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Sister Ismene was a lot of fun, and this has been a great campaign while it lasted. I'm also slowly getting more and more swamped with work, and the game just wouldn't be the same with another GM. I've never had much luck with replacement GMs, as much as I appreciate their efforts. Leed, it's been a blast, and I look forward to gaming with you (all of you) in the future. Cimri was the best friend a misanthropic devil nun could hope for!
Spotting the wolves, Ismene tenses. So close to the camp, this could completely blow their operation. She'd just as soon avoid them, but the others spring into action immediately, and she has no choice but to help end things quickly.
This is an update I'm posting to all my games. Cameroon is currently experiencing some civil unrest, and I happen to be living just minutes from the border with the conflict zone. The government has shut off internet to that region, as they'd done in the past. Currently, I have access; that may change unexpectedly. I would like to emphasize that I'm in no personal danger, but if I disappear for a little while, that's what's going on. I'm pretty mobile on weekends, so I absolutely should not be disappearing at any point for more than two weeks.
This piques Ismene's interest, and she snaps it out of Zoags' hand greedily. She stuffs it into her robes for perusal later. She'd have plenty of time today to give it a good going-over.
"Yeah, sounds good," Ismene acknowledges. Her part in things is pretty much complete, so she spends breakfast listening to the others and surreptitiously watching the room's reactions. Hook, line, and sinker, she thinks.
"I'm not worried about flushing out the Angel Knight," Ismene says to Cimri. "Just her towney goons. If they don't come out to play, leave 'em be. In the end, how much does it really matter if they bust out a couple of senior citizens while we decapitate their rebellion at their base?" As Greed continues to develop the plan, Ismene nods along. "Humiliation is good, and you know how much I love a good double-bind. We don't even have to waste any time; it'll take us a day or so to prepare before invading the Court of Spears. The Whisperwood's a big place, and there's all kinds of nasty things in there. Even with a map, it'll take some time to get there, and that's not a camping trip you want to try without supplies."
Ismene makes a point of not noticing Penelope's sullenness. She knew she couldn't keep depriving the dhampir of a meal for much longer. "See, now that's thinking with your head, Greed!" Sister Ismene gives Muziel a congratulatory sock in the arm. "We've gotta be careful not to be too obvious, though. We'll have to make it look like we had to leave town in a hurry. Otherwise, it'll look too convenient that we just happened to leave two prisoners slated for execution unguarded."
"I don't like the idea of going off and leaving deputies and their rag tag band of trouble-makers at large while we're out of town," Ismene complains.
When Ismene hears her cue, she takes it before the situation has a chance to get deadly. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep protecting their prisoners forever; the Sins were a bloodthirsty lot, and they had carte blanche to enforce the law however they saw fit. "You heard the gnome," she says, roughly hoisting their bound prisoners to the feet. "Your choices were jail or the grave, so I'd get moving to the jail if I was you." nudging them forward, she personally escorts them away, walking behind them to keep any eye out for any funny business.
Sister Ismene stares Dent down, acting like she's trying to make up her mind. After a tense moment, she shifts her gaze to Penelope. "He's telling the truth," she says without further explanation. Dent didn't tell them anything she didn't already know, but he didn't need to know that. And his corroboration of Gerya's story meant that she could be trusted. The best thing now would be to end things before the old timers somehow end up dead.
Not wanting to see Penelope have to make good on her threat, and Ismene knew the dhampir happily would, she chimes in. "Cut the crap, Dent. You expect us to believe you came up with this little scheme on your own? Where did you think you were gonna store all these weapons?" The Devil Nuns had beaten plenty of lessons into Sister Ismene (literally), and not all of them were martial. Never ask a question you don't already know the answer to. Not just pretty words.
The weapons don't hold much interest for Sister Ismene. The place reminds her of war, and war is something she'd rather not think about. Since Greed is taking point on the interrogation, Ismene sees to Bo, binding her as well and checking her vitals. If the woman is in danger of bleeding out, Ismene will surreptitiously bind her wounds as best she can.
The others seem to have the situation well in hand, so Sister Ismene bends down over the fallen Dent to bind him. Besides, if she didn't, Kolaiah might decide that Pestilence was thirsty or something. And something about the whole thing seemed off. She had been expecting the deputies and a crew of other rabble-rousers, not two old gatekeepers. It would be better if they kept at least one alive for questioning.
Sister Ismene dashes in and cuts off their route down the hall. "The jig's up, old-timers," she says, faking a lazy strike at Dent meant more to alarm than to wound.
