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A cataclysmic war, referred to hereafter as the Collapse, erupted about one thousand years into creation, and all but three demigods, all but two races, and all the gods died off. The tattered remnants of the world held together through the power of the three surviving demigods, including yours; the female demigod of the elves, named Asa. Three huge alchemic weather machines keep the world habitable, while the demigods have dispensed with the use of Heralds in favor of Avatars: physical projections of themselves that can walk and talk like people.

The afterlife was dismantled in the wake of the Collapse, and now, all souls are simply ‘inverted’ in the seas of Chaos outside reality after death, and absorbed by their corresponding demigod.

You were assigned by your King to track down a gang of bandits that had sided with the secessionists in the southlands, but were ambushed and nearly murdered by the conspiracy and their ancient weapon, the Orb of the Feathered Demon. Because the weapon can kill demigods, the Pantheon survivors made you a Herald in secret, and have charged you with killing the ten conspirators who survived the battle in the woods.

Previously, you learned that an alchemic jammer can be used to disable the teleporter Soutri has acquired. Though your own efforts to spread positive rumors of your return are countering his own, more sinister rumors, the other four members of the conspiracy seem to have dropped off the map completely. You can’t really stop to deal with that right now, though, so you’re preparing to meet the King’s Spymaster, so that you can survey Soutri’s home.


All mechanics are based on a 1d100+modifier roll.

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It’s a few hours before sunrise, you’ve nervously cleaned every scrap of clothing in the house, your husband is getting dressed, and you’re about to go visit a friend who got mangled by a hitman you’ve since killed.

You are Elsa, and your morning is off to a poor start.

“They’re still fucking out there!” you growl, glaring at the ranks of excited people outside.

“Even getting the mail will be a challenge,” your husband agrees in disgust. He flips them the bird behind your privacy-warded window. “At least I can go to work in the tunnels.”

“Yeah.” You squeeze him around the middle as he walks by. “Good luck. Stay safe.”

“Thanks,” he says, returning the hug with a kiss. “See you after your party.”

You grin wistfully as he disappears. ‘Party’ doesn’t really describe a Royal gala. But then, all Maas said was that you were wanted. Maybe it will be a more private affair?

You can’t assume that. Climbing down into the basement, you stop in front of your clothes racks and look them over.

>You already have Royal clothes – your Heraldic uniform!
>Go in your Skirmisher formal uniform
>Go in go in full Heraldic armor except the mask
>Go buy something else
>writein

>>35135695
>Go in go in full Heraldic armor except the mask

>>35135695
>>You already have Royal clothes – your Heraldic uniform!
blarb dress up

>>35135695
>>You already have Royal clothes – your Heraldic uniform!
Fancy dancy

Your armor is unique, literally one-of-a-kind. It’ll do. It will have to.

You climb back upstairs and pull a traveling cloak on over military-issue standard clothes, which are about as ubiquitous as air in this city. You need to go to Arisa’s, and you need to shop. You could take the tunnel to the Utility tower or the castle, and make your way through the streets from one of those places, or you could risk the back door.

>Travel overland (faster, great risk of detection)
>Just leave by the front door (fuck the fanbase)
>Take the tunnel to the Utility tower (no chance of detection, VERY slow – risk of not being able to complete all tasks before the meeting)
>Take the tunnel to the castle – (lower risk of detection than overland by either means, but you have to assume the castle is being watched)

>>35136297
Do a quick change into Heraldic uniform, since I think those last 2 votes came in too late.

>Leave by the front door
Gonna have to face them eventually.

I can do that.

For clarity, does the audience actually want to go about the city in uniform, or just to the party?

>>35136638
Just the party.

You will not allow some faceless assholes to control your life. You set your shoulders, secure your dagger under your cloak, and slip some money in an inner pocket. “Mai’te, give me strength to confront my strongest supporters,” you whisper as you unlock the door.

In an instant – an instant! It’s still dark outside! – the crowd starts buzzing. “Lady Ledren! Lady Ledren!” they all start shouting.

You finish locking the door and turn to them with raised hands. “My friends, please, I’m in a great hurry!” you tell them, feeling that incredible new power flow through your mind. Addressing the crowd is completely effortless. This would have been useful a few other times in your life. “Kindly part, so that I can get to where I need to be.”

While most immediately scamper out of your way, a few linger, thrusting forth pads of paper. “No autographs, I’m afraid,” you say, brushing past them. “I haven’t the time.”

One stays. “Wait, Lady, please, I need to ask you something!” she says, pushing an envelope at you. “Can you get this to the King?”


>Take it, but pass it to a Shadow at some point
>”No.”
>Take it and give it to Maas
>writein

>>35137007
>>Take it, but pass it to a Shadow at some point
What's the worst that could happen?

>>35137007
>Take it, but pass it to a Shadow at some point
Tell her it'll have to go through the shadows to check for poison and whatnot.

You shake your head. “No, but I can make sure he gets it eventually,” you say politely, accepting the envelope. Ignoring her disappointed look, you drop it in your mailbox – which is full to bursting, apparently – and walk off into the crowd.

The group of people seem a bit off-put by your apparent dismissal of the woman with the message, but still reverent, staying back a few paces until you reach the edges. To your deep unease, some actually peel off and look to follow you.

You quicken your footsteps until you open the gap, then vanish into the larger traffic patterns in the streets past your block. You can’t tell if they’re still following you, but there’s not much you can do about it.

>Fuck it, we’re just going to Arisa’s.
>Page Asa and ask for advice
>Lose them somehow (ROLL 1d100+10)

Rolled 14 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>35137378
>Lose them somehow

Rolled 6 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>35137378
>>Lose them somehow (ROLL 1d100+10)

Rolled 2 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>35137378
>>Lose them somehow (ROLL 1d100+10)
whee rolls

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Jesus christ.

>>35137592
I can't believe I rolled the highest

You pick up your pace even more, but before you can escape entirely, you trip on your cold boots and face-plant on the road. You let out a muffled squeak of surprise and quickly roll to your feet, face flushed. “Exactly what I needed,” you grumble as a few pedestrians stare.

You move across the huge city as fast as you can, and arrive at Arisa’s before too long. Outside the building, you feel your heart sink even more as you see the size of the crowd inside – the building is packed. Still, they’re all moving, you see through the windows, and they’re moving into the backyard, where Arisa holds her larger meetings.

[Sister, are you up and about?] Asa asks in your mind.

{I am. I want to check on Arisa, but there’s some kind of hubbub in her house,} you tell her.

[Are you surprised? She’s probably holding a meeting to demonstrate she can still run the boat right after being attacked.]

{I guess. Is something wrong?}

[No, but I wanted you to know that one of Forest’s people just killed herself by throwing herself out of the prisoner transport wagons,] she sighs. [No new information, though we have Moor’s warehouse better-mapped now. I’ll speak to the King after this party of his.]

