Screw it Mel, that post sold me.
Edit: That post could probably have sold me on anything by the way, it's glorious.
When Hal speaks out loud it is obvious his accent has been changed."I've got some silk rope. We can use that if we need to. Bag over his head too. Let me check Rogers for what he wants." 'Alright, mate...' Hal says silently, carefully enunciating the words mentally. 'We couldn't have done this without you. Deal's a deal. You want us to tie you up, gag you and never tell anyone that fact - or do you want a ticket to a job somewhere else? Choice is yours far as I'm concerned. That said, you try to finger us later and we'll be back. I've taken a shine to you Geoff, and I very, much don't want to have to come look you up later.'
Thanks Kazador, I was stumped for something to say.
what has gone before:
So; Previously we agreed Aduard's Book of Harms (libris de malificat) had turned up, which is 900gp. he had also requested Adivion look into contingencies - though ti would be understandable if he had not. I think he got 8 hours sleep by leaving when he did last night. Aduard smiles a rare smile in response "I can speak only for myself, but the work you have done here has been masterful, Adivion. I look forward to being able to get to know you better you under less frantic conditions. At the risk of hubris, I do have to concur with you though - this group is a formidable investigative team, for all we were forged through happenstance rather than careful planning. Enough to make a younger man wonder, and use words like 'Fate'." --- Aduard spends the delay pondering a series of tomes he pulls from an overload pack. Primarily his own notebook - but also another book bound in leather, lacking a title, and smelling disturbingly like charred meat. --- As Adam barrels forward Aduard gives a nervous baring of the teeth that might pass for a grin, and steps out of the way. Raising a hand he turns it into a quick pat on Adam's shoulder. "Of course, my boy. Of course. Don't discount your own role - remaining quiet as ignominy and insult was heaped upon you by ignorant peasant and prosecutor alike. Had you lashed out I doubt mere evidence of innocence would have seen you freed." He looks to Esta, seeking to guide Adam's gaze towards the kindred spirit the 'man' seems to have found, then steps away. Adam, it seems, might be that thing Aduard was least comfortable with - a hugger.
Aduard shudders, his gaze snapping back into focus. "Indeed doctor. Those skins..." he makes an effort to continue "Are evidence of foul crimes. With appropriate research it should be possible to determine to whom they belonged. At least for the... human skins."
"The good news - the very good news - is that we found no evidence other skinstealers had infiltrated this good city wearing the skins of citizens. The bad news is that neither did we find evidence that there weren't. Citizens are already roused to act outside the law, and I can only hope we can move quickly to prevent outbreaks of violent vigilantism against anyone whose skin seems a little...loose." "In many ways the straightforward horrors Vorkstag and Grine pinned on the so-called Beast may pale in the face of the real horror that we may now face."
"Is it just me, or does that seems supiciously organised for a mob? Alas, we are without a scout to follow them." Aduard grumbles quietly, in the now empiter space.
Been a good holidays, thanks - hope you had a good one too!
Complements of the Season to you all!
Aduard draws himself up "How dare you, sir?" In a voice trained to speak words that can rip holes in reality he speaks, for the crowd. He turns back to the crowd "Funny fact about the law. If you try to get into the courthouse and we kill you, we get a slap on the wrist, but if you are inured we have to pay for your care. We can't really risk injuring you, but we can kill you. And we can. We're literally the team they sent to Kill the Beast - the actual one. Nobody here wants to get shot, or hit with an incendiary flask, right? Do you know what an incendiary flask is? I'm sure my good friend here can show you?" he waves to the doctor. "I mean, everyone here wants to see a person burn alive, right? We'll just up the ante." "However, this nameless man just told you we lied. Called us liars. To our faces. More importantly, he accused Mister Wyatt a liar! A man chosen by a God to bring Justice. I believe these to be grounds for a good old Ustalav duel!" "Given this all hinges, now, on whether we're lying, I propose this. Mr Moron here has a proper, legal duel with Mr Wyatt, after invoking the gods to make it a good old fashioned trial-by-combat. If this random idiot wins we accept that the Gods have seen justice done, back down, walk away, and abandon our charge. If Mr Wyatt wins - and again, the man was literally chosen by a God to do this sort of thing - then you lot accept that we aren't lying and you back down." "Sound Fair?" he asks the crowd, and not the man he's trying to get solo a paladin.