As it nears sundown, Sister Ismene approaches the Armory with Cimri in tow. "Hope we're not too late for the fun," she greets Muziel. "I've got news. The leader of this little raid is Curtwyn, one of Rhona's deputies."
Ismene scoffs along with Gerya at the appropriate moment, as if to say "Some nerve!" "Thanks for the information. We've already caught wind of their plans for the armory. If they do try to keep the weapons here, let them, and I'll take them off your hands. An unarmed rebellion is less likely to get themselves killed," she reasons. "I'll leave you to it. You've got a man to see about some taxes," she says, pulling out a sack of gold. Dropping it on the desk, she takes her leave, eager to get out of the place. Three hundred gold pieces was a high price to pay for intelligence that was old news. But it wasn't just about what Gerya could tell them. Now they had her gratitude and good public relations. Even better, they had leverage. Madame Cembers and her staff make for passable spies, and Ingoe Zoags was even better, but Gerya Rohalendi was a veritable mouthpiece without Allomar around. It was a devil's deal Gerya had made, and she didn't even know it.
Sister Ismene bursts out laughing at Gerya's offer. It was a pretty good joke, she had to admit. After fifteen seconds or so, she finally manages to calm down. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she realizes that it wasn't a joke. "You're serious? Wow!" The time frame was way too long and the payout much too small to make that worthwhile; Ismene was hoping to be on her way out of Longacre long before then. But before she rejects the offer outright, it occurs to her that maybe the real value here wasn't the coin to be had. "Sorry, you caught me off guard. I realize things are tough right now. Help me help you. There are things happening in Cheliax that are bigger than you or me. The situation is, the Glorious Reclamation's angling for a fight, and between you and me, the Archbaron's looking to give it to 'em. But they're not swooping in with an army from the outside. Gerya, I know that you know they're trying to rally Longacre to their cause. If the GR and the Archbaron get what they want, a lot of people are going to get hurt. We're talking about the people of Longacre, friends and neighbors." Ismene sighs heavily. They weren't her friends or neighbors, but still. "Here's my counter offer. I know you've got a lot of pull in town. The people, they'll listen to you. Some of them are too far gone, but there are a lot of good, law-abiding people in Longacre that don't have to get caught up in this. Talk some sense into them, help us all avoid disaster. I want to know who the rabble-rousers are, but the others don't concern me. You do that for me, your little tax problem goes away. No interest, no payment plan. Whaddya say?"
She may have a bleeding heart, but she's no dummy, Ismene thinks to herself. Can't make the terms too steep, or she'll just reject the deal, and I won't make squat. First rule of negotiation, never be the first one to name a price. "It's a good thing you're dealing with Wrath then, not Greed. Obviously you're struggling to pay the taxes at present," she says, taking an uninvited seat. "I'm not gonna pretend like I'm doing this outta the goodness of my own black heart, but I'm not here to gouge you, either. We're in the business of upholding the law, and your business is good for our business, so how about you tell me what you think is a workable plan?" Ismene was seeing the logic of forcing the conflict with the Glorious Reclamation as quickly as possible. But these geezers wouldn't be part of that fight regardless, and it's worth making sure that there's something left to govern once everything was said and done. And if she could do both and line her own pockets at the same time, well, Asmodeus would certainly smile on that.
Sister Ismene can't even hide her look of disgust as they pass through the hospice. The sight of so many old invalids offends her. They're so... pathetic! Just lying there, waiting for death. Is this place really even worth saving? The Sisters had taught Ismene that the weak received their just desserts. It was unnatural for anything incapable of defending itself to go on living the way these old soldiers did. The young had potential, they could be formed and strengthened. But the old were used up. Whatever strength these veterans had, it had long since faded. Once in the office, Ismene finds that she just wants to get her business over with as quickly as possible. "I just came from the Notary," she says by way of explanation. She didn't have time for pointless lies, so it was easier to let Gerya draw her own conclusions. "But the how isn't important. What's important is that you owe the Crown a lot of money very soon. And that's a problem for you, 'cause you can't cough up what you ain't got, right? I'm here to offer you a deal. We'll cover your taxes in full, and you can pay off the debt, plus nominal interest, over time in installments. What do you say?"
"Yeah, it seems things are going to Hell in a handbasket in a hurry around here," she agrees. Someone's got a case of the jitters. More so than usual... Ismene pays no mind to the damage that she had caused as she focuses on Gerya. "Yes, I'm Sister Ismene," she says, bowing slightly at the waist. Let's play it nice for now. Bad cop worked on Madame Cembers, but this required delicacy. "I'm here on business. Don't worry, it's nothing like that," she says, quickly holding a hand up to placate any of Gerya's fears. Better to play the generous benefactor. "You're having problems with your taxes, as I understand it. I came here to see if there was something I could do to help alleviate the situation. Maybe we could discuss the matter inside?" Normally, Ismene would have blown right past Gerya and invited herself in, but throwing her weight around wasn't going to help the situation. Rohalendi was on edge. Maybe it was a good thing after all that she hadn't heard Ismene's pounding on the door.