{Thanks.}


>Go into the house undisguised
>Discreetly find Arisa if you can
>Just hang back and observe
>writein

>>35137975
>Discreetly find Arisa if you can

You draw in a breath and rub the dirt off your face. Time to take a risk. You slip around behind the manor and peer into the backyard, where Arisa is sitting behind a lectern, patiently watching the crowd find seats. You hiss under your voice, until she looks over and her eyes widen. She looks like she’s about to stand up and walk over when you put a finger to your lips, which she can just make out through the fence. She nods and looks back to the crowd. “My friends, thank you all for coming,” she says loudly. “I appreciate that you can all attend on such short notice.”

The crowd murmurs responses, but they’re listening, rapt. “As you all know, I was attacked in my home yesterday,” she says gravely. “A thief, working for the enemy of the Pantheon, stole the key to the warehouse, and went there after attacking me.” The group of Circle members – nearly a hundred, surely the full strength of the city and its surrounding villages – grumble and gasp. “After doing so, he went to the warehouse itself, nearly killing Roland to gain entry, and set fire to the building.”

“Is Roland alright?” a person in the audience shouts.

“He’s as good as new, for the same reason I am,” Arisa says, her eyes flicking to you. “Herald Ledren arrived at my home, and healed me in person.”

The crowd bursts into exclamations, questions, yells.

>Let Arisa tell her whole story
>Step in at some point (anything specific to listen for?)
>just leave
>writein

>>35138463
>Let Arisa tell her whole story

You lean back behind the fence and listen. Arisa describes everything: your healing her, the fight in the warehouse, your pursuit of the thief, everything except the fight against Forest in his house. That part hasn’t leaked, thankfully. As she finishes her tale, somebody in the audience stands up and asks the obvious question. “Priestess, I have to ask,” the elf man states. “Why did the Herald come here?”

She hesitates. “I am… Lady Ledren is a friend of mine.”

“A personal friend?” the man asks, taken aback. “Why did you not share this with us?”

Some in the crowd grumble, but most stay quiet. It’s an unsettling gesture. “To be blunt, I was instructed not to,” she says simply. “Herald Ledren insisted on total secrecy for as long as possible, to protect her family.”

“Then what does that mean for us?” the man asks reasonably. “Please, I don’t mean disrespect, truly, but this changes things.”


>Step in
>Arisa needs her own authority. Don’t step in unless asked

>>35139029
>>Arisa needs her own authority. Don’t step in unless asked

>>35139029
>Arisa needs her own authority. Don’t step in unless asked

You’re tempted to get in there, but Arisa needs to handle her own challenges.

The Priestess raises her hand and motions for calm. “What it means is that we are acknowledged, brother, and for now, that is all we need to be,” she says forecefully. “Please trust that the Herald is not going to simply toss us aside.”

Well, yes, you won’t. Asa will. You bite back a frown as Arisa continues. “The Herald has already earned my trust, and saved Roland’s life, twice,” she says. She looks down at the elf man, sternness coloring her words and brow. “Do you understand, Oromer? Let me guide our course.”

He nods at once. “Yes, Priestess.”

Arisa turns her gaze back to the group. “I ask that you all keep yourselves attentive, to the criers and to the news I send you,” she says. “The warehouse repairs are insured, so we will not take a financial hit. Roland?”

The old guard stands up in the crowd. “Priestess?”

“Do you have the list of items that were taken?” she asks.

“I do.” The guard passes the paper up to her, and she takes it with a nod.

“Thank you, Roland,” she says politely, tucking it away. “Now. Does anyone else have business?”


>Wait for the crowd to break up before approaching her
>Signal to her your willingness to speak to the crowd
>Quietly slip off to go shopping

>>35139570
>>Wait for the crowd to break up before approaching her
See how she's doing yadda yadda

For the next hour or so, the group discusses their news and business, and it closes with a prayer. Afterwards, you wait for the group to break up before darting over. She starts to speak, but you position yourself between her and the building before you turn to face her.

“Thank you for allowing me to address the group, Elsa,” she says quietly. “I thought this whole affair would quiet Kendal’s doubts about my leadership.”

“I have no doubts, personally,” you say in the same tone. “I came by to see if you were all right.”

“I’m right as rain,” she says gratefully. “Whatever you did… thank you. Truly.”

“Think nothing of it,” you assure her. “May I read that list?”

“Of course.” She passes you the scrap of paper and you give it a glance. Your eyes narrow as you look it over: a sword, a book, and a map. Curious.


>”What were these items?”
>Page Asa and ask her
>Go inside and look for the other Circle members you’ve met in person
>writein

>>35139901
>"What were these items?"

>>35139901
>>”What were these items?”
>>Page Asa and ask her

“Any idea what these all have in common?” you ask, frowning.

“All I know is that the book is a tome of history from the early elf colonies, after they were more or less forced to start building cities instead of living off the land,” Arisa says. “The blade is a relic from the Crusades. No idea about the map.”

“Hmm.” You tap the Gem and read Asa the list. {Any idea?}

[The blade is an elf relic, I know, but that means nothing historically. By that point, the elves were integrated into the rest of Tarsh,] Asa says after a moment. [The book… I would focus on that and the map. Ask Sir Reed, if you see him, he helped secure the prisoners.]

{Thanks.} You turn to Arisa and shake your head. “Asa has no idea, too.”

“Troubling,” Arisa sighs. She looks back up at you. “May I ask… Elsa, I had to tell the parishoners that the King meant us no ill, but… I want to hear you say it. What has Asa promised the King for our compliance?”


>Tell her about the dissolution promise
>Let Asa explain
>Page her and ask for an update
>writein

>>35140444
>"Let Asa explain."
we are not bearing this bad news

>>35140444
>>Let Asa explain
ohboy

Eager to pass the buck, you thumb the Gem. {Sister, Arisa just asked me outright what you intend to do to the Circle once this is over.}

[Damn it. This is the price of haste.]

{Yeah, you should come and tell her.}

[…Sister.]

{Quickly.}

Asa appears, glaring at you. Arisa starts as your patronness steps out from behind you. “Sorry, sorry,” she says. “Hello, Priestess.”

“…Asa,” Arisa says in a very small voice. “My Lady, I’m… this is a great honor.”

Asa nods her head. “Thank you, Priestess.” She looks at the distant castle. “King Maas has spoken to me and to Elsa at length about the fate of your Circle, you know.”

“Fate?”

Asa sighs. “He was utterly convinced you would conspire against him, for imagined crimes. He allowed Elsa to call on you for assistence only after I promised to… dissolve your chapter after Elsa’s work was done.”

Arisa pales. The greying woman stumbles back a pace as Asa hangs her head. “For what it’s worth, I was stupid to do so,” Asa says quietly. “I am already endeavoring to change his mind.”

