??? I'm not sure what that comment was supposed to mean. But I'm Canadian, and I'm thankful to live in a country with a good public education and health care system.
When you celebrate Thanksgiving, what are you all so thankful for? That England didn't copyright the language? :)
It wrapped up back in July (I was really happy with how the final session went- plenty of PC death), and I've just started running Second Darkness. We're nearly done the first adventure, and I'm pleased with how its going so far.
??? I'm not sure what that comment was supposed to mean. But I'm Canadian, and I'm thankful to live in a country with a good public education and health care system.Hey P.H.! Glad to see that you're still following along (even though you must have finished your campaign months ago). Hope you're having a great thanksgiving.
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It wrapped up back in July (I was really happy with how the final session went- plenty of PC death), and I've just started running Second Darkness. We're nearly done the first adventure, and I'm pleased with how its going so far.
??? I'm not sure what that comment was supposed to mean. But I'm Canadian, and I'm thankful to live in a country with a good public education and health care system.Hey P.H.! Glad to see that you're still following along (even though you must have finished your campaign months ago). Hope you're having a great thanksgiving.
P.H. Dungeon! please check back on my olde threade... I have questions! :P
http://paizo.com/paizo/messageboards/community/gaming/connection/canadaOnta rioBurlingtonFRCampaign1PlayerReqd&page=1#789376
(sorry for the ever so slight thread hijack here... :P)
??? I'm not sure what that comment was supposed to mean. But I'm Canadian, and I'm thankful to live in a country with a good public education and health care system.
When you celebrate Thanksgiving, what are you all so thankful for? That England didn't copyright the language? :)
Um, that little smily emote icon tells Guy that I was joking. We do that sometimes. See, the history on that was that we were joking about different flavors of "English." See the previous posts. The "copyright" joke - can you imagine if England (where the language, basically, originated) could have copywritten the language? Canada, the U.S. and other countries would then have to pay astronomical amounts to the U.K. in royalties. I can't take credit for that joke. That's John Cleese.
However, if we're going to talk Canadian healthcare, then consider the exmample of the Jepps, who had to be flown to Montana to give birth because there was no sapce available at Canadian neonatal intensive care units. This was back in December of last year, if I recall correctly. This example is referenced in Mark Steyn's article titled "Is Canada's Economy a Model for America?" from the January issue of Imprimis.
Sorry, but you spoke to my Tory streak.
I never realized that :) was a smiley icon before. You learn something new everyday.
??? I'm not sure what that comment was supposed to mean. But I'm Canadian, and I'm thankful to live in a country with a good public education and health care system.
When you celebrate Thanksgiving, what are you all so thankful for? That England didn't copyright the language? :)Um, that little smily emote icon tells Guy that I was joking. We do that sometimes. See, the history on that was that we were joking about different flavors of "English." See the previous posts. The "copyright" joke - can you imagine if England (where the language, basically, originated) could have copywritten the language? Canada, the U.S. and other countries would then have to pay astronomical amounts to the U.K. in royalties. I can't take credit for that joke. That's John Cleese.
However, if we're going to talk Canadian healthcare, then consider the exmample of the Jepps, who had to be flown to Montana to give birth because there was no sapce available at Canadian neonatal intensive care units. This was back in December of last year, if I recall correctly. This example is referenced in Mark Steyn's article titled "Is Canada's Economy a Model for America?" from the January issue of Imprimis.
Sorry, but you spoke to my Tory streak.
Well, like I said, I’m a Tory. Since this is a discussion that spans three related countries, it’s probably not anything we could even begin to chew on in the middle of a thread dedicated to the Lidu Diaries, anyway. I will point out that the U.S. is a confederated republic. As such, each state has the autonomy to regulate maters that the Federal government doesn’t bother. With. Regarding so-called “sodomy laws,” to which I believe you are referring, it is my understanding that they pertain to certain practices, not “existence.” Further, I don’t believe they are even much enforced anymore in the states where they are still active on the books (bad form from a legal point of view, but good from a social one). Anyway, what I was getting at is that the U.S. gives one the freedom to choose – you can go to California to get married, then return home to whatever state.
I agree with your Mr. Trudeau about staying out of peoples’ bedrooms (and I won’t say anything about him because I don’t know anything about him) – I think government should, for the most part, stay out of peoples houses all together. However, when you talk about marriage, you aren’t just talking about the bedroom. In fact, from a legal standpoint, that is irrelevant. Marriage (and who can get married) effects taxes, healthcare benefits, inheritance, property rights and a whole list of other legal matters.
Here’s a little intellectual exercise for you. A man marries a woman. They file joint tax returns. She is recognized as a spouse by his health insurance. Another man enters into a “domestic partnership” with another man. They file joint tax returns. He is recognized as a “domestic partner” by his partner’s insurance (same benefits as a spouse). Two siblings (two brothers or a brother and sister, it doesn’t matter), both single, move in together. They file joint tax returns. However, the sibling can not be claimed on the other sibling’s health insurance as a “domestic partner.” Why is that? (I don’t have an answer or opinion. Just an interesting question.)
I never realized that :) was a smiley icon before. You learn something new everyday.
:) Happy
:( Sad:p Sticking out tongue
>:( Angry
:D Laughing
:O Surprised/Shocked
Frankly, I'm pretty new to it, too. I don't generally like using them, but I think they are necessary sometimes since there is no "tone" in an e-mail and you want to convey that you are joking and not serious (as was my intent).
Thanks for the lesson, sorry for the thread jack.
I never realized that :) was a smiley icon before. You learn something new everyday.:) Happy
:( Sad
:p Sticking out tongue
>:( Angry
:D Laughing
:O Surprised/ShockedFrankly, I'm pretty new to it, too. I don't generally like using them, but I think they are necessary sometimes since there is no "tone" in an e-mail and you want to convey that you are joking and not serious (as was my intent).
I'm not entirely sure what "domestic partner" means (I have an idea what it might mean in Canada but Briton might be different). If I was to guess, and this is only a guess, I'd assume that the word "partner" carries with it the same sort of weight as 'husband' or 'wife', meaning someone that presumably going to be living with for the rest of your life (you know that whole 'till death do you part' business) and a sibling might be someone you might be obligated to help out, but that's as far as the relationship should go . . . except in some of the southern states ;)
You pretty much got it. In other words, if you have a physical relationship, it's all good with the insurance companies, but not for siblings. That just seems a bit unfair to me.
But let's bring this conversation back on topic. No matter what my political opinions or social beliefs in practice, I say that for Tristan and Lavinia - bring on the Sapphic Snogging!!!! Domestic partners, indeed!!!
Oh, and -> :), just so P.H. knows my intent. ;)
Too much like a Bush clone. Although he seems able to speak coherently . . . I'll give him that.
Obviously not a clone then.
Obviously not a clone then.Too much like a Bush clone. Although he seems able to speak coherently . . . I'll give him that.
Hey, if you’re going to parse speech, a clone is an exact genetic copy, and while a charismatic aptitude may have a genetic component, public speaking is a learned skill, which would not be reproducible by cloning. I can give Guy his use of “clone” as a figure of speech, but if you want to get technical, what makes him “Obviously not a clone then” is that they don’t look alike.