"I guess they're not kidding." Admitting defeat, Sister Ismene pulls the cord. If/When somebody comes to the door: "What happened to your door?" Ismene looks up at the conspicuous damage. "You might want to get that fixed," she advises sagely.
"Hard to hear knocking, huh? We'll see about that." Cracking her knuckles, Sister Ismene raps hard on the door.
Ismene nods, again agreeing with Brackenbole. "Point taken. I'll see to it personally that the situation is handled. For now, I think I've taken enough of your time unscheduled." Bowing at the waist, Sister Ismene takes her leave of the notary. Brackenbole was right - it would probably be more profitable for Rohalendi to pay installments, but the Archbaron didn't seem to be a particularly merciful man. But unlike Louslik, Rohalendi probably didn't have anything to make up the difference if they sacked the place. Luckily for Rohalendi, Brackenbole had given Ismene an idea. But before they could do anything, they needed to know more about Gerya's mysterious patron. Leaving the notary, Sister Ismene makes a beeline for Rohalendi's Hospice.
Sister Ismene frowns. "I see. That's definitely a problem. Obviously, she couldn't have obtained tax-exempt status, since you'd have the paperwork if she had," Ismene agrees. At first it had sounded like somebody was putting the squeeze on Rohalendi, but with the new details it was looking more like she had just been careless with her taxes. It was pretty clear that Brackenbole was a team player, and he'd been doing good work. Ismene figured it would behoove them to make sure it stayed that way. "People want to act like it's your fault they don't pay their taxes because you didn't remind them. And then all they do is b%&+@ when you do, am I right?" But it doesn't matter in the end. The Devil always gets his due. "Still, the Hospice is a strategic asset and the community seems to value it, even if all Rohalendi does is prolong the suffering of a few bitter old dogfaces. Are there any official procedures for securing these 'other arrangements' you could tell me about?"
Sister Ismene waits patiently for the first ten minutes or so, but after that she gets bored and starts helping with the search. After about an hour of that, she gets really bored and starts "checking" whatever book looks most interesting. She starts with a book on the Goblinblood Wars, but quickly has to put it back when the memories get too intense. When Brackenbole finally finds something in Brigands of Note, she breathes a sigh of relief. "The Whisperwood, huh?" That was going to be a bit more than a hop, skip, and a jump away. She grabs the offered map and takes a gander. And there it is, marked plainly to find. Which is good, because the Whisperwood is big. "If I had known how long it was gonna take, I would have made an appointment. Next time, I will." Placing the map carefully in her robes, she pulls out a gold piece. "The Empire thanks you for your service," she says, handing it to Brackenbole. Damn, that feels good to say! "While I'm here, there are a couple of other small matters I'd like your help with. First thing, you henceforth have special permission to grant any permit that the Kemmaino family applies for. Second thing, I'd like to see recent records for Rohalendi's Hospice. My understanding is that she's facing an interesting tax situation that we have taken an interest in."
Sister Ismene, satisfied, sits up a bit straighter in her chair. Now that proper authority has ostensibly been established, they can get down to brass tacks. "See, now that's the kind of cooperation that keeps you in the Archbaron's good graces. You're alright in my book, Brackenbole, I don't care what they say about you." Standing up, she follows him around to his tall, dusty shelves full of what are no doubt incredibly dull books. "Place, I'm pretty sure. We think the Glorious Reclamation is using it as a hideout. We found a message for one of their operatives at old Fort Estanzo where they had a base."
Sister Ismene cocks an eyebrow at the stuffy-looking man. "Yup. Right now. Official business on behalf of Archbaron Fex," she retorts. Clearly, Mr. Wenbrade Brackenbole hadn't been properly informed of their authority, so she'd have to do it herself. "Sister Ismene, with the Sinister Seven. Maybe you've heard of us?" Shuffling in, she flops down in the chair in front of Brackenbole's desk. "I've got some questions, and I hear you're the man with the answers," she says, getting straight to the point. "What can you tell me about the Court of Spears?"
