the left of the rogue, "I should think being a mystery is akin to being a marvel? It is much better to be a marvel or a mystery then a pariah I must say!" Fibula pauses, frowns, and then taps her nose as if remembering something: "I wouldn't want to be too interesting though, in Taldor politics that sort of thing can get you killed. It's suitable here thankfully, we pathfinders cherish mystery, but please lets not spread any tales of the Oracle Fibula Bone amongst the nobles back home. I'm in the process of reclaiming some ancestral land and I wouldn't want to make my appearance back into Taldor society too soon."
"It's been my experience that the ladies in the box seating only attend the opera and theater to be seen not to listen to the show. Usually I'm able to drone them out though. I think I'd rather have general admission in the future, the few times I attended as part of a society mission we had floor seating and the people there seemed less interested in gossip and more interested in the show. However I've been told that box seating is the only way to go. It is more convenient, spacious, and comfortable, but I'd rather hear the start of the show then arrive fashionably late. "And as to the taste of tomes: artificial aging agents like tea or vinegar leave a taste even after the sent has been washed away. Some papers are made with different fibers. I may not be able to tell a forgery as surely as an expert but when pressed for time a simple taste can tell me more then one might think. Forgers usually only concentrate on making the books look right after all."
"I do like the image," Fibula says, "I could tell you were tall, I could tell by the direction of your voice, but knowing the rest of the features helps. I'm afraid being blind means I must rely on my other senses to explore my world. Touch has been quite useful to me but also sound. You can't imagine how wonderful the opera is for me and how much it vexes me to hear the other ladies in box talking about the dresses. I know the other pathfinders rely on sight first and foremost, but I've had naught but success on retrieval missions relying on touch, sound, and taste. Though Kreighton Shaine has since asked me not to lick any more tomes."
Fibula smiles. "Prophecy actually," Fibula says relaxing, "Please sit and join me. I favor prophecy but the Goddess has blessed me with quite a lot of death magic for some reason. I admired your voice ser. I do enjoy a man who is bold and fearless but one must never be presumptive, that is one must never assume to know outcomes before your actions, because that is the realm of prophecy and I think the lady would take exception to you stepping on her toes. Tell me more about yourself so I might form an image in my mind about you."
". . . I think next time that happens, I'm just going to have to refuse and tell Lady Morilla to stop sending me on Dalsine's old fool's errands." "I have no idea why Morilla would want poison but I did hear that there was a recently annexed assassin guild near Eleder that . . ." "And what do these parts say?", he asks. As Ursus extends his hand Fibula's cane suddenly wraps sharply against his wrist. "The Lady of Graves also is a goddess of rebirth," Fibula says as her nearly blank white eyes stare blindly off into space, "And the selected text there details and chronicles Pharasma's domain over us from the womb to the tomb. You are bold Ursus, you haven't even asked me which aspect of my goddess I most revel in. For all you know I may be a harbinger of death." Intimidate:
"This is quite likely," Fibula says nodding to something to the right of Ursus, "Only Pharasma knows and the lady isn't telling." Fibulia throws back her robes revealing her near naked body underneath. Her body is absolutely covered in tattoos, text mostly, but there is the odd illustration, and all is in an unusual white ink that's nearly invisible against Fibula's pale white skin. "My left arm speaks of prophecy," Fibula says holding up her arms up for all to see, "And the right speaks of her death, both are her domains and both are quite inescapable to the mortal man. And yet we seem to live our lives in fear of such certainty. I find it comforting. Every game has rules you see. When the rules are broken everyone looses. We may be pawns Ser Ursus but this is quite out of our control so why worry about it. Besides there are games within games. Best to enjoy what pleasures we can while we're playing before someone tips the board."