Capt. Spaulding: I used to know a fellow who looked exactly like you by the name of Emanuel Ravelli. Are you his brother?
Ravelli: I am Emanuel Ravelli.
Capt. Spaulding: You're Emanuel Ravelli?
Ravelli: I am Emanuel Ravelli.
Capt. Spaulding: Well, no wonder you look like him. But I still insist there is a resemblance.
Ravelli: Heh, heh, he thinks I look alike.
Capt. Spaulding: Well, if you do, it's a tough break for both of you.
-Animal Crackers, 1930
Ah, not genetic, but rather political clone. They're very similar in ideas and policy.
But I still insist there's a resemblance.
Just read the journal in about 12 hours. Thanks for pointing me towards it as it's good to uh... 'adapt' the ideas of others for my own running of this.
Anyway, I really like the way you have done this, and I love the journals. BUT, I think I've found that I love to hate Tristan even more... in a good way :)
Just read the journal in about 12 hours. Thanks for pointing me towards it as it's good to uh... 'adapt' the ideas of others for my own running of this.Remember to call it Resurch
Anyway, I really like the way you have done this, and I love the journals. BUT, I think I've found that I love to hate Tristan even more... in a good way :)LoL, that's an interesting reaction :)
You'll have to explain why sometime. Good luck with your own campaign BTW.
Ah, but of course begins the fun!
Thankyou for the luck blessing.
The moment we’d all been waiting for happened right in the middle of breakfast. Not knowing when I’d get to eat again I snatched up a couple of oranges on my way out. I was thankful later . . . it was going to be a long day.
The bell sounded twice then paused for two seconds. That meant that they were coming from the north. If they were moving to circle us we’d have heard two rings, pause, and then one more toll. Clearly nothing had been spotted by anyone to the south yet. We quickly moved to the Wyvern. Around us people were already moving into action, barricades were going up, weapons and armour were being taken up. I watched as the phanatons easily climbed the ropes to reach the platforms I’d built when I’d first arrived in Farshore. The Oman zombie masters ordered their zombie troglodytes into the water to overturn the landing boats . . . strange to have the same monsters that attacked our town now defending it.
When we arrived at the Sea Wyvern it was already to cast off. James and the crew had been staying with the ship night and day these last few weeks. Amella and her crew had been doing the same, and with all the drills we’d run, the loading of each vessel was going smoothly. We cast off our lines first. We need to be the first out of the harbour in case the Crimson Fleet somehow cleared the distance and we needed to fend them off by ourselves while Amella and the Blue Nixie escaped. Thankfully this wasn’t the case. As we sailed through the harbour mouth the Crimson Fleet where little more then dots on the horizon. I took this lull in the action to eat one of the oranges.
The Blue Nixie sailed out of the harbour and we followed her around the island. When we saw the clear stretch of water between the peninsula and our small island we broke off and turned back. We lay in wait not too far to the south of the Farshore harbour behind the great cliff face. Any ship sailing past the harbour mouth and along the coast would spot us almost immediately but we were hidden from the harbour mouth and, obviously, from any ships within Farshore itself. Now we waited. If the Crimson fleet gave chase we were ready to ambush. If they attacked the harbour we were ready to flank.
I pulled out my second orange and ate it. I’m beginning to think that it’s the waiting I hate the most.
Suddenly the bells were ringing again. The fleet had entered the harbour! James’ crew weighed anchor and we prepared to attack. I half expected to run smack dab into one of the crimson fleet as we rounded the bend, but they were not to be seen. We slowly turned into the harbour mouth and found all five ships there already releasing landing parties. Two of the red sailed ships had jammed themselves into my sand bars. One had dropped anchor just within the mouth of the harbour. Only one had managed to find its way relatively close to shore. Another ship was desperately trying to get closer to the shore for some reason. Already the beach was a bloody mess, bodies of pirates lay scattered about the shore (some bobbed lifelessly in the water), and many more limped along the beach trying to find shelter from the hail of arrows. This was cold comfort though; there were still dozens of boats yet to land, and hundreds of pirates yet to kill. We swooped in behind the first ship we saw.
The enemy ship was a caravel, similar to our own, and currently it had just a skeleton crew. We tried to get as close as we could before attacking but someone on board must have spotted us as they quickly began firing on us. What ensued was a long range shooting match which saw the last of the pirates fall just as we got within boarding range. We quickly jumped on board the pirate vessel, sending the Wyvern along to block and harass the other four ships, while Kale and James quickly cut the anchor ropes, and we moved to ram the next ship in the line.
I watched in horror as a fireball launched from our target and exploded into the town. They had magic! It also explained why they’d been struggling to get closer to the shore. I suppose magic was to be expected, few armies anywhere in the world relied purely on brute strength, and I knew that the Crimson Fleet was seen as the scourge of the Pearl Sea. Without magic such a reputation was simply impossible. I turned invisible and took flight.
To be honest I wasn’t entirely sure what I was about to do but I did know that this navel bombardment needed to be stopped. I used my boots to levitate three stories over the deck of the pirate ship, below me I saw four snake like creatures along with another skeleton pirate crew, and I was relatively sure that the snake creatures were responsible for the spells. I began summoning. I was certain that high above the ship and over the roar of the battle, my light chanting would be undetectable, but at the last possible moment one of the snake monsters cast a fly spell and took to the air! My giant wolf like creature appeared right beside where the monster stood just moments earlier. I ordered my wolf to deal with the freaks below while I summoned support. Suddenly my summons disappeared! My snake like opponent had cast dismissal! Things had suddenly gotten far, far more serious.
My flying opponent was a spell caster, likely a sorcerer, and if it was able of casting dismissal once it was likely capable of casting it perhaps a half dozen times. My summon spells were now suddenly useless. I knew the others would have to deal with this monster for me. I quickly flew down to reunite with them. Buffy had cast the spell that allowed them to run across the water (they could run faster then the ship could sail) and they were just arriving as I flew down. I used a haste spell to speed them up further. The battle to board the vessel would be bloody and fierce. Fredrick had made use of one of his fly potions and moved to attack the flying spell casting snake like creature, too bad it had already cast mirror image on itself, but with Fredrick harassing it I felt it was probably taken care of. I decided to cast dispel magic on the monster in hopes of dropping the mirror images . . . but they stayed up (much to my chagrin). The fly spell was dispelled though and he did float down to the deck of the ship. Fredrick attacked the monster but only managed to slice through mirror images.
The dispel made me visible as the act of targeting caused the refracting light to realign and dissipate. The other serpent creatures took the opportunity to harass me with their bows. I was nicked a few times, received a few cuts, but there were no direct hits. The spell caster wasn’t finished with me yet. Lightning launched from his humanoid hands, instantly arced through the twenty feet that separated us, and tore through my body. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced pain like that. Instantly my entire body felt like it was seizing up, I felt intense heat, I saw bight lights and colours, and the horrible tingling sensation would remain for much of the day. I reactivated my ring to give myself time to gather my wits.