After finishing up with Jemmy, Ismene returns to the Jail with Muziel and accompanies the others to the Arch and Lark. "Next time, I'm ordering off the menu," she complains, nonetheless forking mouthfuls of food and chewing with her mouth open. "Steak and eggs, how hard should that be?" She listens to the gossip without paying it much attention. That stuff wasn't really that interesting to her; she never expected Cembers to turn up any real dirt. She almost misses the part about the doctor. "The doctor's having a hard time, huh? Can you find that letter? I want to read it myself. There's opportunity here, I can smell it!" Punctuating the point, she inhales deeply through her nose, but immediately regrets taking such a strong whiff of the Arch and Lark's oddly perfumed interior. "I gotta go see the notary today, but hitting up the Armory sounds like fun."
Sister Ismene sighs, letting her breath out in disappointment. Ismene frowns down at the girl, more confused than angry. "Jemmy, what the hell are you doing? Was this your big plan? Throw piles of horse crap at us until we leave?" Ismene shakes her head. It brings a small amount of pride to her heart that she's scary enough to make small children burst into tears without so much as raising a fist, but terrorizing this girl wouldn't be any fun. Instead, she sits down next to the girl, folding her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "Kinda dumb, but you got guts, kid. I respect that. Little Jemmy Kemmaino, gonna take on the Sinister Seven all by herself, with nothing but horse crap and a head full o' the same. Who woulda thunk it? Oh, quit yer cryin', kid, I ain't gonna hurt ya. You remind me too much of me when I was your age. Well, maybe more like when I was half your age. By the time I was your age, the Sisters had pretty much beaten all the tears outta me." She cracks a grin at the girl, looking back fondly on the childhood beatings. "I guess you're not too happy with what happened yesterday, huh? To be honest, neither am I. I'm sorry you had to be there for that. That's not the sort of things nice kids like you need to see. If you want to know the truth, Allomar wasn't half bad in my book. But she went around stirring up trouble, what with all that Angel Knight stuff. But that's not why we had to do it. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but you can keep a secret, right Jemmy? The Allomar brothers tried to take us down the other day. Maybe you heard about it. One of them kicked the bucket in the fighting. Well, Tileavia Allomar wasn't too happy about that, so she tried to bring him back from the dead, only it went bad. We were out patrolling town when we saw a bunch o' Iomedaens fleeing from the church, screaming about a monster. When we got there, we found that Mommy Dearest had accidentally turned Lacall into some kinda ghoul or something, and he was attacking everybody. We tried to put him down, but Loran and Mommy tried to protect him, even when he was attacking their own congregants!" Ismene sighs again, more sad than angry. "I know what you probably think about us, Jemmy. I know what your parents have probably said, and what the other grown-ups think about what we're doing. But we're just trying to make sure everybody follows the law. I'm not from Longacre, you know. I was born in Isger. You heard about the Goblinblood Wars? They teach you about that yet? I've seen what happens when there's nobody to protect the law, Jemmy. It doesn't go well for nice girls like you, and I'm living proof of that. And when nobody follows the law, we've all got to be strong enough on our own to protect it as best we can. My parents weren't strong enough when the goblin armies burned our town to the ground. The Sisters of the Goldin Erinyes took me in and made me strong. You heard of them? They call us the Devil Nuns. Maybe that doesn't sound too good, but it was devils that saved me from goblins, kid. And the other night, at the church? It was devils that saved the whole town from a zombie that your Fifth Sword Knight Allomar accidentally made from her own dead son. It's a messed up world is what I'm trying to say, Jemmy. Maybe you'll understand that when you're older. You can hate me for right now, if that's what you really want. I know it's what your mommy and daddy want. You're lucky to have them, you know? Take it from somebody who doesn't have her mommy and daddy anymore. And they're lucky to have you. You've got moxie, and that's more than I can say for most of the grown-ups around here." Unfolding her legs, she stands up again, the spoils from their last payment jangling in her robes. Thinking for a moment, she reaches her hand into her robes and fishes out a gold coin. "Asmodeus rewards strength. This is your reward, Jemmy," she says, holding the coin out for the girl to take. "You don't have to share it with anybody if you don't want to. When we don't have anything else in the world, all we have is our own strength. Be strong, Jemmy, and nobody can ever take that from you. Now scram."
Sister Ismene smirks. "Nothing to worry about, just a little unwelcome company. I'll be right back." Listening for the direction of the sound, Ismene heads off to chase down the interloper. It was time for her morning run, anyway.
Sister Ismene has the last watch of the night, but it's not much earlier than she usually gets up, so she doesn't mind. Quiet time in the morning is good for meditation and light calisthenics. As she's taking a break from her handstand push-ups, she hears something padding around, very quietly. Whoever they are, they're good, but not good enough. With her impressive lung capacity, her volume ought to be loud enough to wake her friends, scare off the intruders if they're skittish, or both.