You blink and shoot her a startled glance. That wasn’t the case last time you spoke.

“I… I… you needn’t go back on your word,” the old Priestess says gamely, though her voice is shaking as she says it.


(con’t)

“When that vow is given cavalierly, I should,” Asa says contritely. “I apologize, Priestess. Your life’s work should not be discarded because I was desperate for Elsa to have allies.”

“But…”

The demigoddess straightens her Avatar’s back. “The King will understand,” Asa says. “Continue as you would, Priestess.” She rests one gloved hand on Arisa’s shoulder. “Please.”

You watch through your ghostly vision as Asa’s… whatever she has instead of a soul extends an empathic tendril and strokes Arisa’s soul, but it bounces right off. The human woman slowly raises one hand to grasp Asa’s. “Yes, my Lady,” she says after a moment or two. “I… don’t know what to say.”

Asa sighs. “Nor I.” They both turn to you.


>Ask either of them something
>Take your leave
>Do something else with the remaining Circle members
>writein

>>35141050
>Take your leave
Awkwardness averted. Time for gala prep?

>Take your leave
Sorry, I have to get going. The King's pomp and circumstance and all.

>>35141050
>Take your leave
Tell Arisa we're happy to see she's alright after the attack yesterday.

Correct. This was the priority list decided upon last week.


>Check on Arisa
>Gala prep
>Check with Gherta
>Check on Dervich if we have time

“All right, then,” you say. “If that’s done, I apologize, but I need to get ready for this… whatever it is that the King has planned.”

Asa’s lip quirks. “Have fun.”

“Mmm.” You bow out, and pull your hood back up as you walk out onto the streets.

You’re not a party girl. You never have been. You were the barracks wet blanket before you assumed the Sergeants’ role, and that’s a damn shame, because you have more or less no idea what to expect tonight.

You do need some makeup. If nothing else, you need something to cover the scar on your ear and nose. What else do you think you should get?

>A bit of mascara
>Lipstick
>At lest some form of perfume
>Pop in on your mother and ask her (this means you will not have time to do anything else with Gherta or Dervich)
>writein

>>35141751
>A bit of mascara
>Perfume

Okay. Makeup is so not what you do, but if you’re going to rub shoulders with Kings and whatever, you should at least smell good.

You pull your bandana and hood low and make your way to the merchants’ quarter, where you know you can buy some makeup, since you’re pretty sure you bought your wedding goods there. In an hour, you’ve picked out a small boutique with few people in it, and walked in.

The proprietor, a youngish human woman with skin the color of caramel, looks up from her book and smiles as you walk in. “Hello, miss. What can I do for you?”

“I’m attending a party with rather a lot of strangers,” you say vaguely, “and I’m afraid I lack any sort of real makeup. What can you recommend for a fairly formal occasion?”

She nods. “Ah, you’ve come to the right place.” She stands from her stool and turns to face her stocks – the whole store is behind her counter, with only a few chairs for people to sit in the tiny space between the door and the counter. “Anything specific?”

“A mascara of some sort, and a perfume that isn’t too intrusive,” you decide.

“Very well. Hmm. Let’s see… let me get a good look at your skin tone, please,” she says, waving at your hood. “Or I won’t know what I’m working with.”

She’ll see the scars… and the brand.


>No, just show her your hands
>Show her your face

>>35142407
>Show her your face
Ask her to please not make a scene.

You sigh heavily. “Please promise you won’t make a scene, all right?” you ask quietly. You pull back the hood.

Her eyes bug out. “… Sweetheart, what happened to you?” she asks with a gasp. “Oh, dearie, we can work with this,” she says, grabbing your hand and nearly dragging you up to the counter.

You blink. She doesn’t know what you are? “Uh…”

“Now, let’s see… you have a tan, so we’ll go with something that doesn’t fade under shadow,” she says, already lost in her own little world. You wait a moment and shrug to yourself. Well, it’s better than fangirling, you suppose…
[Temporary End of Thread]


I WILL RETURN AS SOON AS POSSIBLE TOMORROW MORNING, PLEASE KEEP THE THREAD ALIVE

>>35142819

Will do.

Just in time!

Well, you look good at least.

You leave the boutique with an armful of makeup, which was expensive, but at least covers your brand. For as long as it can be covered before Mai’te’s power burns it off, anyway. That had given the poor beautician a fright.

You still have tasks to be accomplished. You need to drop in on Gherta, and you want to check on Dervich, but you can theoretically do both at the castle before you go to see the King… so the question becomes: do you want to do anything else before you head there?


>Go see an ally
>Buy something else

>>35148106

Do you never sleep?

>Go see an ally

Which ally?


And yes.

Um.

>>35148106
>Gherta
see the Gherta

To be clear, I pointed out that you can just do that before the party. Do you want to go to the castle, then go home and dress, then go back to the castle?

bump

>>35149347
I have awoken. I don't know what other anon was going for, but let's just see them before the party.

There’s not much left to do you can’t do at the castle, so you make for home, goodies tucked away. On the route, a cold wind picks up, chilling the tips of your ears, and you pick up the pace, hoping you don’t run into more crowds.

Sadly, that isn’t to be. You groan as you round the corner and see a large cluster of people outside your house. You square your shoulders and force yourself to walk closer, and even when the group surges and moves towards you, you just clamp your teeth around your tongue and keep going. In moments, they’ve surrounded you, and you have to stop every few paces to listen to yet another plea to speak with a departed loved one, turn down a proposal, or sign an autograph. Ahead, you see Jerome slip out the front door and hurriedly collect the mail as he takes advantage of your distraction.

Finally, you break through the crowd and rush inside, nearly slamming the door behind you.

“I can’t believe these people!” you exclaim. “Don’t they have jobs or families that need their presence? It’s Friday!”

“It’s crazy, all right,” Jerome says, pawing through the huge bundle of mail. “Wow. Look at all this.”

“Is that all for me?” you ask incredulously, staring at the teetering pile of parcels.

“No, it’s all of our stuff for the last month or so,” Jerome says irritably. “First you got sent to the garrison for forty days, then you were dispatched, then recalled, then we all moved into the castle, then you left town and came back. There’s about ten reroutes on some of this mail. This is everything we were supposed to get since you were mustered.”

You stare at the stack. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” He sighs and starts paging through it. “Postman must have just caught up to all our address changes.”


>Look through the mail
>Get dressed and leave as soon as you can
>writein

>>35150631
>Skim for any important looking letters and open those if they exist, but leave time to meet at least Gherta

“I should see if there’s any vital stuff before I go,” you remark.

“And leave the rest for me?” Jerome asks.

You wince, but he’s not even being sarcastic – he genuinely wants to know. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you assure him.

“Hey, I’ve got nowhere to be tonight,” he says.

You sigh and start sorting the mail. “I just mean that I don’t want to be late to the castle.”

“I know. I like getting mail, anyway,” he chuckles. So he was kidding.