Bellow me I saw Kale, James, and Buffy successfully climb on board the ship, they surged forward cutting into the pirates and snakes (creating a small pocket to allow Kiki, Orlani, and Churtle to climb on board) but they were unable to reach the spell caster. The snake moved away from Fredrick and rays of flame launched from the casters hands and into our finesse fighter. Fredrick was not a very big man, and truth be told, I wouldn’t have thought him much tougher then myself, but somehow he withstood the sorcerer’s spell and surged forward. Again, however, only illusions fell before his blades. The snake must have sensed things were turning against him for he once again took to the air. He now was reduced to three, two images, and one was the real deal. Fredrick flew after the beast . . . gambled, and somehow lost again. Our enemy was reduced to two . . . and one was the true serpent. I decided to use a bit of magic of my own to reduce the chances, but rather then gamble, I lunched a handful of magic bolts at the two. One instantly disappeared, but the other, much to my horror, had the missiles dissipate around him! Spell resistance!
Back in university I hated dealing with spell resistance. It was one of my weakest skills and one of the reasons I decided to go into conjuration, in this school I was seldom targeting anything directly, and if I needed too, many of the spells summoned an actual physical effect that simply bypassed resistance. Thankfully I haven’t encountered many beasts with spell resistance up to this point, a couple of demons here and there, but this monstrosity was the first beast that I can recall that wasn’t a demon that possessed this (thankfully) very rare ability.
The monster knew it was in trouble. It gained a bit of distance from Fredrick and cast mirror image again! I was having none of it! I blasted the beast with a fireball. My explosive magic destroyed the mirror images but I again failed to pierce it’s magic resistance. Fredrick didn’t waste the opportunity, the monster had no more defences, and Fredrick swooped in and began aerating the monster with his rapiers. Bellow the fight on deck was drawing to a close. Buffy took the opportunity of the lull in the fighting to cast dispel magic. Again the spell casting snake descended to the deck. Fredrick stabbed the creature as it fell and Churtle slashed up at it with her spiked chain as it floated into her wheel house. For some reason the monster saw this last attack as it’s biggest threat and launched more rays of flame at Churtle! The flames, which had been powerful enough to stagger Fredrick, knocked Churtle down instantly.
I suddenly realised I was screaming, if that was in rage or horror I couldn’t tell, and I found myself summoning an orb of cold before I could stop myself. The snake would be momentarily surrounded, it had nowhere to run, and the Swords of Sasserine would make short work of the foul aberration. However part of me wanted revenge, I was able to catch myself from twisting the magic before launching it, but a strange and monstrous part of my psyche had the spell on my lips before the analytical side could grab hold . . . the spell blasted into the monster and I flew down to try to save Churtle. Her body had been ravaged by the fire, her breathing was ragged, but with Buffy’s aid I believed she’d live. Behind me I heard the serpent’s death rattle as someone thrust their blade deep into the monster’s eye socket and into it’s brain. Only the part of the pirate crew remained standing. They also fought to the death. I had a wand of charm, which I’d hopped would be of use turning the pirates against one another, but Norebo was not on my side at this point, and the remaining crew needed to be put down the hard way.
The ship was ours. Again James and Kale cut the anchor lines. This ship still had partial sails and James took the wheel and turned it towards the next ship in the line. This time for sure I thought we might ram our opponents but something in the sky caught my eye. There were six shapes flying towards Farshore. Five I recognised almost immediately: Vrocks! It took me a moment to realise in what direction they were headed . . .
“Lavinia!” I cried.
“What?” Kale asked, quickly glancing around, and studying the shore, “where?”
“Look,” I snapped pointing to the sky, “Those are Vrocks, foul demons from the depths of the abyss, and they’re headed past our defences and into the centre of town! That’s where Lavinia is commanding . . .”
“So?” Kale said, “She’s a smart girl. She wouldn’t try to stand up to that, and she and the Jade Ravens have agreed to fall back to the mansion if . . .”
“You don’t understand,” I said, “Vrocks have a horrible ability . . . it’s called the dance of ruin, if three of them get together and dance for a few moments they can summon forth a destructive blast that’s over three times larger and twice as destructive then any fireball I could hurl. If they get that off it’ll break the backs of our defence. It’ll flatten the centre of town for sure!”
“What do we do?” Buffy asked. Alarm was sinking in.
I scanned the beach, there was no way we could fight through that rabble in time, and Fredrick and I were the only ones who could fly . . .
“Kale, Fredrick, James, and Kiki, to me!” I called, “Buffy, get Churtle back on her feet, Orlani, ram this damn ship into that damn ship, and when that’s done, either try to rejoin with the Sea Wyvrn or try to catch up with us in the centre of town. Everyone gather close!”
I didn’t let anyone argue. Moments later the five of us stood near the chapel. Already people were scattering as the dark shapes loomed overhead. I didn’t see Lavinia anywhere so I assumed that she had retreated back to the mansion or had been drawn out elsewhere. I didn’t care where she was at the moment . . . so long as she wasn’t here.
The Vrocks landed. There were five of them, two landed near us, and the other three formed a circle some sixty feet away. I turned invisible and took flight. Behind me my companions clashed with the vrocks, they let out deafening bone chilling cry, but I had no time for malarkey! I had a dance of ruin to stop. I flew over the dancing vrocks and activated my boots and began summoning. I’d made a major tactical error I realised as I formed the words in my head. I wasted too much time with my magical items instead of summoning strait away. Fredrick had flown with me and he was desperately trying to drop one of the demons, but his rapiers weren’t doing much damage to the horrid beasts. Already the vrocks were reaching the crescendo, in moments they’d release a wave of devastation . . . and my summons would arrive seconds too late. For a moment I thought we were facing the end . . . then suddenly Kale lunged into one of the dancing vrocks. He practically flew sword first at the demon. The beast let out a horrible screech and fell forward. The demons had been stopped with not a second to spare.
There was no time for a celebration however; two angry looking demons stood in front of Fredrick and Kale, and one of the guardian vrocks had followed close at Kale’s heels. Suddenly we were facing three vrocks. Had we not just destroyed two in less then thirty seconds I would have been worried, vrocks are horribly fierce demons with strange and unusual powers, but Kale and company seemed to have no problem slicing through them. Still, there where three remaining, and we’d only killed one in combat and the other had been defenceless. My summons finally appeared, a massive one eyed boar, and I ordered it to join the fray. The vrocks tried to stagger their cries to keep us on our heels, they sprayed horrible flesh eating spores that attacked and ate away at our front line, and they attacked with tooth and claw . . . but we beat them back. Soon three demonic corpses lay in the shadow of the chapel. It seemed that two of the beasts had been summoned by the others and their bodies dissipated as they fell. No matter. They were no longer a concern.
I didn’t think that the crimson fleat could offer up anything more deadly then that . . . but the day was far from over. The oman villager Carborundum rushed up to us as the last of the vrocks fell.
“Something happens at beach!” he shouted in common, “the zombie masters say something is coming up from the ocean floor,” he quickly added in his own native tongue.