"Now, for the kids in the crowd! Who wants to see my friend here use a flask on that wicker statue!"
Zyrel, who has been reasonably quiet, starts speaking. "Once we're out of the city we should spend some time practicing sneaking together, and work out some hand symbols." As if a dam has broken, he continues. "I'm not entirely comfortable with the mission. We have been asked to use subtlety if possible, and my impression was the Margrave has decided the man is a fake and does not want to hear evidence to the contrary."
"In terms of team capability, Lanatir is close-in melee. Elsa is our damage specialist - especially at short range. I'm a generalist and fill whatever gap we need, though my actual training is long range scout." he looks to Desdemona's side and quirks his head.
Finally he sighs and explains himself. "My apologies if I seem a little taciturn. Our employers have a high turnover of personnel in their teams. I'm used to spending twenty years at a stretch with the same people in a team. It's... disconcerting to see so many people come and go, for all that I can see that it is likely more efficient to match each person with a mission."
That is sad - I like the PS Finch you portrayed a lot. I hope the Job Hunt goes well - may your luck with criticals carry over to real life!
I need to apologise as well. I've been drawing a blank on what Aduard can do.
"We do have some additional information" Don Haroldson clarifies. "We know this: The person in question is on the council. The person has a residence, presumably within the city. The residence has a floor with a cupboard or closet. The person has done something - presumably ordering an assassination - five years ago."
"Renumeration depends on exact skills, but I can " "How much? A hundred gold for Vorkstag's head! Another hundred for Grine! A third hundred for their cursed cabinet! "
Aduard had encountered creatures like this before. Not evil by nature, but ostracised due to their mutations. They were easily recruited by any morally bankrupt, charismatic egomaniac with even a hint of power who wanted servants around to feel better about their own life choices. he called to the others he murmurred quietly "Other door. No way up here. I'll hold them off..." he hesitates for a second Subject to conditions
Siren: Hal's expression changes over the course of tale. It starts with interest with an undertone of smugness. The smugness vanishes, the interest deepens, wonder emerges. As the tale continues the interest becomes obsession, hope blooms and fear strengthens to the point of terror. He stares at Mel as she finishes. Blinks. Pours himself a glass with shaking hand and drinks it in a single gulp, then empties a flask at his hip, muttering to himself as he drinks. "Mirror? Mad? Dead?" Finally he turns to Mel, his eyes wide. "You're... you're here, right? You're you? She's her. Has to be. Where'd ya hear that story, Miss? D'ya make it up?" a note of desperation creeps in "I'm not mad if ya did. It's a good story. Y'just need to tell me. It's okay." He shakes a little. "I've the luckstone. And the purse that holds anythin'. And the glass that sees death. I've spent the silver pennies from the Witchmarket. I've compelled services. I'm no dealbreaker though, nor a soldier. I've saved those with death at their feet, but never with death at their head. Me wife and child are far away, 'n' if I need to get 'em I need ya ta tell me, Miss. As the Gods're listenin' y've no need ta... I'll help Miss. I swore it, and I meant it. If ya want ta stop a war, or kill a king, or steal a soul from Pharasma herself, I'll do it with ya." "But ya have ta tell me the provenance..." the word is strangely precise "of that story. It's okay if ya made it up. It's okay. It's a good story. Very clever ta work me treasures in. But did ya? Or did ya hear it? D'ya know somethin' 'bout me girls?" Hal shuts up as he pours himself another glass.
Clydesdale: Hal snorts. "Y'c'n thank wizards for that." His voice loses his accent and becomes formal, upper class and arrogant "Oh, it appears we have stumbled onto a force that transcends classification. Come my brothers, let us force it into a classification system anyway!" His voice drops back "Magic's not some... rules in a book. Y're right - it wants somethin'. Sometimes it doesn't do much ta get it, sometimes it does. Damn wizards break it up into 'tiers' and 'schools' and 'classes'. Use etymology like it was entomology. Anythin' they can't pin into place like a butterfly in one of their damn bug collections they call 'wild' or 'fluke' - or at best 'divine', throw it out." "My lot do it different. We see somethin', we remember it. Look at how ta get it ta happen more'n once. Most often that's workin' out what it wants." he considers "Plus most'o us get into the trade 'cos we have a gift. I've the sight m'self." He gives the woman across from him a keen look. "Sounds like you're gettin' a gift as well. Could be Ostara sendin' 'em, could be she " he makes a popping noise reminiscent of a cork being removed from a bottle "some block ya had and now ya got it." He sighs "Not comfortable, gettin' a gift. 'Spite what they say, ya can put it back, least at the start. Useful, though - and ya don't seem someone scared easy like."