You look through the pile, and though some items are just notices for long-past meetings or whatever, some are personal correspondence – including some from your family. You open them and glance over their contents, but you’re being careful – the conspirators know where you live too.

There’s not much from close friends or relatives, actually. One or two are from neighbors who are reacting with shock to the revelation of both your survival and your divine appointment, while the rest are from distant cousins either asking for money or passing alone condolences to Jerome for your death. Lovely.

After an hour or so, the mail is gone, the paper is burning in the fire, Jerome is stretched out on the couch with a glass of whiskey, and you’re in your uniform, carefully applying make-up.

“Mai’te’s tears, I suck at this,” you grunt, daubing mascara over your face. “Is there even a point in concealing the brand? You can’t hide the Gem…”


>Actually hide the brand and the scars as best you can
>Just hide the scars – the brand shouldn’t be concealed
>Wear the mask so they’re both invisible
>writein

>>35150811
>Just hide the scars – the brand shouldn’t be concealed
It'll burn off anything we put on it anyway.

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>>35150811
>>writein
Just apply makeup normally. If the scars unsettle some of the nobility, big whoop.

Also why isn't Jerome invited as well? Kinda rude to invite someone to a party and not allow them to bring their spouse.

>>35150970
I suppose he could come, but the King didn't specifically invite him. You can ask him if he wants to go, and what he would wear if he wanted to go.

So... do you want to ask him, or what?

>>35151296
Not the guy who suggested it, but sure, sounds like a nice thing to do.

>>35151382
Kinda late to get a suit or whatever. How much time do we have?

It occurs to you that Jerome may want to go with you, even if he wasn’t explicitly invited. You call down the stairs to him. “Hey, Jerome. Would you be interested in coming with me?”

“Not even slightly, thanks,” he says. You can practically hear him shudder. “I couldn’t do that.”

You nod to yourself. It’s not so much that he’s afraid of embarrassing himself, or even you. He’s just afraid of that kind of attention. If he weren’t, that would be a different story. “Okay.”

After you apply the makeup as best you can, you finish fastening the Heraldic uniform on and strap one of your two short swords from your Shadow armor to the belt. It’s not stricktly necessary, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, and it’s not really appropriate for a member of both the military and the nobility to go unarmed to such a function. You can always relinquish it if asked.

Downstairs, you walk in and hold your arms out to your sides. “How do I look?”

Jerome glances up from his food and drink to whistle. “Good. It’s perfect.”

“Great.” You give him a lingering hug and troop downstairs. “Off I go, then. See you tonight.”

In the basement tunnel, you grab a key from the peg and latch the door behind you, walking towards the castle as quick as you can without breaking a sweat. It’s a long walk, but uneventful, and you emerge in the basement of the castle with a while to spare.


First, you make for the Spymistress’ offices. You pass off a salute to the Guard outside, but he’s too busy staring at your tiara and brand to reply, and you walk right past without a word.


(con’t)

Inside, Gherta looks up from her notes and raises an eyebrow. “Ah… your Eminence. By your appearance, may I interpret that you’ve been invited to the Royal soiree?”

“So I gather, though I don’t know what to expect,” you say wearily. “But I actually was hoping I could talk to you.”

“About what?”


>How do I find Moor and ambush him safely with all his power?
>Any leads on Novai or Kotrick?
>Any signs of ancient weapon activation nearby?
>How’s the war going?
>General inquiry (on what topic?)
>writein

>>35151643
>>Any leads on Novai or Kotrick?

“I was hoping if you could tell me where Novai and Kotrick are,” you tell her as you sit.

She nods. “Indeed. Kotrick’s location, I’ve been able to narrow down to one of five buildings in the edge of the noble district, fewer than ten blocks from Mister Keen’s manor house.”

“That close?”

“Indeed.” She lifts a small map. “This is a listing of the holdings of the rest of the Kotrick family. They have been, as you imagine, most forthcoming about their son, since his rebellion is entirely unsanctioned,” she says, her voice as dry as sandpaper. “They say he owns these buildings, and several more that are not in the district Lady Asa indicated. If I were you, Herald, I would ask the Utility Mages’ company if any of these buildings are suddenly drawing vast amounts of power, or no power at all.”

You file that tip away. “Good idea, Duchess. I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Good.” She folds her hands over her paperwork. “May I ask how your Circle friend is faring?”

“Well. How did you know about her?”

She raises one eyebrow.

“Right.” You huff a sigh. “She’ll be fine.”


>Tell her about the stolen weapon and book and map
>Take your leave
>Ask her more questions

>>35151745
>Tell her about the stolen weapon and book and map

>>35151745
>Tell her about the stolen weapon and book and map

“It turns out that Forest, Keen, stole some things from her, too,” you tell the Spymistress. “A Crusades-era elf falchion, a book about the early industrial elves, and a map of unknown locations.”

Gherta leans back in her seat. “I see. Did Sir Reed and Brigadier Cordland not find them?”

“They didn’t know to look,” you explain. “I don’t have the time to go back to Forest’s house, but if any of your people, or Dietrich’s, do go back, could they look for them?”

“Certainly,” Gherta says with a nod. Her ravaged face pulls into a smile. “Anything else I can do for you, your Eminence?”

“Tell me if this bloody mascara is on right,” you grumble. “I’m a soldier, not some tart courtier.”

She shakes her head wryly. “You’re fine.”

“Alright.” You dust your hands off and rise. “Time to go. Thanks for the help, Duchess.”

“Certainly.”


You make one more stop in the barracks before heading to the King’s gathering. You head purposefully through the resting troops and empty bunks until you find your now-empty battalion quarters, and walk through the bunks until you find Dervich.

He’s sitting on his bunk, alone in the huge hall, and reading something. He looks up and starts when he sees you. “Sarge! Wow… that’s a get-up,” he says, staring at your face.

“How have you been?” you ask, dropping into your own bunk across the divider.

He shrugs. “Bored out of my skull. Next time you go after some asshole, bring me, huh? They have no idea what to do with me.”


>Talk about something specific (what?)
>just while away some time
>”I was just saying hi.” (leave)
>writein

>>35152197
>>writein
"What do you mean they have no idea what to do with you?"

>>35152197
I can back >>35152249

“What do you mean, they don’t know what to do with you?” you ask in surprise. “You haven’t been reassigned?”

“No,” he sighs. “Dietrich pulled some string or other to keep me around because they thought I would be going with you to Margent and staying there, or to reassign me, or something. Now I’m stuck without an assignment.”

“That sucks,” you commiserate. “You got a place to stay?”

“Oh yeah, here,” he says. “It’s not great, but it works.”

“Yeah.” You puff out a breath. “Well, hey, if I can help, let me know.”

“You can!” he says. “Just ask Dietrich or whoever to assign me to one of the other Home Guard battalions, something like that. I want to stay in Clen, for now, but I’d do training duty at this point.”