We charged to the beach (thankfully only a few hundred feet away). The open spaces were now surprisingly devoid of the living. There were bodies everywhere, especially the closer we got to the water, but the actual fighting was happening amongst the alleyways and buildings. As we approached the water I caught sight of Buffy, Churtle, and Orlaini running back to the shore (still under the effects of Buffy’s water walk spell), Orlani had done as I’d asked and the ship they’d been on had been used to ram the other, but neither ship had been sunk. One drifted aimlessly in the harbour, the other had been driven hard into one of my artificial sand bars and now listed hard to the right side, almost completely on its side, and the crew now floundered and swam in the harbour.
A fat misshapen head suddenly popped out of the water, followed by another, and then another. They were lumpy bloated things and as they climbed out of the water I could see the thick stitches on their bodies. Not undead but flesh golems. There were four of them, mindless walking walls of muscle and flesh, and they were practically immune to my magic. My better summons had been used up but I called some dogs to stall and flank and distract but I left Kale and company to deal most of the damage. I did take advantage of some of my more primitive magic, there was a spell called ‘snake swiftness’ that I’d bought and scribed into my spell book a while back, and these golems proved to be the perfect time to test it. Kale proved to be a useful target . . . he hit hard and often, and he was often in the thick of things. Causing him to hit more often only helped our cause. These non living monstrosities hit pretty hard but even they fell under our relentless onslaught.
Buffy began healing us. I insisted the front line go first. I was in pain but it was nothing I couldn’t live with. I scanned the beach and village for signs of battle. I caught sight of the navel battle. The Wyvern was caught in a desperate fight with one of the two remaining pirate ships. The larger flag ship looked as though it was about to join the fight when suddenly small dark shapes dropped from the sky onto the unsuspecting crew. It took a moment to realise that it was the phanatons gliding down from the sniper platforms. The fight on board was quick and brutal . . . the pirates hadn’t seen the phanatons and most of them died having never seen the phanatons. The others were quickly overwhelmed and pulled down to the deck where thankfully my eyes were shielded from the final blows by the railing. I’d often heard that the phanatons were vicious fighters but I guess there was some disconnect from those words and their cute and cuddly appearance. In mere seconds the phanatons had removed a perceived threat . . . already they were giving aide to the Wyvern as the pirates found themselves caught in a cross fire.
“Lavinia is under attack!” Brent said running down from the beach, the side of his face was red with blood, and his arm had thick gash in it and been tied off above the wound to stop the bleeding, “they’ve advanced along the walls and they’re trying to get into the mansion! We need reinforcements!”
I had no time for healing.
“We have to go!” I hollered, I did wait for the others, although it took much of my remaining will power. I didn’t know what else was lurking.
We quickly climbed the hill and discovered that Lavinia wasn’t keeping up her side of the bargain. The front steps of her house were littered with the bodies of dead pirates that had probably thought that the lady and her body guards were pushovers. Although in the planning stages Lavinia had agreed that she and the Jade Ravens would stay in reserve one could hardly fault her for protecting her own home. I was secretly pleased that she’d taken up her sword and decided to deal with the rabble on her doorstep. The thugs looked thoroughly beaten . . . but yet they remained in the fringes . . . waiting for something. I thought that the sight of reinforcements might cause them to turn and flee but they held their ground . . . with fear in their eyes.
“Lavinia!” a strange yet familiar voice called from the group of murderous vagrants, “you think you’ve won but it’s over, you’re out of tricks, and my pirates are in the town killing what remains of your defenders. You can still save your precious little town though . . .” suddenly a form pushed through the brigands, a form which I’d not seen for a long time, and one that had gone through many sinister changes, “come with me and I’ll spare your town. I still love you and I wouldn’t let any of these animals touch you . . . come with me and I can make it just like old times . . .”
“Vanthus?” Lavinia gasped.
It was Vanthus! He’d changed though, he was no longer human, he’d grown wings, horns, a tail, and his eyes glowed with an unnatural red glow. I was stunned, Lavinia was stunned, and everyone else was stunned. We’d not seen the horrible little creep for months and I’d almost put him into the back of my mind . . .
“Hello sister,” Vanthus said with a smile, “it’s me!”
“No, you’re not Vanthus,” Lavinia cried, “My brother was murdered by the same monster, on the same night, that the rest of my family was murdered! What I see before me is the rotting husk of my dead brother . . . you’re nothing . . . an abomination . . . the mockery I see standing before me is nothing more then filth wearing his skin like some monstrous parasite.”
I felt my hands clench into fists.
“So we do this the hard way,” Vanthus growled as he took to the air, “Lavinia Come!” he snapped as his eyes flared.
I recognised the subtle shift in pitch and tone in his voice, the hand’s hypnotic gestures: he was trying to dominate her!
“Never!” she called as she took up her sword again.
“Get her!” Vanthus order his troops.
I was seeing red. Much of the sound of the battle was being washed out by this strange gurgled roar I was hearing in my ears. My teeth were clenched so tight my jaw hurt.
He turned to us, “the real battle is out there,” he said, pointing to the town, “that’s where you’re needed . . .” he was trying to use suggestion on us, James and Kale (the weak willed fools) turned to leave . . . I saw that smug little smile creep onto Vanthus’ face . . .
“VANTHUS!!” I cried as I flew straight at him.
In my current state I would have tried to lay my hands on him. I wasn’t in any shape for fighting and Vanthus wasn’t likely any pushover. He had a magic long sword and sickle and it seemed likely that he knew how to use them . . . fortunately for me magic is almost like second nature to me now. The orb of cold which I was forming was done almost subconsciously. I remember saying the words, twisting it in my mind as it formed, throwing it, but it felt like an out of body experience. I felt almost like I was watching someone else cast the spell. The orb leapt from my hand. Almost instantly my hands curled into claws as I prepared to maul the fiend with my bare hands. Vanthus half turned to see the orb arching towards him . . . the sneer half dropped . . . and then was frozen in place forever.
The orb had struck true. It had seemed to arch perfectly. It had seemed to have flown faster. It hit Vanthus square in the chest, and then, unlike any other time I’d used the orb, it seemed to instantly turn Vanthus a whitish blue. He instantly stopped moving and he fell like a brick out of the sky. He hit the ground like a pane of glass.
The fight was instantly over. The pirates that witnessed that horror dropped their weapons and fled. Terror and despair flowed over the villainous scum like a wave. Soon the pirates fled from all corners of the town . . . but when they got to their boats they discovered that their armada was annexed. Some jumped into their row boats and fled anyways, perhaps trying to reach some distant shore. Some jumped into the water and swam. Some tried to surrender . . . but there was little compassion on the beach that day . . .
I’m told that the Oman zombie masters had created a fresh batch of zombies from the crimson fleet dead and left them with instructions to kill anyone on the beach . . . the townsfolk and decided to keep the remaining pirates at bay . . . shooting at them if they came too close or tried to flee back into the town . . . and the zombies had made quick brutal work of anyone they caught. As far as I know there were no survivors . . .
The fate of that rabble was of no concern to me. I flew down and grabbed Lavinia in my arms. She was looking at the shattered mess that had been her brother. She felt numb.