He hesitates for a second "Back where I grew up there's a bug Firebit. Bit like a bee, but big as y'r thumb, hives of a dozen, the honey tastes like sh... bad, 'n they explode. You piss off one of these guys, it'll land on ya, start glowin, get hot and get ready ta explode. Thing is each one only gets ta explode once. They land on ya, ya hold still, they calm down and take off. Gives you a bit of blister 'n' maybe leaves a mark, but everyone goes home."
"I used ta have a hive. I'd bring 'em honey every spring. Every winter the old ones'd die, they'd be under the hive, y'cn pick em up and bottle 'em. Alchemists'll pay a crown for the juice inside - though I only ever saw a penny profit. Never got burned, 'cos I respected 'em. Learned what I had ta do ta get along, did that." "Seems ta me if y'r gettin' a gift ya should find out what ya can. Any strings attached - well, ya just need ta know what they are." He fishes around in his pack, finally pulling out a small box, wrapped in ribbons sealed with wax. He unwraps the ribbons and from the sponge insides pulls a tiny lead-stoppered glass vial. "Nightmare tears. Sales pater'll te ya it's distilled tears from the Night Hag mixed with belladonna and arsenic, but in truth it's just water from a spring up in the mountains - mixed with belladonna and arsenic."
"Now, could be luck, chance, or divine intervention - but y'v managed ta get a man who makes visions his livelihood owin' ya his life, so if ya want somethin', just ask. I c'n help ya explore ya gift, if ya want. I reckon it might be a good idea, too." he sighs apologetically "'Cos while those sailors of ours can talk - though they almost never do - Not one person in a thousand c'n hear 'em.'
Aduard raises an eyebrow at the Doctor, then pauses. A moment passes and his eyes squint. When the doctor turns to the gnome Aduard shakes his head slightly, as if clearing hair from his eyes, and turns to follow.
Erix hesitated "With respect, I'm going to need to know your legal right to assert that uh... sir. It's been a while, and... uh... there have been changes to... uh... Oh wow." he hesitated "The war ended. The Warforged were freed. You're free, I mean. Uh, Congratulations?"
@GM Coyote: nonproficiency increases misfire by 4. I thought we decided Zyrel was nonproficient until he'd practised for a bit because guns are not commonplace in Elven lands?
Okay, sheet updated. Sorry for the delay. Happy to contribute cash towards topping up the wand - or to do it as potions of curing or something.
Hope you feel less funky soon!
Aduard raises a hand to forestall objections "I realise the issues around post-mortem interrogation are challenging... but the girl told us point blank what happened. She said, and I quote..." he pulls his notebook out with shaking hand, reading from a scrawled passage "Brother Swarm killed me. He found me down there, in the group of willows near the water. It's where the Beast were living. He and I were friends and I had this book with pictures and things to show him." Aduard shakes his head "I believe her will was strong enough that with Swarm's concentration disrupted her love of her friend was enough that she gave us her testimony willingly, to see him free. My expert opinion is that the testimony is valid. This was no cryptic clue. No screamed puzzle, or confusing omen. She'd no reason to lie, and many not to." He looks to the judges "We couldn't interview all the children, but we saw no evidence that the Beast was responsible, and enough evidence it was Brother Swarm that were that monster not already dead his trial would take but an hour."
@Kris: thanks! I had forgotten, and +1 weapon and +1 armor is about 3K worth of items we would 'normally' need to have. Plus - free stat point!