"The dots I'm sure would be distracting," Fibula says to the space just to the right of Sarina, "That's the problem, while you're concentrating on the dots in one little corner you've missed the picture as a whole. This is difficult for me to explain because I'm no longer accustomed to sight analogies, in fact I can scarcely remember what it is like to see. But lets suppose that your ears were sharp enough to differentiate individual performers at the Opera. Now I suppose if you focused on the Prima Donna you would get as much as half the story and I suppose you could infer the rest, but suppose you focused on the lead horn, well I'm sure you'd gain a greater appreciation for the skill needed to preform in the great opera houses of the inner sea, but I dare say you'd miss the plot altogether. "Baron Jaquo was quite devoted to his country and our cause, but I fear he was entangled in far too many plots. It was hard for him to move without disturbing the fine threads his enemies had spun. In the end it was family that was his undoing. Which I'm sure came as a shock, he must have been looking for enemies on all fronts, but I think he scarcely thought his own brother capable of such manipulations. That fiend played the Qadira faction leader like a harp. The Baron's best defense was his foppish disguise, but his own brother pulled back the veil, and with only the smallest glimpse of the Baron's machinations the Qadira faction leader danced right into the trap. Two faction leaders destroyed in one foul swoop. The only think I can't figure out is was the Qadira assassin an idiot or a fool? I mean supposing that she couldn't see through the ruse with her sister even a journeyman in her field should have seen the dots lining up too perfectly. But this gets back to what I was saying earlier about the big picture."
"You know the Baron taught me fencing," Fibula says wistfully, "I didn't need to see to understand that the man knew how to feint. You honestly couldn't tell what his goals were or who he was manipulating. Sometimes he was testing us sometimes collecting pieces to his schemes, and sometimes he was just throwing everyone off the scent. He loved that fop routine a bit too much though. It saddens me that people will remember him for his public persona. I imagine that Lady Morilla will be discovering his manipulations for years to come. She seems far more direct though, which I suspect is better for moral, you people with your sight: you like the big picture but I've always been content with vague outlines."
"I detect a strong Ulfen influence in the room," Fibula says from her chair, "This pleases me greatly as it's been rumored that my family has Ulfen blood in it. It's likely the source of my blond locks. Mind you such rumors would be scandalous back in Taldor. The flute was lovely and the voice was nice as well. You should both be commended. Sadly on my business in the north didn't allow me to partake in any music or culture."
"You are too kind Ser Ottavio," Fibula says to the empty space directly to the left of the Viscount, "And I agree titles are so cumbersome, and it seems so many of our organization are saddled with them. However I've discovered that taking up an alias attracts less attention. For example should you take up an ordinary sounding name like "Red Herring" or "Dirk Dagger" most wouldn't even question your lineage and it's possible to blend into ordinary society completely unobserved." Spoiler: Pretending to be blind also works well.
"It sounds as though I've found the right room," she says as she taps her way inside, "Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Fibula Bone, Oracle of Pharasma, and agent of Taldor. Please don't be fooled by my disability, while the goddess has chosen to take away my sight she has thought to heighten my other senses as well as to guide me in my daily life . . ." Fibula bangs her shin against a wooden stool. The Oracle winces. "She also likes to keep me humble," she says as she bends down to rub her shin. A shapely naked leg pokes out from the oracle's robes as she rubs the pain away, spidery white script is tattooed across her leg as well as her forearms, the writing is nearly impossible to read against the lady's pale skin, but those with keen eyes and those familiar with religious writing may be able to make out the excerpts from "Bones in a Spiral", Pharasma's holy book. "Perhaps one of the gentlemen would be so kind to escort me to a chair?"
Who's what now? You sound like a confused creature, a dog whipped and looking to get back at his old master by serving another, but really the best revenge is to stop being a dog in the first place.
I liked Baron Jacquo Dalsine, his faction missions were fun and the character really came through, he certainly seemed to have a sense of humor. I can only hope that the new faction leader will be as interesting. Hard to believe that Osirion is the second most popular faction. I never would have guessed there were that many necrophiliacs in PFS. |