Not as good as the festival BBQ. The stuff wrapped in foil won't hurt you, it's smoked for hours and then cooked for hours more. If you were in Kansas City, there was nothing to fear; barbecue is practically a sacrament. Then again, maybe Africa has just made me ridiculously cavalier to the thought of food poisoning.
I'm terrible with picking gear for my characters. Always have been. It just feels so weird. There was f&*%ing brisket at a street-meat stall today! I couldn't believe it! It wasn't smoked, and I didn't have any barbecue sauce, but BRISKET! I could die.
Stop off and eat some barbecue for me, will ya? We don't really have that here in Africa. I miss brisket.
As Razelago names their bonus, Sister Ismene excitedly socks Kolaiah in the arm. "Wenbrade Brackenbole, huh? Leave him to me. Me and administrative types get along real well. But even if we get what we need out of him, there's no reason we can't put the screws to some townie anyway, right?"
Thanks, it's great to be back! The trip over wasn't bad. I know we left DC sometime in the afternoon/evening and the flight to Brussels was something like 7 hours. But, thanks to time difference, when we landed in Brussels for a 3 hour layover it was like 6 AM local time,. When we landed in Cameroon, it was starting to get dark, but I slept a lot so I avoided jet lag at the cost of having no idea how much time had passed. A worthy trade. Africa's something else though. In the capital city of Cameroon (Yaounde), it looks like a giant shantytown with LA-levels of sprawl, co-mingling with the bush which truly cannot be tamed. There's no way this is what it looked like 50 years ago; I can't imagine what it will be like in another 50. My cyberpunk instincts were going nuts, though.
Sister Ismene watches Cimri's display impassively. Though Jexxi Six-Splinters might have been valuable as a hostage, it really seemed like more trouble than it was worth. She certainly isn't sorry to see the halfling go, and she can't help but admire that last kick. "Got some good power on that one! Form could use some work, but hey." Clearly, Cimri still had some issues to work through in terms of being in control of one's self versus letting others manipulate her emotions, but Ismene was hardly the poster child for self-control. While the others plan their next move, Ismene stands by her friend to offer her silent support. Whatever this incident meant for Cimri, Ismene knew that this thing with Rhona was still far from over.
I have a stable connection now! It's going to take me a day or two to get caught up, but I'll be back in the action ASAP! I'm looking forward to this nurse thing XD
Quick update, there is internet in Cameroon! I'll have a stable connection in another couple weeks at most.
Hey everybody, I'm in the last stretch before leaving for Cameroon! I'm flying to DC tomorrow, set to leave the country next Wednesday. I'm not sure what my posting schedule will be like going forward. I intend to get some more posts up before leaving, but if you don't hear from me for over a month, that means this is the last internet access I had. If this is goodbye, I want to say thanks to everybody for the ride! And if it's not, then I'll see you on the other side!
With the rioters dispersed, Ismene stomps up to scaffold, fuming. "They want something to rebel against, " she shouts at no one in particular. "I'm gonna clear that whole fort out if it's the last thing I do, even if I've got to do it all by myself! Come into square, interrupt execution! !"
Ismene hollers after the fleeing Angel Knight. Howling in frustration, she turns back on the crowd. "What are you looking at?" she screams at them. "You want a piece of this?!" Whirling her sansetsukon threateningly, she charges at the crowd.
"Outta my way," Ismene yells at the crowd as she pushes through. "I don't know who you think you are, but you're in for a world of pain," she taunts the Angel Knight as she closes in, drawing her sansetsukon from her robes.
From her vantage point, Sister Ismene can see the stirrings moments before it happens. She grits her teeth as the Angel Knight rides into the square and stirs up trouble. "Looks like somebody's decided to volunteer themselves," she grumbles to the others before charging at the Angel Knight, robes fluttering in the air as she leaps off the scaffolding.
"Sounds good to me," Ismene agrees with Cimri. Last night hadn't been Cimri's finest moment. Ismene didn't want to admit it, but watching her friend dying on the floor had scared her. Cimri had nearly bled out, and there was nothing Ismene could have done to stop it. She was just lucky Lust had been there with that wand. "Don't worry about Rhona. She's just mad that her time's up. It's our time now, and we're just getting started. Before you know it, we'll be free of this town and on to bigger and better things, like we've been planning. Today, the execution. Tomorrow, Egorian!"
Sister Ismene holds a raised eyebrow, tapping on her chin as she draws out the moment before passing judgement. Deciding in Madame Cembers' favor, she nods once. "No, it's not about you. As it turns out, we made some high-profile arrests last night, and today we're carrying out their sentence." |