"Where did we go?" Aduard starts, melodramatically "Into Hell itself it seems - the cursed village of Hergstag." He pulls his journal out, ostensibly consulting his notes. "Let me start by saying that the Evil that stalked Hergstag stalks it still. Anyone who believes otherwise need only walk the corpse-strewn cornfields, or hear the singing of dead children deprived of their rightful rest." "It is imperative that an expedition be urgently sent to put to rest the darkness that grows in that soil before it seeds." "When my companions and I first arrived we sought out the house of the brave ladies who testified previously..." he looks to the sisters and bows "Delightful and hospitable I had hopes raised that the evils done at Hergstag were entirely passed, and the fact we had been delayed until near-sunset would not prove the disaster I had feared." He sighs "Alas, it was not to be. How the ladies Garrow, Starle, and, of course, Flicht have remained unmolested remains a mystery to me. Perhaps it is their Faith, perhaps that there house is separated from that accursed place by running water. Regardless their presence there was not the positive sign I hoped." "Perhaps I spent too long enjoying their company, but regardless, when we arrived in Hergstag itself the sun was already on the horizon. Had I known then what I know now I would have fled. Instead I looked on the sunset-dyed corn and took its resemblance to a wind-tossed lake of blood as a mere artistic fancy rather than the omen that it truly was" "We had determined from the sister's stories a house from which a child - Karen - had been taken directly, and made towards there. If there was too be any hard evidence we reasoned it was more likely to have survived the seasons inside a solid cottage than out in the wild." Aduard shook his head "We soon heard the singing. I can do it no justice, though the Doctor dutifully documented it. Children... dead children... condemned to wander the cornfields. I hoped this was some mere echo, but pleaded with my companions to consider a return." "Alas, their bravery eclipsed mine, and they pressed on. Can you imagine it? The corn rustling, the blood-red-sunlight retreating to create pools of darkness? The ethereal singing of the dead children? I can close my eyes and return in a moment, for it is a vision that shall haunt me for a lifetime - and perhaps beyond." "We saw a humanoid figure through the corn, in a small clearing. All prepared - or so we thought - we crept on, and found... a scarecrow!" Aduard allows the lightened mood to linger for a second "But as we progressed one of our number spotted a bone. Dread filled my mind, and we realised it was no scarecrow but a dead man" "One of the children's playmates I now believe. The dead hunt, in Hergstag, it seems." "While we looked on with horror the first of those children took the opportunity to approach. It asked us to play..." he shivers "Not a boy, or even the corpse of one. A scuttling, crawling, swirling amalgam of dried husks and leaves, and where its head should be, a hive of bees." "I had heard of such creatures in the past. Attic Whisperers. Even one such creature would be call to send a crusader, but a collection?" "It carried a bow, and we believe it to be the soul of Garrad now cursed to wander the earth in service to his murderer." "We fled on, and thought to take refuge till morning in the very house we had come to investigate. At this point my companions had the perspicacity to look for clues, though I myself was more concerned with whether we should ever see sweet Leipstadt again. It is to them that this next chapter belongs."
mechanics & ooc:
Zyrel considers for a moment, turning the words over in his mind. A little later he walks back in. "Our 'masters' will accept exile. I will escort you to the docks right now." He hesitates "I recognise you will be reluctant to abandon your enterprise empty handed. Given you have displayed a foresight unusual for the mayfly races I will make a suggestion. I suggest you may wish to talk to my companion" he indicates Aakif "and negotiate an agreement. I am prepared to go past a temple of Abadar and have a cleric of that deity ratify it if so. Such an agreement would need to stipulate that you not return. I suspect you would ask for your enterprise to be wrapped up or subsumed, in exchange for a proportion of the money raised to be sent to you. I have no idea what the normal fees and so forth for such a thing would be." Zyrel takes a waiting pose "If so, negotiate quickly. If not, grab what you can carry and let us go." Zyrel's reasoning: 'Use your best judgement' sounds like code for 'this is a test'.
It is possible killing this guy will simply see him replaced. If he works with us to liquidate or transfer his holdings the odds of that happening are much lower. Adding something that stops him coming back should look better to our employers. Hes also not keen on killing reasonable people, and believes accepting surrender reasonably is a better long term policy. He's also not that keen on helping this business survive.
Zyrel raises a finger "Hold." then slips back out into the corridoor.