“You’re safe now,” I mumbled, “he’ll never hurt you again.”
Lavinia just cried. She’d been strong all day . . . now her town was safe . . . now we could cry for the dead.
Now begins the mourning,
Cthulhu dreams
That is awesome and yet anticlimactic at the same time.
From a story telling point of view, I'd agree, but I'd bet it didn't seem anticlimactic at the table rolling the dice and seeing that 20.
I notice that Tristan keeps mentioning using her boots of levitation and fly spell at the same time. Is this to cast? I ask, because it caused me to look up the fly spell in the PHB, which specifies that the user can cast and still fly. So is there another purpose to using the boots and spell at the same time?
Thanks!
And I love this journal!! It would make a great novel.
I knew what ya meant Dax :) (hope your campaign is running smoothly BTW)From a story telling point of view, I'd agree, but I'd bet it didn't seem anticlimactic at the table rolling the dice and seeing that 20.Yeah, that's it. That's what I meant by awesome and anticlimactic.
Well :p!
I notice that Tristan keeps mentioning using her boots of levitation and fly spell at the same time. Is this to cast? I ask, because it caused me to look up the fly spell in the PHB, which specifies that the user can cast and still fly. So is there another purpose to using the boots and spell at the same time?
Thanks!
And I love this journal!! It would make a great novel.
Ah! Good question! The 3rd level fly spell has a maneuverability rating of good, which according to pg 20 of the DMG means that you can hover, but this spell has a duration of 1 minute per level. Overland Flight, the spell Tristan has been using as of late, has a duration of 1 hour per level but only an average maneuverability. If we look at the chart on pg 20 of the DMG we see that with average maneuverability you cannot hover.
Now summon spells require one full round of casting, which means in order to summon Tristan can't take a move action, and because overland fight has no hover ability Tristan would normally have to land if she wished to cast. This is where the boots come into play! The boots of levitation allow Tristan to stand over the action and use her summons.
Hope that answers your question :)
Yes it does - thanks. And it tells me I'd better take another look at Overland Flight!
Guy,
We looked it up and you're right about the stacking! We had thought that Ray of Enfeeblement seemed awefully powerful for a 1st level spell. We will still use it, of course, just within the rules! I don't know why we didn't realize this before. Our DM just laughed.
Hey, Guy;
Just a quick question: Are you chronicling basically where you are in the game? If not, how far are you in actual game play?
Eight dead. I can hardly believe my ears. The town was strewn with bodies. No one seems to have escaped injury . . . but somehow only eight villagers lie dead in our chapel.
The clean up operation began almost immediately. Smarnil oversaw the burial of the dead. A ditch would hold the pirates. Cart after cart carried their grim weight through the town and up towards the woods where a trench had been dug. It was hard to imagine. There were nearly two hundred dead. I did some calculations and found that the initial trench had been too small . . . so many corpses. I was thankful for our Oman guests, the zombies were tireless workers, and if not for them, much of the ghoulish work would have been by hand.
At first the work seemed as insurmountable, as insurmountable the very battle we’d just won, but the people of Fareshore and the Isle of Dread were no strangers to hardship. The dead were everywhere. Bodies were pulled from the harbour, from the beach, from alleys and buildings all around the town, and some needed to be pried loose from Churtle’s vicious traps. The log trap in particular was a truly gruesome display of kobold ingenuity. Three corpses needed to be cut free as no amount of pulling seemed able to dislodge them. Special heed was taken with the demons. No living thing wanted to go near or handle those unworldly remains. Special care was taken with Vanthus as well. His shattered form was swept up and dumped into a barrel
Our locals would lie in state until we dug the graves.
. . .
I found Lavinia crying this afternoon. She was alone in her office, the curtains were drawn, and she tried to cover up when she heard me enter.
“Lavinia,” I said as I moved around her desk to embrace her, “what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” she said wiping her eyes, “I was just alone with my thoughts.”
“It’s about Vanthus isn’t it?” I asked. It had only been a few hours since I’d dealt with that monster, and her tears after that encounter had been of relief and joy, but now, here in the dark, I felt that these were tears of sorrow, “you shouldn’t waste a drop of pity on that monster.”
“It’s not that,” she whispered, meaning that was exactly what it was, “it’s just that with everything that’s happened I somehow haven’t been able to mourn people properly.”
It took a while for me to make the connection.
“You’re mourning the brother that you knew as a child,” I whispered, “There’s nothing wrong with that, I know he was once your closest friend . . .” I felt Lavinia shudder, “but something changed in him, and he wasn’t the same person you once knew.”
“He changed,” Lavinia said, “he was a demon . . .”
“He’d made a pact with demons,” I agreed, knowing quite a bit about this topic, “he’s given up his soul of his own free will. Somewhere, somehow, he became a twisted individual.”
“Maybe if I’d stayed with him . . .”
“You can’t think of what might have been Lavinia, that’s a pointless exercise, we have no way of knowing if you could have saved him or simply became one of his victims.”
“Maybe we could have saved him,” she cried, “turned him, brought him back into the light . . .”
“Lavinia,” I snapped, I was growing frustrated with her crying. It didn’t suit her. She was simply being irrational. It wasn’t like her to give over to self serving pity, “you know that wouldn’t have worked, you know what he intended, and you know he had to be stopped. Everything you said to that monster was correct. Stop trying to re-write history!”
That brought a sudden influx of tears. For a moment I thought I’d gone too far. In her current mindset she was in no shape to hear the truth. A sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry is what she probably needed, but she held me tight, and I kept my arms around her. I found I could do little else. I wanted to help her, to comfort her, and yet I felt that I no longer knew how.
“I’m alone,” she whispered after a moment. I said nothing, afraid my words would bring even more tears, “Tristan,” She said louder, “I’m alone now.”
“You’re not alone,” I said before I could stop myself, “you have me. You have my friends. You have the Jade Ravens . . .”
“I’m the last of my family,” she said, “Vanthus was the last of my family . . .”
“That’s not true,” I said, “You have relatives in Cauldron. Maybe others elsewhere. You still have family, you still have friends. You’re not alone unless you want to be alone. Now,” I said pulling myself free and standing up, “I meant what I said, you’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere, but I don’t like this crying alone in the dark. It’s not healthy. You’ve been through a lot, you’ve got good reasons to morn, but you mustn’t do it alone. You have friends you can lean on, people you can trust, and if you ever get lonely come see me. I’ll be there.”
Lavinia and I looked at each other for the longest time. The tears didn’t quite vanish but I seemed to have stemmed the flow. She finally stood and wrapped her arms around me.
“Don’t ever change,” Lavinia whispered into my shoulder, “please don’t ever change.”
“I won’t,” I lied, feeling horribly guilty about it, “I’ll always be the same person . . .”
. . .
“They say the Vanderboren family is cursed,” a gruff sounding voice said at the table behind me, Kiki half turned to see who it was, but I felt my hackles go up and I found it impossible to move. If the man had any sense, or his friends knew any better, the conversation would end now, but sadly this wasn’t going to be the case.