>”I’ll see what I can do.”
>”Maybe you should keep a low profile, though.”
>writein

>>35152643
>”I’ll see what I can do. The people I'm going to be taking down now are far more dangerous than any of the others though.”

>>35152643
Get him assigned to the first Herald Battalion. And by that I mean Elsa. And by Battalion I mean just him. A whole battalion would be a little much.

I'm sorry I keep disappearing. I should be able to run for another few hours, then I'll be done for the week.

“I could have you reassigned to me, as a personal aide or something,” you suggest.

He straightens up on his bed. “You can?”

“Why not? It’s the bloody least they can give me,” you grumble. “And I know I can trust you.”

Dervich eagerly nods. “I’d be…wait,” he says, as suspicion crosses his face all of a sudden. “You mean an administrative aide?”

“Or a squire sort of thing, I guess,” you tell him. “I mean, these last few guys are pretty tough.”

“Well… sure, I’d like that,” he says.

“Good.” You look up at the clock and sigh. “Wish me luck.”


(con’t)

Above, outside the King’s quarters, you pause a passing Shadow and pass him the letter from this morning. “Shadow, if I may, I was given this to pass to the King. Obviously, it should be scanned first.”

“Obviously,” the Shadow says. He accepts the letter. “In the future, don’t even bring it in the building, your Eminence. Leave it in the garrison. We’ll find it.”

“Alright.” You take a deep breath and step into the Royal quarter.

The rooms beyond is a quiet madhouse, by the sheer number of people there. There’s at least thirty people sitting, standing, talking, dancing, generally schmoozing. A crier starts shouting the moment you enter. “Her Eminence, Herald Elsa Ledren of Clen!” Every eye locks on you.

You wince – you were hoping for at least a degree of discretion. Oh well. You start to open your mouth and close it again – better to be seen as aloof than bumbling.

“Ah, Herald,” Captain-General Dietrich says, walking up beside you. The aging General is in his true dress finest – not the usual dress uniform, but the formal robe uniform, the sort of thing people wear to Royal funerals and the signing of documents of surrender, the most formal of all Cenderian uniform variants. “So glad you could make it.” He’s armed, too, like you, and most others – maybe that’s the protocol for wartime? His sword is shimmering, enchanted steel, of course.

“General, hello,” you say politely. “I’m glad I could make it too.”


>Just talk shop until the King arrives
>Try to find somebody you know
>Ask Dietrich something
>writein

>>35153372
>Just talk shop until the King arrives
Mingle with the nobles
Be cool Elsa. Be cool!

Dietrich seems to notice how nervous you are, but surprisingly, he doesn’t break pace. “Have you heard anything from Lady Asa about the criminals, anything we can use?” he asks.

“Er, well, not really, save that Forest – Keen – seems to have stolen some things from the victim of the robbery he perpetrated right before fleeing to his home,” you tell him. “Not sure what their significance was yet.”

“A shame,” he says. “Still, we’re all very impressed by your successes so far. How many foes are we left with now?”

“Three,” you tell him. “Er, do you know when the King will arrive?”

“Any minute,” the Captain-General says. “Are you accompanied?”

“I invited my husband, but he couldn’t make it,” you say evasively.

“Ah, then may I have the first dance?” he asks mildly.


>”I warn you that I have literally never danced.”
>”Sure, to your own peril.”
>”Certainly.”
>”No, thank you. I want to see if I know anybody here.”
>writein

>>35153730

>”I warn you that I have literally never danced.”

“Uh, very well, General, but I warn you that I have literally never danced,” you say carefully. “My wedding dance floor looked like a wagon crash.”

The General chuckles. “I’ll be careful.”

The two of you make your way out to the floor, where a small orchestra – barely twenty people – is blowing some simple dancing music. The General is a fair partner, but your inexperience shows, and after only a few minutes, you maneuver yourself into the center of the dancefloor so that the crowd around the edges aren’t watching.

“Rubbing shoulders with nobles and flag officers isn’t my cup of tea, as you’ve noticed,” you mutter.

He snorts. “Everybody’s got to start sometime.”

>”Yeah, that’s enough.”
>Just endure until somebody else arrives
>Go get some food
>Writein

>>35154015
>Just endure until somebody else arrives

>>35154361
>while Maraven nearly skips over to the buffet
*Mara

>walk over to Maas

You force back your embarrassment and endure the music another few minutes, when all of a sudden the musicians all stand. The crier puffs up his chest again. “His Royal Majesty, King Maas! Her Royal Majesty, Queen Maraven! Young Princess Mara!”

You and Dietrich turn to see the three Royal family members descending from a higher door – up a flight of stairs down into the ballroom – in regal but oddly conservative clothes. Maas is armed – to the fangs, actually, with a formal saber at his hip and a ceremonial dagger at his pant leg, with what looks to your super-sharp eyes like a concealed dagger in his left sleeve. The other two aren’t.

Maraven halts near to the bottom of the second stair. “Countrymen, Cenderians. Prince Alric.” She presents the bundle of fabric to the room, and you realize with a start that somehow, despite his being over a week old, he’s just being displayed now. Why did she wait?

The nobles all bow, and so do you, and the room falls quiet except for little Alric’s burbles. After a moment, Maraven tucks him to her bosom and walks off to speak to some people in the corner, while Mara nearly skips over to the buffet and Maas catches your eye.


>walk over to Maas right away
>Endure more dancing
>Go congratulate Maraven
>quietly make your escape
>writein

>>35154492
>walk over to Maas right away
We'll have to congratulate Maraven too, and then we can escape

You walk over to the King, and wait politely as he snags a few items from a passing server and rests them on a plate. It’s not common for a member of the Royal family to act like a common guest, but this is his son’s party, not his. Maas turns to face you and nods. “Herald. It pleases me that you could make it on such short notice.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you reply. “An invitation from the King is an honor.”

A few of the nobles standing around you notice you at last, and more than few look like they need to switch thewir schmooze targets, but oddly enough, you start to feel the vaguest stirrings of Asa’s power again. Well, now you know it to be Mai’te’s power, but whatever. Maybe it’s because you’re talking now, instead of staying silent.

He inclines his head. “Thank you.” He turns to see his daughter absorbing a pile of sweetmeats from the buffet. “You’d think she was the newborn.”

“Alric is well?” you ask.

“Well, yes,” Maas sighs. “Now. He grew quite ill, the day before I was to present him. Hence the short-notice rescheduling of this assembly.”

“I’m glad to hear that he took well again,” you say, and again, you feel the power infusing your speech. Why can’t talking be this easy for any other activity? There must be some contextual cue you haven’t discovered.


>Discuss something specific
>Move on to the other Royal family members

>>35154755
>Ask how things are going aside from baby illness

“So, besides ill children,” you start.