The hangover I awoke with was more likely attributable to alcohol than my brush with mortality. As death stole closer I had been assaulted with glimpses from my life - the cliché of one's life flashing before one's eyes proving all too true in my case. While these flashes were too quick to integrate, and I had been too busy to try, I was sure that they awaited me in my dreams.
My chosen treatment had been alcohol, and while the Vjarik had numbed my memories of Brother Swarm, so to had it left me remembering less of the night than I would prefer. I was left with a vague memory of treating my stings, ordering Mr Edison around, and retreating to my room to scribble in my Journal. Mr Boots grumbled as I shifted enough in bed to ring for a servant and pull a pillow over my head. Willem, my valet, was far too loud for so early in the morning, but brought me tea, toast and bacon. While I ate I scribbled a number of notes for my staff, rose, and dressed. First a note for my driver, Drey. He was to wait outside the courtroom. When the dear ladies Garrow, Starle, and Flicht exited he was to give them a note and offer to conduct them back to my lodgings. Second a note for the sisters. Here I explained my horror at what we had found, my fear that having been stirred up he may attack them, and an offer to take refuge with me until either an expedition had been sent to clear poor damned Herstag, or I had the capacity to do so myself. Third a note for my valet Willem. A list of books I was interested in, and instructions to ask at various bookshops as to their availability and price. Most were innocuous enough, but the list also contained the Libris De Malificat - the infamous Book of Harms. If I were to prepare for war, I would do so with arguably the best treatise on the infliction of injury ever written. Fourth a note for Willem to deliver to Kendra. Here I laid out - though carefully, lest it should fall into hostile hands - the events we had so recently endured. Additionally I asked if she could find information on the isle to which we must travel. Finally a note I intended to deliver in person. A note to Adivion - for after the circus of a courtroom we must endure today. The note pointed out that it was unlikely that the vigilante crowd gathered to see an execution would be content were we to succeed and see Adam proved innocent. In such a case contingencies would be needed ready to ensure he could vanish to safety. My memory of legal stratagems discussed last night impaired I put my trust in Adivion and consulted my sparse notes and maps of the Isle de Karb.
Zyrel stands by the doorway, gesturing for Badhru to stand behind him. He hovers a hand just above the knob, and turns to the others. The hand still holding his spear flashes 3 fingers, then 2. Two beats later he moves...
Apologies for Aduard, Edison. He's a somewhat abrasive personality when stressed. @GM ROBOGEISHA: A recap would be wonderful, if you are so inclined. I totally understand the situation - I've had a similar issue myself. I'm delighted that you're keen to keep going, as I think this a great game :)
'Too crowded. We're eventually going to shoot each other if this...' Zyrel winces as Kris nearly loses an ear.
No problem - stay safe.
Congratulations!
"Not so far apart, perhaps. There are a number of Monks, but very rarely even one Suriname. Simple rarity often manifests as mystery." "The Suriname were, according to legend, created to cope with the situations where society broke down. Chosen by the Gods themselves." Imix looked away "We became less and less frequent. My attempt to take apprentices is an attempt to spread the Suriname knowledge, and attempt to create a new order of..." He stops "Suriname is perhaps not correct. Not priests, exactly. Scholars comes close. Students of history, tasked to look to the wider view. Trained in Wisdom. Wise ones. Shadows, almost, but for external rather than internal..." He trails off. "Perhaps Makaya? Certainly Suriname magic is more powerful than any witch or sorceror. Unlike the granted power of priests, it is shaped by intention - the reason a rogue Suriname is so very dangerous. Should we be part of society, or outside it?" "I am also unsure how to control Suriname. Historically once our Purpose is achieved we are taught the Final Secret - the magic that makes us one of the Divine Crocodiles. I have never learned that magic - obviously - and so I am unable to teach it. This means that once a Suriname has achieved their Purpose, they will..." he looks for a word and settles on simplicity "just go on. Gaining in power, but without a Purpose to shape it." "Down the other branch, having seen more of the world I see now that the Peoples were lacking in magic. Suriname hoarded magic, and used it wisely, but when we were attacked by witches we needed power, not wisdom." "Perhaps a voice on the council is as useful, now, as being outside the Law. I worry that in time it will lead to the Suriname being subverted for political power." "An educational institute and brotherhood of scholars and spellcasters would be useful - it might even reacquire the transformation magic that used to reward the Suriname, but doing so might take a lifetime..." Once again he trails off, lost in thought. "I think... I think this might be my Purpose." he holds up a hand for time "If my Purpose