“I heard it was Lavinia who Vanthus was after,” the foolish man continued, “I heard that he wouldn’t have even come to Farshore . . .”
I realised that the bar had suddenly gone quiet, I also realised I was suddenly standing (though my back was still to the boor), and it was about then that I noticed that my hand was bleeding. I glanced down at the bar and then up at a very nervous looking Malfus . . . seemed I owed the barkeep a new glass mug. I slowly turned to face the lout.
“Quiet Clem,” a very wise farmer said to his obnoxious and clearly drunken friend, “that’s one of Lavinia’s men, one of d’em Swords of Sasserine . . .”
“What’s she gonna do,” the drunk snapped, “we got laws here, maybe her lot won’t follow em’ but we can always put Manthalay back in charge. He’d sort you right out you smug witch, walking around town like you own the place.”
He didn’t say witch. I’d spent the better part of the morning helping to burry the dead. I didn’t recognise the drunk from any of the work crews I’d overseen and I suspect that he was one of a group of villagers that Manthalay had working for him and his own business interests. By his cloths I guess he was a miner.
“Before we continue,” I said, holding back by rage with every ounce of will I possessed, “let me see if I understand your argument. Vanthus came to Farshore to get his sister, whom he last saw in Sasserine five months ago, before he left the city forever, which was just after he murdered his own mother and father, but not before he could burn every bridge he had in that city. You’re saying that although he knew about Farshore, and although the pirates already had business on the Isle of Dread, it was his sister he was after. He sailed all the way south, with all his men, siege engines, golems, sorcerers, and demons just to get his sister. On top of that, the Crimson Fleet, a truly horrid harem of murdering pirates, decided to commit all those resources so Vanthus could get his sister back? I’ve heard tales like that before but I was able to tell fact from fiction at about the age of six. You still need to work at that . . .”
“I hear it was her what called him here,” the man said as he stood, “That the Vanderboren house is cursed. I know what happened to her parents, I know what happened to her on the way over here, and I know we ain’t had nothing but bad luck since she got here! She’s a demon like her brother.”
There were a few nods and murmurs of approval around the bar. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“This little speck of civilization just survived an attack by the dreaded Crimson Fleet! An assault that would have been powerful enough to sack a small city! You’re actually claiming that Lavinia has bad luck? That she was in cahoots with the crimson fleet? Are you serious? Too what end? Do you even know what’s coming out of that fat gob of yours before you open it? I mean you honestly think that you’d be better off if Lavinia hadn’t come, hadn’t tried honouring her parent’s memory, and hadn’t tried helping the people of Farshore? Right now there’s a harbour full of sailing ships, a couple of experienced captains in town, and a couple of warehouses full of goods that until now had no way of getting to any buyers. We’re about to set up trade routes to Sasserine and you’re daft enough to claim that you’d have been better off without Lavinia? I suppose you had a sailing ship made out of bamboo somewhere around here that I don’t know about?”
“All you do is talk,” the man snarled, Kiki would tell me later that his hands had balled into fists, and Churtle stepped between us, ready to deal with the thug should he take any steps towards me, “Manthalay is a man of action . . .”
“That’s where you got me wrong,” I growled, “I’m all about action. You keep this talk up and I’ll give you your fill of action. The Vanderboren family did have a curse on it, that curse was named Vanthus Vanderboren, and I’m the one who actioned his ass into oblivion. That’s what I do. I action people to death. I action people with horribly violent irreversible action. Now let me ask you: do you really want some action?”
I felt a shift in the atmosphere of the bar. People were suddenly very nervous. I felt bad afterwards, I should have acted with greater poise and restraint, but the mention of that horrible moment where Vanthus tried to dominate his sister was still too fresh a wound on my mind to let it pass. I knew violence would solve nothing at this point (except to further demonize me amongst Manthalay supporters) but at that moment I wanted nothing more then for that oaf to pull a knife on me.
His friends desperately tried to claw him down, “Don’t be a fool Clem,” one hissed, “she could kill you as easy as looking at you.” But the drunken fool pulled away from his friends and seemed to hear none of their warnings.
“You want ta kill me witch,” he said stepping around the table with his arms wide open, “go ahead. Show everyone here what a hero you really are! I’ve seen those things you summon . . .”
“Alright Clem,” Malfus said stepping out from behind the bar, “you’ve had too much to drink. I don’t want any violence in my Tavern. “
“You gonna take her side?” the drunk snarled.
“Let me ask you something Clem,” I said, “was it Avner or Manthalay who gave you these ideas? Wee Jas knows you’re not smart enough to think of them yourself.”
The man’s dimwitted face registered shock long enough for me to surmise my deduction had been perfectly astute. The Meravanchies would pay.
Malfus stepped between the drunk, Churtle, and me. The man’s friends quickly caught hold of him.
“Yes, take him away,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand as I returned to my stool, “he’s clearly not the problem. Someone’s been filling his head with ideas, and that can be a dangerous thing to do with drunks.”
I know my words didn’t help the situation any. My words spurred on the patsy as he struggled to get his hands on me, but I paid him no mind and I didn’t flinch as his rough hands came dangerously close to grabbing me. I was no longer interested in turning him into a floor stain. It seemed the Meravanchi clan wasn’t content to abide by the election results and it seemed likely that I was going to have to get involved.
“Could you turn him into a frog?” Kiki asked glancing up at the red faced buffoon.
‘He’d make a perfect frog,’ Hop-Toy croaked.
“Frogs tend to be princes,” I said with a sarcastic shrug, “don’t ask me why, but it’s in the witch’s handbook. I could do a donkey or a sheep with him.”
. . .
“Hello Avner,” I said through grated teeth, as the man entered his uncle’s office, I’d hoped to meet with his uncle but the help had insisted that the master was out, “might I have a word you?”
“Sure . . .” Avner said, looking a touch worried.
“Alone?” I asked, nodding to the servants who flanked the doorway.
“Oh . . . yes, well we have no secrets here . . .”
“Surely you’re not worried about being alone in a room with a woman are you?” I asked.
Avner licked his lips and glanced over at the butler and maid.
“Of course not,” Avner said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand, “you can wait outside. I’ll call if I need anything.”
I crossed the room as the door shut behind them.
“Alright you sad excuse for a human what the hell are you up to?” I snapped, my voice loud enough to carry my anger, but quiet enough so curious ears would have to strain to hear.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Avner gasped with mock surprise.
“Cut the act,” I snarled, “you’re supporters aren’t tactful enough to keep you and your uncle’s involvement a secret. Stop the smear campaign against Lavinia. I’ve put up with an awful lot of you these last few months, I won’t bother listing your deficiencies as I have other business this afternoon, but this is an all time low for even you. Lavinia is our rightfully elected mayor. Our victory over the Crimson Fleet is scarcely a day old and already you’re trying to plan the seed of failure in people’s minds? I want it to stop Avner . . . or so help me, I’ll do something, and I’m not exactly sure what that is yet, because nobody has ever deliberately disobeyed me before. It’ll be unpleasant that’s for sure. And I’ll likely be memorable, I’ll need to set an example of you, you see, but as to exactly what I’m still unsure. My mind is suitably twisted to come up with something horrible though . . . I hope you understand. Oh, and pass this message on to your horrible uncle, I want him to know that I’m well aware of his continued political aspirations and I’m here to crush them. If he continues I’ll need to do something equally horrible to him. Now don’t forget to tell him. I hate repeating myself. And remember I can turn invisible, fly, and teleport. If you think I’m bluffing, or incapable of something truly horrible, then just test me. There’s no safe place in this town. Good day.”