“What else is new?” he asks drily. “Hmm. The campaign on the coast goes well, but I imagine you don’t want to hear that now, when you’ve a chance to enjoy a reprieve from the fighting. The Artisans’ Guild has a new World Guildmaster, as does the Courtesans’ Guild.”

“Ah. Will there be public ceremonies?” you ask.

“There shall indeed,” Maas replies, snagtging a goblet of wine from a server.

A bit of a hubbub appears over the crowd’s general noise as a few new nobles arrive late. “Mmm. Duty calls,” the King says. “I was hoping I’d have a chance to speak to the Count quickly.” He turens back to you. “Please stay a while, Herald Ledren. I had something I wanted to ask you if we can find the time.”

“Certainly, your Majesty,” you say, bowing back.


The buffet table is a wasteland, since the King hasn’t been yet, and apparently, everybody in the room except his family cares about that. You wander over to where the Queen is standing instead, and cast a fond look at the little boy in her arms. “Your Highness.”

She looks over at you. “Ah, your Eminence,” she says. Bags under her eyes reveal all you need to know about her sleeping schedule of late. Magic heals new mothers’ flesh very quickly, but magic can’t heal the effects of worry. “So glad you could come.”

You nod and move to stand beside her. “Ah, he’s adorable,” you say fondly, as the tiny boy studies the air in front of him. “After whom is he named?”

“Alric is the name of the King’s Father’s oldest brother,” Maraven supplies.

“I see.” The baby shifts a gurgles a moment, and Maraven rocks him a bit. “I won’t stay long, I fear. We both need rest.”

“Then I won’t keep you, your Highness,” you tell her, stepping back.


>Go talk to the kid, Mara
>Go grab food
>Just leave, you’re too busy to be ‘seen’
>Scan the crowd for anything you recognize
>writein

>>35155544
>Scan the crowd for anything you recognize
Ok, l lied. We can't escape.

As much as you’d like to go get some food, or leave outright, you can’t waste this opportunity. You slowly scan the whole room, searching for any familiar faces or things. You see a surprisingly large number of Guild pins – it’s not just nobles, then, there’s merchants and guildmasters here. This is more than a political shindig, then. Interesting.

You also see a lot of un-enchanted weapons – ceremonial ones. No true warrior would waste the precious time and resources you need to enchant a weapon that will never taste blood. You see a few mages, and a Shadow in decorative armor. Over there is Governor Ekrine, Master Culler… and Voyager Kelscik.

In fact, most of the heavy hitters in your band of allies are here. Interesting.


>Talk to one of them
>Just go eat, you’re hungry and the kid already did
>writein

>>35155981
Archive diving has revealed that Culler was one of the people we wanted to talk to that didn't make it onto the priority list. Let's chat him up.

>>35155981
>>Talk to one of them
Haven't talked to our favorite Governor in awhile.

You walk over to where Culler is standing, talking to a few other local power brokers. He catches your eye and nods, but before he can break away from his conversation partner, another familiar face appears between yours. Governor Ekrine is moving between you and Culler – has he even seen you? – and barely waits for Culler to stop talking before he butts in. “Master, what happened down there?” he asks urgently.

“Be calm, Governor, please,” Culler says flatly. “The seccessionists managed to slip past the fifty men I had down there, to cover two thousand miles of road between them. A single company escaped our notice.”

“A company of Gifted troops!” Ekrine says, though his voice is more level now. “They’re loose in my jurisdiction! They’ll get as far as Danhallow before we pick them up again!”

“They’ll be found, Governor,” Culler says firmly. “If not by my men, than by yours.” He turns to you. “Hello, Herald.”

“Hello, gentlemen,” you say politely. “Sorry if I’m interrupting.”
[END OF THREAD]

Sorry to call it quits, but my schedule just changed dramatically. I’ll be back Friday.

>>35156454
Dramatic schedule changes are never good.

>>35156454
thanks for running!

Wow, really? The thread is still here, even after my errands? Fuck it, I'll post the rest of this arc and then call it quite later tonight.

(con’t)

“Not at all, Herald, just discussing some reports from the south,” Ekrine says.

Culler takes it a step further. “The Brothers of mine we dispatched to the south did not notice secessionist forces advancing along an infrequently-used road.”

“Our own fault for hiring scouts who don’t know the terrain,” Ekrine says, neatly backhanding Culler and making the older man’s jaw clench a bit.

“Quite,” Culler shoots back, and the men go back to glaring at each other. You look awkwardly back and forth between them. The acrimony between the military and the generally better-equipped and more experienced private Brotherhood is a source of problems, you knew, and it doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere.


>Ask about the campaign in the south despite what Maas said
>Divert them towards safer ground (what?)
>writein

>>35159062
>>Ask about the campaign in the south despite what Maas said
Whatever gets them off that specific issue in the south.

Maybe they don’t need to be picking fault with each other right now.

“Gentlemen, is there any actual good news in the south?” you ask carefully.

Ekrine sighs. “Oh, to be sure. We’ve been able to reroute the Coastal Patrol back down to the outlets, so we’ve blocked their shipping.” He’s referring to the fact that the Navy detachment that scours the shorelines for pirate nests was able to outrun the autumnal winds and arrive in location to block the Duke’s forces from using the mountain stream outlets to move around. “So if nothing else, our forces will be better fed.”

“Good, good,” you say earnestly. “I’ll be honest: I sort of wish I could be down there, helping, even if I can’t really leave here.”

Culler shakes his head. “I imagine, but I’m glad you’re here.”

Neither man is an elf, so your passive abilities won’t affect them much, but you suspect that they’re both being influenced by your desire to slow down the argument. You quickly push again. “Maybe, when all this is over, I can negotiate a truce down there.”

Both men immediately react. Ekrine winces, while Culler’s face lights up. “I’d love that, your Eminence,” Culler says gratefully. “I’m struck by the possibility that the Duke’s cities may have Brothers in them, deployed against mine.”

“True as that may be, I’d rather the rebellion just die,” Ekrine says bluntly. “Their complaint is greedy, their desire phantasmal.”


>Keep talking to them
>They’re not fighting. Let’s get some food.
>writein

>>35160389
I am so happy I decided to check back in.

>They’re not fighting. Let’s get some food.
Maybe we can say hi to the princess.

At least they’re not fighting now. While the two of them talk politics, you drift over to the buffet, where King Maas is finally eating some damn food, and the rest of the party is on their way over.

You wait in line, fielding some small number of questions, and once you have your food, you drift over to the corner of the room to eat in peace.

Or try, anyway.

“Um.”

A small voice from around your stomach level speaks up. You look down to see a dark elf girl with pretty metallic coils in her hair and a dress that costs more than your battalion’s wargear standing awkwardly next to you. “Yes?”

“Are you… Herald Ledren?” she asks carefully.

“Yes.” You clean your fingers on a napkin. “You must be Princess Mara.”