is to set up a College, and the College deduces the Final Secret, then once I have fulfilled my Purpose I can still undergo The Change. I would be the longest lived of any Suriname, but not rogue." His speech speeds up, certainty re-establishing itself. "Yes. Those chosen as Suriname are as they were. Should another be born it too will be constrained as I am, subject to the same laws, tasked to find a Purpose. My Purpose is therefore to re-establish the order that will train them - but rather than hoard those secrets, it will give them to those scholars who have sworn to use them responsibly. Those scholars will be part of Society, able to apply for a position as any other person might do." He hesitates, certainty evaporating "I must meditate upon this, and seek counsel. It seems that this must be my Purpose, if I am not the last Suriname. In which case I must take up the Mantle of my Purpose. But is it? Am I seduced by logic and convenience?" He hesitates again "Would it indeed make any difference to what lies before us?" "I therefore propose that I work on the assumption that it is, but await further guidance. For now I will form this College, or School, or Monastery, or whatever it is. Should Oios' proposal go forward - and it seems likely that it will - I will take the mantle of Makaya - a single voice on a council is hardly 'ruling'." "Should the Gods grant me a divine message to tell me I have misunderstood, I will bring it before you all." "I see that the first priority of the College will be to gather Scholars. The second will be to study The Flame - starting with how it destroyed this place. Then..." He stops "No. No, I move ahead too fast. The priority of the College, the rules of the College - these are beyond my bailiwick. They should be established by the one - or ones - who Rule."
Suddenly Squeak had a moment of empathy. In a moment Bronwyn had been rendered defective to her bloodline, through no fault of her own. He strode forward, putting a cold metal hand on her shoulder. "They would be fools to do disown you. You have repeatedly proven yourself an asset both through capability and behaviour. Even should they do so, rest assured that I..." Squeak pausedIf Bronwyn was disowned what would that do to his orders, his Purpose? Should he abandon Bronwyn to protect the next in line of his original commander? A strange feeling - wanting to be able to choose to do anything rushed over him. 'Perhaps it is my defect showing itself. But should that be true... Should my Purpose command me to move on...' he hesitated 'I would disavow my commission and take advantage of the law that makes me free. [b]"Bronwyn. I am with you. I intend to stay with you even if you are disowned. If you are cast out on the street I will be with you." the 'Forged reached for words "You are the Objective of my heart, not just my orders." He did his best to smile, battle damage rendering it comically lopsided. "Besides. You have taken a number of difficult jobs and done well. I see no reason you will not continue to be able to do so if you adventure out of need rather than money."
The question as to whether Warforged had Souls was largely of academic interest only to Palisade and Squeak. Essentially immortal beings, death was of less concern to Constructs than to Organics - and Squeak has rendered the question largely irrelevant by repurposing a small Construct into an Artifical Soul. Warforged definitely had emotions though - or at least emotion analogues close enough to make no difference. Squeak's survival instinct manifested in a similar way to fear. His trust & group cohesion heuristics allowed him to feel friendship. Socialisation and empathy routines allowed him to feel guilt. Certain emotions were stronger than in humans (Warforged of Squeak's model felt little anger for instance) and certain emotions were stronger. Emotions around achieving Objectives were happiness, joy, even a holy awe. Conversely failing Objectives engendered negative emotions. Squeak absolutely felt that he was betraying his friends. He felt the guilt. He knew he was under-performing, that he could save Palisade. He heard those he liked - loved even, if a Forged was capable of such a thing - asking him to move. He knew that he was endangering Bronwyn's life by forcing her to come closer. Still, he could not move. Horror overwhelmed the construct. His entire life he had worried he was defective, but pushed on. Here, now, was the proof that he was defective, and it would cost Everything. Words would not come. For the first time in a long time Squeak felt a new emotion. A subtly different form of guilt he had studied but never seen. Shame. An eternity passed. Squeak's mind spun, pushed passed its specifications by a vicious circle of emotional overcharging. Still it found nothing. Squeak's hand moved from resrvoir to reservoir, uncscrewing caps, puncturing seals. Oil trickled around him. "Palisade." Squeak's voice was modulated strangely. "Command: Move Fendir and Bronwyn behind me. I am detonating." Bronwyn's order was impossible. One last possible gambit remained. In Draconic Squeak screeched at the Mummy "That which you protect, I have destroyed. You have failed." 'All to easy to see what will motivate a guardian beyond reason' "You are a failure. I am the reason for your failure. Failure. Failure. Failure."