Avner had grown quite pale by the time I finished speaking and had no witty or flippant remarks. I left him in his uncle’s office.
. . .
“Excuse me,” I said to the dwarf behind the mound of paperwork, “Mr Khartan? I’m Tristan Lidu, you interviewed me for a news paper article a few months back. Do you remember me?”
The gruff looking dwarf glanced up at me, his ink smudged hands adjusted his steel rimmed glasses, and his other hand gently stroked his neatly trimmed beard. He regarded me coolly.
“No,” he said, “but I interview a lot of people and write a lot of articles. Maybe if you told me what the story was about.”
“My companions and I saved Sasserine? We all received the spiral?”
“Oh yes,” Khartan said, “I remember that. But I’ve interviewed you already and that story’s old. What do you want?”
“Well I saw your latest story about the massacre at Greenrock . . .” I held up the latest copy of the paper. The details of the story were sketchy and the wood cut illustration look childish at best. The walls weren’t even right as Greenrock had log walls and the illustration showed stone!
“Yes, well,” the scribe shrugged, “not our best work but there where no traveler reports and that’s all I could sketch together from council sources.”
“That doesn’t interest me,” I said folding the paper to focus on the other half of the paper, “I’m the one who reported the fort’s destruction. What I’m curious about is this section below the main article. Are people truly interested about gossip and unusual weather reports?”
“Sometimes,” he mumbled, “what you fail to realise is that we print once a month, we use fine print, and have over a page to fill. It’s a struggle sometimes to fill out . . . wait did you say that you visited fort Greenrock?”
“I’m wondering if you might be interested in publishing my diaries then,” I said, “I’m sure it would make adequate filler, and it’s filled with all manor of adventure including our discovery of the wreckage of fort Greenrock.”
“What sort of adventure?” the dwarf asked raising an eyebrow.
“Our battles with pirates, demons, dinosaurs, and our exploration of the Isle of Dread,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand, “also I have the accounts of the Crimson Fleet’s attempts to pillage the distant colony of Farshore and it’s resident’s valiant defence under the leadership of Lavinia Vanderboren.”
Khartan sat up.
“I might be interested in something like that,” he said.
“I only have a few conditions,” the dwarf rolled his eyes at that and slouched back over his work, “I’ll let you have exclusive rights to publish the serial format of my diary but I maintain the rights over their collected printing. I ask that you publish the works sequentially but you may use more recent entries for news material if you’d like. Lastly, although I know you’ll want to edit and trim my entries, please try to keep the spirit of my words whenever and where ever possible, and never ever put words in my mouth. Are these terms agreeable?”
“Perhaps,” he said, “I’d like to see some of the articles first.”
I dropped the first bundle of my translated diaries onto his desk with a thump.
“Those start with my meeting of Lavinia Vanderboren,” I said, “One week before the events with the Lotus Dragons. Now I have a meeting with the Dawn council and then the Witchwardens, that should give you ample time to decide if it’s something you’d be interested in. If everything is agreeable I’ll set up offices somewhere nearby and you can forward payments and questions there.”
. . .
“So these are the latest scrolls?” I asked Eric, Blenak’s assistant.
“Yes,” he said as he helped me sort through the bundles, “we got a lot from a foreclosure sale in Monmurg, and a selection from Greyhawk. Most of this Monmurg stuff looks like junk but I guess Blenak’s supplier picked up the most popular spells from the academies of Greyhawk.”
“So how come he’s buying all this stuff?” I asked, “Is business picking up?”
“Not really,” Eric said as he put another scroll onto the conjuration pile for me to peruse, “we have what the master calls ‘the usual rabble’ but I guess he’s making good money in trade off of most of the stuff you’re crew are selling him. He’s always asking about armour and rings to his suppliers. I think he’s trying to stay ahead of the curve.”
“Get what we need before we need it?” I said, “The old man knows his business. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. I’m a bit surprised that he’s buying specifically for us now but I’m guessing he knows what he’s doing.”
“You better believe I do!” Blenak snapped from behind us, causing Eric and myself to jump, “what’s this? Both my old and new lab assistants conspiring against me? Let’s figure out how to pull a fast one on old Blenak? Eric go mix orders! Tristan, don’t talk with the help, it puts ideas in their heads!”
“Blenak,” I said hugging the old man, “you surprised me.”
“Of course I did,” he said adjusting his glasses, “I can sneak up on any shirking lab assistant anywhere. Special slippers you see. It seems the magic still works! When did you get here? I was only out for a bite to eat.”
“Only a few minutes, Eric was just showing me the latest scrolls.”
“Eric should know that only the boss gets to show off the new merchandise,” Blenak said as he watched the poor maligned assistant move towards the labs, and waited for Eric to leave the room before turning back to me. “I must admit when I didn’t see you for the last few weeks I was beginning to worry something might have happened with those damned crimson . . .”
“That threat is finished,” I said, relief spread across Blenak’s face, “that’s partly why I’m here, with an overwhelming victory comes the spoils of war! We’ve got more magic items to exchange and I’ve got a new list of items we’d like to buy.”
“Let me see,” he said as he took my list, “hmmm, much of this is doable, and I think I know a couple of local shops for anything not in my stockroom.”
“One more thing,” I said before Blenak could disappear into the maze of his back rooms, “do you still enchant items?”
“Well now Tristan, I did those glasses for you as a special favour, the enchanting business is a young mans game, it’s physically and emotionally draining. Plus there’s no respect for magic these days! Back when I was starting in this business coming across an enchanted item was a marvel. Adventures would spend their entire lives searching for one, warriors would base their entire fighting style around a magical long sword or axe, but these days, seems every city or town has at least one shop specializing in magic. Warriors BUY items they want! Too much of the wonder has gone out of the business. Magic is now just a commodity like anything else . . .”
“Well,” I sighed, “you’re probably not going to like to hear this next request then . . .”
“What . . .” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Well you remember that spiked chain you helped me track down?”
“Kobold sized? Vaguely.”
“Well Churtle and I have put together the money to get it enchanted.”
“And you want me to do it?” Blenak groaned.
“We can take it elsewhere,” I said, “I’m sure there’s still someone who does that sort of thing . . .”
“It was a cold iron chain if memory serves,” Blenak said as he scratched his ear, “that stuff is especially difficult to work with . . . what sort of enchantments are you planning?”
“Well I suspect that we’ll be facing demons . . .”
“Hence the reasons for the cold iron.”
“Right no now we’re thinking of turning the chain into a holy weapon.”
“That pricey work . . .”
“I’ve managed to raise a little over twenty thousand . . .”