“I am,” she confirms after a moment. Out of curiosity, you turn on your Gift and Soul-finding abilities, and note with interest that she has a Gift – a potent one… and so does little Alric. Fascinating. They’re both too young for the Gift to manifest in either of them, so they probably don’t even know.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you say, bowing over your plate. She awkwardly does the same, looking from side to side like she’s scared of something.

“Can you, uh… can you really talk to Asa? Lady Asa?” she asks nervously.


>”I can.”
>”Why do you ask?”
>”When it’s important.”
>writein

>>35160832
>"When it's important."

“I sure can, Princess, if it’s important,” you say. In reality, you can bug her over any old damn thing, but the little girl doesn’t need to know that.

She grimaces. “I see.” She looks over to where her mother is carrying her little brother. “If I may, how were you chosen?”

“Chosen?” You pause to balance your answer. “Well, I was attacked by an enemy of the nation, and Asa wanted me to track them down.”

“But… I see. Thank you.” Mara looks up at you. “Is it permanent?”

“It is.”

The Princess looks up at your brand and, interesting, becomes the first person you’ve ever seen except Everett Soutri to be repulsed by it. “I’m learning about Heralds in my lessons,” she explains. “It seems so… cruel, I suppose.”

“Being a Herald is cruel?” you ask in surprise.

“No. The ones in the stories, they’re all so cruel.”

That… doesn’t match your memories at all.

>Ask for some examples
>”Do you think I’m cruel?”
>Page Asa to ask what she’s talking about
>writein

>>35161237
>>Ask for some examples
Shit. She thinks we're evil!

>>35161237
>Ask for some examples
Before we leave, tell her if she has anything to say to Asa we can bring it up along with an important message.

You take a step back – both because you’re genuinely shocked, and because you don’t want to scare her. Then sense reasserts itself; this girl is the first-born daughter of the wealthiest Royal Family in the world, who preside over the best-educated and richest populace in the richest city in the world, capital of the largest country on Tarsh. She’s not ignorant. “I see,” you say, to fill the air. “Can you… provide examples?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No,” you say carefully.

She frowns. It’s not a look that suits her child face. “Uh… well, there was Cal-ghal, the Herald of the Spirelings, who basically started the Collapse by executing prisoners…”

“I mean elf Heralds, like me, specifically,” you tell her.

“Oh.” She thinks. “Um, Airo Silver-taker was a murderous addict… nobody knows what happened to him.”

You shudder. You know EXACTLY what happened to him. “I know about him. He wasn’t cruel, just… stupid. A poor choice of heroes,” you say.

She frowns again, deeper. “Hmph. Well, there was Droma Sky-follower, and he was the only Herald executed by the King he served. Out of all fourteen races, it was an elf.”

Okay, that’s a new one. “I don’t know about him. But, you know, Princess, just because people who lived three thousand years ago were cruel by today’s standards, that doesn’t mean I’m cruel now,” you tell her.

“Dad wouldn’t have invited you to Alric’s party if you were,” Mara says instantly. Sharp girl.

“Well, that’s true,” you say. “Your father is a smart man.”

She squints up at you. “Why did Lord Haret threaten the city?”


She knows enough to know it was Haret, but Maas clearly didn’t really tell her why.

>wat say

>>35161431
>"There are criminals in this city in possession of a very dangerous weapon, capable of killing even a demigod. If that were to happen, it would mean the end of the entire world. Haret thought this city's destruction was worth it to avoid that risk.

>>35161431
>>wat say
"Ask your father."

>>35161718
Let's not give ourselves a reputation as a buck passer here. We already did that once today with Asa and Arisa

Time to stall. “What did your father say when you asked him?” you inquire first.

Mara sighs. “He said there were criminals in the city so dangerous, Haret was going to destroy the city to stop them, before deciding creating a Herald was a better idea.”

You blink, confused. “But… that’s exactly what happened!” you say.

“It is? Haret was willing to kill us all to stop some common filth?” she asks in disgust.

“Well, no, not common filth. Dangerous madmen with horrible weapons that could hurt even Haret himself,” you say carefully. As much as you want to tell this girl the whole story, that could be very bad if her father hasn’t already. “But Haret and Asa and Vier know I can stop them, with your father’s help.” You lean back a bit and set your plate down on a table. “Does that frighten you? I don’t want to frighten you.”

She sighs. “No, I’m just… it’s a bit scary, I guess.”

You wince in sympathy. Here’s a girl in line for Queen, and she’s probably never been challenged in her life, and suddenly she nearly dies because of a tornado and an angry demigod. She had probably never seen an authority higher than her father before. “Well, I happen to know that Asa, Vier, even Haret are all very much hoping I win, and they love the people of this city, and even contemplating that tornado was a hugely scary idea for him.”

Mara looks away. “I hope so,” she says quietly.

It’s an awfully mature thing to say, for a girl of her age.


>(Redirect her) “So, what do you do for fun around here?”
>(Try to assuage her) “I can pass a message along to the Pantheon if you’d like, though I can’t do it too often.”
>(Distract her) “What else do you know about the old Heralds?”
>writein

>>35161936
>(Distract her) “What else do you know about the old Heralds?”
Maybe we can help her out

Time to return to safer ground. “What else do you know about the old Heralds?” you ask.

Mara ponders that. “They tended to be nobles, or become nobles, and they headed the priesthoods,” she says. That’s certainly true. “They tended not to found noble families, because the Gods could pick whomever they wanted to replace them.” Also true. “They also tended to tap the Well pretty often.” Not sure about that.

“You’re paying attention in class, I see,” you tell her.

She nods eagerly, and her fear is gone. “I am. It’s interesting stuff.”

A few more minutes pass, and you’re chatting like old friends, when Maraven walks over. “Mara, dear, let the woman eat dinner,” she chides gently. “So sorry, Herald. She’s been wanting to meet you.”

“Quite all right,” you assure her. “We were just talking about the old Heralds, and what they were like.” You quickly resume munching food as Mara and her mother talk. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Maas tilt his head slightly towards a side door, while looking in your direction.


>Go talk to the King (advance)
>Finish any lingering other tasks
>writein

>>35162408
>>Go talk to the King (advance)
Tally hoe!

>>35162408
>Go talk to the King (advance)

“I have to go, Mara, but I can pass along a message to Asa if you like,” you say.

She hesitates. “I’d… well, I’d like to meet her. Ask her about things.”

“I’m sure she’d like that,” you tell her. “I’ll speak to you again, alright?”

“Alright.” She bows again – no curtsey, since you didn’t offer one – and turns back to her mother.

You set your empty plate down and follow the King, and walk into the room he’s indicated.

It’s not what you had expected. The little room has not a scrap of the grandeur of the ballroiom. It’s a study, a tiny one, with a single fireplace, a small desk, a few chairs, a few books on some dusty shelves, a trophy on the wall – a black wolf – and nothing more.