Imix freezes at Oios' words. Upbringing and experience war within the Suriname. 'Easiest to address the first point first'. "This is untrue, lady Bellet. I do not doubt the blood in your veins, but I also have noble blood. Of course, no Suriname can rule" he hesitates "under the old ways, at least. Further, while your bloodline is of the highest purity, my medical knowledge suggests you are unlikely to bear another child to continue that bloodline."
Now caught on the intersection of theological theory, genealogical lore and inheritance law he continues. "If we are to carry on with the old ways, you would rule. Only if you ruled I could marry, and I married, and my spouse had children, would the lineage continue long term." "Next: I take issue with the statement that the 'Old Ways have failed'. The Old Ways were given to us by Damballah, and have always worked. Logically we have deviated from the Old Ways into New Ways, and it is those New Ways that have failed." He sighs "In truth I have heard of issues among the nobility and done nothing. Sins performed in private. Heresy laws used for political rather than religious purpose. The contract between Lord and Vassal subsumed into simple servitude." He bows to Bellet "As the sole noble to survive, I am inclined to believe you are in fact one of the few nobles who truly kept to the Old Ways. Certainly your behaviour during the Flight has shown the survivors what a Noble should be." "We could, of course, take up the rule of..." he hesitates "Democracy, as shown to us by our new Cousins. There is no doubt their Senate is as useful an administrative tool as our Feudal Hierarchy. It has survived far less time, but is a brave experiment. I, personally, have been impressed by the meritocratic nature of their elections and the cunning of their Senators." "A Theocracy is a possibility, but I believe it is the politicisation of the clergy that was ultimately responsible for the failure of the Empire. I would suggest some sort of..." he hesitates, grasping at concepts alien to his being "Separation? Independence? Religious institutions banned from power but given oversight? I had assumed I had been born for some great Purpose, but perhaps it was simply to ensure the Suriname institution - renowned for its independence and impartiality - existed to serve as a model." "If we do abandon the Old Ways, how many of them do we abandon? Can Suriname rule? Marry? Can monks? Priests?"
Squeak winced as his predictive algorithms ran through the likely result of the fight. Sadly it appeared it would be necessary to sacrifice one - or more likely both - of the new companions to ensure Bronwyn was not injured.
"Rainn. Run to the others. I will draw fire... Avenge me." The words were easy, but this next would not be. 'I can only hope my draconic is up to the task...'
Each insult was accompanied by a new bolt, most at the injured lizardfolk, but one of which struck the injured Fendir.
Carefully he felt out the situation "So, you both accept that Palisade would be carrying both of you, at the same time? Is that likely to cause any difficulties for you?" Squeak ran back over Jenkins' stories, looking for anything that stood out. There was something he had not understood at the time, something about drinks. "Would he also be carrying provisions for you? Specifically hydration?"
Instead he stalled "I am a chef." he declared, answering the question with its immediate answer "And as such what I am doing is that I am about to start making (dinner/breakfast/lunch). I'm afraid it's only parboiled potatoes basted in goose fat and oven baked to a crunchy golden consistency, served alongside steamed long beans and artichoke hearts in a butter sauce, a Pork loin that I had had slow cooking in a buried cauldron since yesterday and a crisp white wine. Desert was to have been meringue, but I am afraid my stores are depleted. I have been forced to jury-rig a berry compote and can only hope our chocolatier can rescue us." He nodded "As you can see, our culinary situation is becoming dire. I don't suppose you have a pound of sugar?"
Zyrel looks into the lines of probability as bullets zip past him. With a sigh and a heavy heart he follows the line that doesn't lead to him getting hit. Dropping his bow - and wincing a little as it falls to the floor - he steps forward, the curved elven blade on his back singing as it whips from its sheath. Zyrel leaps forward, the momentum of his move adding to the leverage from the downward strike
mechanics:
I can understand that! Stay Sane :) Also, Imix may just have been seduced by the republican system. He'd started to wonder if monarchy was a bad idea, and this might have just sold it to him. Gorgeous rebuttal, GMBP!