“My god! Were those pirates floating on gilded boats? I think I’m entirely in the wrong line of work! Fine I’ll enchant this chain for you, but only because I don’t trust others to take care of it.”
. . .
I just returned home after my extended tour of the seven villages when I was told there was a town council meeting. Churtle and I rushed back to Lavinia’s mansion to see what was up.
“Tristan!” Lavinia said as I entered her study, “you couldn’t have gotten back at a more opportune time! There’s a council meeting . . .”
“Yes I heard!” we quickly embraced, it had been two weeks, “time waits for no one! What’s the meeting about?”
“Well the ship is completely refurbished and loaded. Amella leaves first light tomorrow,” she said looking over her notes, “and there’s other business . . . I suppose you’ll want a bath?”
“Well yes, but . . .”
“There’s scarcely enough time for that before the meeting so you’ll have to hurry! Also I want to know how the tour went. I guess you’ll have to tell me about it as you wash up, I can give you a brief synopsis of our current business. You’ll want to hear this.”
. . .
My hair was still wet as we entered the chapel. The council had already assembled and were waiting on us. The rest of the Swords of Sasserine were in attendance, as were the Jade Ravens, and so was my priest of Wee Jas, Smarnil. I was surprised to see a couple of Oman and phanaton present as well. I’d though all of our allies had returned home by now, but seeing as they remained close to James I couldn’t help but wonder if the rogue had picked them up as crew.
“Well it seems that now that the lady has finally arrived we can get down to business,” Mathalay said, “I do hope we won’t keep you too long your grace.”
I heard Churtle give off a low growl. Her hands rested on the newly enchanted spiked chain she kept wrapped about her waist. Manthalay was no peacock like Avner but Churtle had grown strong over the past few months. Her scales had grown hard and resilient, her tiny frame was now more powerful then my own, and her skills both mystical and martial were quickly improving. Churtle had insisted on accompanying me to the seven villages to act as my body guard and she didn’t once seem incapable of filling that role. She was nearly as capable as our top swordsmen. Not quite, but nearly. If Churtle attacked Manthalay I had to think that Churtle would probably mop the floor with him.
“Tristan had just returned from a visit to the seven villages,” Kiki said, “I’d thought that a man who wanted to be mayor would be better informed.”
That bought out a few chuckles. Manthalay wisely choose to ignore the comment.
“If everyone would take their seats we can begin.” Lavinia said as she assumed the mayor’s seat.
. . .
“If we are to establish trade routes we’ll need to do something about Emraag the Glutton,” Manthalay was saying, “this monster must be dealt with as all beasts; he needs to be put down.”
“While I agree something needs to be done,” Lavinia said, “and this possible pirate nest in Gallivant Cove investigated, I think it would be far more beneficial and far less dangerous if we negotiated with the monster instead.”
“How would that be better?” Mathalay snapped, “You’re far too soft . . .”
“Like it or not the Glutton is a force to be reckoned with, the Crimson Fleet were scared of him, but arranging a deal with such a beast could be beneficial too our cause. If we can talk him into recognising our flag, bribe him into giving only our ships safe passage, we could effectively maintain a trade monopoly in these waters. Emraag could offer some security from other predators that might haunt these waters. Killing such a monster might be beyond our abilities now anyways.
“If we agree to negotiate with the glutton I’m prepared to put up an adequate ransom, if we can strike up a deal with the monster and come to some yearly tribute, said funds can be drawn from profits earned from yearly trade revenues. A certain amount of money would be needed to be allocated for security anyways; here we’d earn the equivalent of the protection of a small armada at, perhaps, a smaller price.”
I didn’t agree, paying a ransom for security set a bad president, and I’d thought that the glutton would be a loadstone around our necks. I could foresee the Glutton being more of a hindrance then a boon. Ridding ourselves of the beast early in Farshore’s development would only help stimulate the economy. The less threats in our waters the better. People would flock to trade with Fareshore eventually. Having to constantly dance around a sea monster wouldn’t be good for anyone. Lavinia already knew how I felt, I’d given my arguments privately, but I was willing to attempt negotiations if only because Lavinia had asked so nicely. It was hard to deny Lavinia anything when she was gently washing and massaging my shoulders.
“Then there is the matter of this pirate outpost . . .” Lavinia continued.
“I’m having a hard time understanding the destructive capabilities of these shadow pearls,” Manthalay said, “I’m not questioning the experiences of the Swords of Sasseine, nor their claims, but I find it hard to believe that if your late brother had such a weapon why didn’t he use it?”
“He never got a chance,” Fredrick said.
“It likely didn’t belong to him,” Kiki suggested.
“Maybe he was planning on using it until he discovered his sister was here?” Kale said.
“More likely Fredrick is right,” I said, “he was keeping the pearl as a trump card, to use if things didn’t go his way, but thankfully we never even gave him the opportunity.”
“But if you possessed such a weapon,” Manthalay mused, “why not use it on the town immediately and collect after the bedlam . . .”
“The savage monsters created from this dark magic are far more deadly then anything you could imagine,” I said thinking back to those horrors, “they would give even those pirates pause. A single pearl could potentially devastate a city like Sasserine. Someone has a goal in mind with these pearls, now that we know there’s more then one of them the thoughts of the pirates buying and selling these things from these ‘Lords of Dread’ . . .”
“We’ll likely need to deal with these fiends,” Kale said, “and perhaps Emraag may some information for us. It is his end of the island.”
“The Lords of Dread,” Manthalay snarled, “self styled nobles of terror, I don’t doubt that they’ll need to be dealt with, but first the glutton. I’d be weary of any treachery . . .”
“Oh don’t worry Lord Manthalay,” I said making eye contact, “I’m always on the look out for treachery.”
. . .
I give Amella a hug.
“Now when you return I want you to dock in harbour,” I said, “try to stay away from where you docked the Wyvern. It’s too much of a bother to get ships from off of those reefs!”
“Excuse me?” Amella said, there wasn’t even a hint of amusement on her face. Obviously it was still too soon to jest about disaster.
“I kid because I care,” I said, “sometimes it’s better to laugh then cry. I wish you nothing but the best of luck on your return trip. I’ll be expecting you in half a year’s time.”
Amella gave my shoulder a squeeze. “You take care of yourself Tristan. Try to stay out of trouble. I’ll be expecting to see you as well.”
I gave her a final hug before she climbed the gang plank to the Brine Harlot, I wish she’d let me change her ship’s name, but she’d be aghast at the suggestion. Changing a ship’s name was simply bad luck. I’d felt slightly embarrassed when I registered the ship back in Sasserine in anticipation of the return expedition, but now that she was refitted she was a fine looking ship, despite the off colour name. Amella didn’t seem bothered by the name in the slightest. She climbed up into her ship and began cursing immediately. Perhaps the ship was a good fit for her.
Better luck on the return trip Amella,
Cthulhu dreams
So how much of the first three or four conversations did you actually RP?
Okay, that was sweet to see my "name" in the diary. Thanks! As I was dropping it into the doc file, I was tempted to purposly add something to "put words into [her] mouth," but decided against it. Awesome. Thanks again!