“My father’s personal retreat,” Maas says over his shoulder. He hated travel, my father. He came here to get away from the world.”

“Cozy, Sire,” you remark. He offers you a shot of brandy you accept. “Thanks.”

“How do you get along with my daughter?” he asks blandly, sipping his own drink.

You chuckle. “Well. She’s intimidated by my power, but we were talking easily after a while.”

“I’m teaching her about Heralds,” the King says. “Well, her tutors and mentor are. It’s suddenly relevant.”

“Quite.”

“How did the meetings with the families go, specifically?” he asks.

You sigh into your tumbler. “Poorly. The first one was profane and crude, and stormed out without accepting a single coin. The second didn’t even show up. The third was bitter as hell-water, but accepted a scholarship for their lad.”

“Hmm.” He sighs. “A pity. I will make the arrangements.”

“Good. Thank you, Sire.”


(con’t)

He sits behind the desk and snaps his fingers, and a spark leaps from them to the fire, lighting up the oil-soaked logs. “Herald, I will be frank with you,” he says over the muffled music from the other room. “I want this conflict with Kotrick and his people accelerated.”

You’re taken aback by his remark. “Accelerated? I’m almost done with them, in less than a month, including a round-trip to Margent! How can I accelerate it more, Sire, without causing another… well, another Soutri?” you ask incredulously.

He shakes his head. “I’ve been doing a bit of research, your Eminence. I have reason to believe that Moor and Kotrick are planning to flee the country together, and do so in less than a week.”

>”Why do you think this?”
>”Why didn’t Gherta know?”
>”When, exactly?”
>”And Novai?”
>writein

>>35162809
>>”Why do you think this?”
>>”When, exactly?”
Who's Novai again?

>>35162809

>”Why do you think this?”
>”Why didn’t Gherta know?”
fuuuuuck

>>35162833
Explorer.

“I spoke to Gherta this afternoon, Sire,” you tell him. “She was trying to figure out which building Kotrick was using as a hideout.”

“Yes, I know. You didn’t see her pass me this?” he asks, waving a piece of paper.

You blink. “She was in the room?”

He grins slightly. “If she put makeup on her scars, would you even recognize her?”

You hesitate. “I… suppose not.”

“I wouldn’t recognize you without your brand, your Eminence. Irremovable markings are perfect camouflage,” he says. “The point is that one of her spies managed to pass along this information, which was salvaged from the ruin of Everett Soutri’s home, and confirmed with a map found in Cordel Keen’s residence. Not the one you were looking for,” he says quickly as you recoil. “It was a map of abandoned mines in the area. They may be trying to escape underground.”

ROLL 1d100+14 FOR PERCEPTION

Rolled 9 + 14 (1d100 + 14)

>>35163048

File: Depths.png (92 KB, 1181x1181)

92 KB PNG

I call for maybe two rolls per thread outside of combat, and they're either critical success or critical failure at least once.

Rolled 8 + 14 (1d100 + 14)

>>35163220
I can still save the day

Rolled 71 + 14 (1d100 + 14)

>>35163048
Jesus christ.

File: xyFywpc.gif (424 KB, 600x338)

424 KB GIF

noooooo

>>35163249
>>35163220
jesus christ
lurkers help pls

Rolled 84 + 14 (1d100 + 14)

>>35163048
5

Rolled 17 + 14 (1d100 + 14)

>>35163048
wheee crit fails!

“How many mines are there within a quick trip from the city, Sire?” you ask.

“Not many,” he says. “We’re on an island, you know.”

“Well, yes.”

“The problem is that just one barge trip up the river, there’s a huge, ancient iron mine, one of the old Dwarf ones we’ve not even finished mapping,” he says in frustration. “If they get in there, we’ll never find them.”


>”What do you intend to do about it?”
>”Can we close the mine entrance?”
>writein

I close the vote after two critfails.

>>35163573
;_;


>”Can we close the mine entrance?”
>"Do you think they have maps?"

>>35163573
>>”Can we close the mine entrance?”

“Could we seal off the mine?” you ask.

Maas grinds his fingers into his eyes and stares into the fire. “We could, but… the cost would be horrible. And we NEED that bloody iron! We lost the mines in the Mountains of Abandonment when Zafford rebelled! Besides, we don’t even know they’re going to go there. And if you manage to kill them first…”

“Right.” You pause for a moment as a thought strikes you. “Is it possible they have dwarven maps? You said it was a dwarf mine…”

Maas shakes his head. “A map of the dwarf parts of the mine, maybe, but we expanded it considerably. They can’t have all of it. Of course, they may have a way around that. I’d wager they’re preparing their forces, getting read to break out of the city.”


>”How many of their employees can they even have left? We called them out in public.”
>”And how do you know the timing, Sire?”
>”And their weapons, do we know what they’ve bought from Novai?”
>writein

>>35163931
>"Are there multiple exits from the mine?"
>”And their weapons, do we know what they’ve bought from Novai?”

You think about the mines you saw in campaign, years ago. “I understand. Are there multiple entrances?”

“And multiple worker barracks,” Maas sighs. “Do they know that? I have to assume so. What’s worse is that it’s half a day’s march from the quarry.”

The prison mine. Damn. “Really?”

“Truly. Between them, they supply most of the city’s iron and stone,” the King says. “Hence my desire for haste.”


>Any comments, or do you want to wrap this up and go home?

>>35164233
This sounds awful. I guess our timetable has been vastly accelerated. Need to get at least one of the two within a week.

>Wrap up and go home.

You set your back with a bit of that old military steel. “Then I’ll see what can be done to expedite their leaving this world, Sire,” you say firmly.

He nods and sits back in his chair. “I knew you’d understand, Herald,” Maas says tiredly. “Thank you. Do let me know if that other family gets in touch.”

“Thank you in turn, Sire. The ones that accepted the offer were the Sarno family. The Klarno family never showed. The Oscars told me to go fuck myself, to borrow their language.”

He shakes his head. “Hmph. That’s a shame.” He rises to his feet. “Still, you’ve done well to do what you have, and you’ve redeemed yourself in my eyes,” he says.

“Shall I take my leave?” you ask.

“If you wish. I wanted all of the city’s power players present to see my son alive, and to have the chance to have the conversations that result from such a gathering,” Maas says slyly. “Help yourself to the food before you go. I always order too much.”

You shake your head ruefully. “Thanks, sire.”


[ACTUAL END OF THREAD]

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Thanks for playing, friends, but I won't be able to run tomorrow. See you all Friday, as we move into the final boss gauntlet!

>>35164889
>this anticipation
Thanks for running!

>>35164843
BOSS GAUNTLET

http://youtu.be/pDbGrpBZ2WM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4FLi1DFYSc

I like shmups, but this was more what I had in mind.

>>35135644