Imix considers "I would indeed have suggested this course of action for my people. Had I done so perhaps the coup that toppled my own empire might have never happened. Had I been a leader at such a time I would have assumed death was inevitable and sold my life as dearly as possible. Should I have succeeded in stopping the coup..." he considers for a moment "I see. An interesting dilemma. Once a coup is launched, logically the only two options available to the innocent are to either accept one's death and try to die fighting, or to abandon one's allies and join the enemy. I believe I know what my choice would be, but I had not considered the problem in this light; if the enemy believes enough of the senate will be swayed to choose to change sides, this action would not only be unlikely to prevent a coup, but instead actively makes it easier to succeed and therefore makes the action more likely - indeed may even precipitate the very coup it is intended to prevent." Imix bows to the otterling, lower than he has before "I see your wisdom. I have ever had a weakness with politics - this is normally considered an asset in a Suriname, but now it has led me to advise incorrectly. I hypothesise this is one of the reasons the Suriname are forbidden to do anything but advise, except in very narrow circumstances." "While I still believe that the enemy has infiltrated your ranks - especially given that your city is built on their old stronghold - I can see now that there is no easy solution at hand. The best I could reasonably promise is that if, after investigation, I truly believe that survivors of a coup were instigators I would seek to kill them - a threat so full of caveats it would be better not to make it." "Bluntly, I had considered your Senate to be inferior to a hereditary monarchy. I see now I have judged it unfairly - I now see the benefit of your system over pure autocracy. It is yourselves; the senators." "Your senators appear to have been schooled in intrigue and politics beyond anything I had ever expected to encounter outside the very highest level of the imperial courts. Your cunning and insight into exploiting human weakness make you more than just an asset in this fight against the Enemy. It makes you essential." "Again and again the Enemy has misled us. Tricked us. Fooled us. Betrayed us. They have whittled away all but those whose own forthright, honest nature left them unable to anticipate such attacks. I had believed that this was the will of the Gods, saving those who put others above themselves, but perhaps not." "Hamfatten was the worst of us. A scheming politician willing to do anything to survive. His death leaves us far poorer. All we truly have now is Oios; an investigator prepared to accept a death sentence in order to do his duty to his people. While his knowledge of the darker half of human nature is expansive, he himself is, unfortunately, a veritable beacon of honour and light." "I am now convinced we must give to your Senate all the information, all the minutiae, that we have encountered - not simply our interpretation. Perhaps your experience will enable you to spot some pattern we do not, before that pattern comes to some terrible conclusion." "I ask the Senate to consider our problems, and create a task force of those most gifted at intrigue, ensure such a task force is free from the Enemy, and set them to anticipate our Enemy's actions." "Additionally: should our immediate problems be resolved, I would ask the Senate to consider a proposal that I be trained in politics and intrigue, in order to avoid giving such poor advice in the future."
Squeak looked thoughtful "As for emotions, emotions are an undesirable emergent side effect of prolonged contact with humanoids. They have very little to do with, and are secondary to, objectives. Confession: I have developed some emotion for you, Bronwyn and Palisade. Were you to be killed I might indeed display an irrational desire to punish those who killed you."
Squeak hesitated "On that basis, were I to feel 'Vengeance' for your destruction I would seek to publicly punish those responsible. In this way I will acquire a reputation that I will impose an additional cost on those I value. This would help to ensure that the future existence of those I value is, on average, slightly extended."
Tyrus stumbles over an apology as he grabs the proferred paper bags. "Sorry. Must dash! Sorry. Luca! Sorry!"
Aduard perked up "Brother Swarm, I assume? Delighted to meet you. Please accept my apologies for the invasion. We understand this area to have been claimed by The Beast of Ustalav. That he came here, cunningly took the children to be his servants, and drove the adult residents to flee his wrath." the wizard held his breath a moment "Do I take it you are then entity who accomplished all this? Or are you perhaps one of The Beast's Servants, residing here at his indulgence?"
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