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You maintain your dignity with difficulty, the temptation is there, but so is your pride, “Hannah, Lady Galdynfyrgenbach, I'm fine, I assure you.” You catch her hands before they would reach the collar of your tunic and reveal the spot where the Shadowbinder bit your neck. “I can handle real enemies, one overzealous suitor is no danger to me.”

“Oh. Oh, I...I am sorry. I didn't mean to, um...I'm glad you're alright.” She smiles sheepishly.

“Me too. Although I won't say no to being protected sometimes.” You share a laugh, then add more seriously, “I know why you're here.”

“You do?” She looks just slightly startled.

You nod, “You didn't know me the way the realm knew my father, so you came here to get a sense of me, and by offering your service in pacifying my province hopefully securing my aid in pacifying yours.”

She blushes prettily, “You speak like Urdle, my steward. He's so clever. I think you're right, but it wasn't that complicated. I wanted to see you for myself. Talk to you. If you were a good man, surely you would help me save my people, and if you were a bad man...it would be best not to involve you, wouldn't it?”

You nod, “And am I?”

She smiles, “A good man? So far, yes. Your people drink toasts to your health.” Her smile fades, “Mine...drink toasts hoping I choke on a chicken bone. I've heard them.” Her shoulders slump, “If I hadn't made a promise, I would fain run away. I'm no good at the business of ruling. Whenever I have to speak before people, my head swims and I stammer and the words flow between my fingers and drip down to the floor.” She shakes her head, “...That's what my last tutor said, before she quit. She would get so frustrated that she would hit me. A lot. One day I grabbed her arm. It snapped, and she left.”

[Continue]

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“I would have broken more than her arm.” You remark. “What promise did you make?”

She isn't smiling anymore at all. She hugs herself as if she was cold, her eyes fixed on some point very far away, “To Papa. Mama was already gone, and he...there was so much red, and I couldn't put the worms back into his belly, and my face was all in pieces.” She reaches up and slowly touches her scarred face, shuddering as if the effort hurt her.

“Hannah...” You start to tell her she doesn't have to finish what she's saying, but she speaks louder and overrides you.

“Papa said 'Live. Survive. Protect them. Promise me.' When I did...he smiled. He patted my head, s-said I was good, and then he wasn't there anymore.” Suddenly, her eyes focus on yours again, and she hurriedly looks away, “I'm sorry, prattling like a child.”

“No, it's alright. I lost my parents too. Mother, she...was frail. Giving birth to me nearly killed her, and one day...one day just like any other, she just...in the middle of a conversation with father...one moment she was laughing, then she clutched her head and she was gone.” You remember that day. You remember every detail of it. You, Cailm, Albeda, and even father all sobbing. Few people outside the province can imagine Arnveis the Black crying.

Legends, in their own way, are a layer of armor, of memes and rumors, wrapped around real people, washing away the human side of them from the public perception. You wonder whether the Ragged Elder, Brother Grey, had a human side, once, and just became lost in his own legend. Not that it matters. Your plans involve shearing the Night Hunters away from Albeda with or without Brother Grey still leading them. Speaking of legends...

“That sword, it's magical, isn't it?” You don't need to touch it and inspect it with your arcane senses to know that. Some magical items are subtle, like Albeda's bear sculpture. This, though? It radiates portent.

Once again she smiles, “It's a funny shape for a sword, isn't it? They call it Wayward Daughter. I'm sure there's some reason, but I'm not much good at history. It's very old, though, and the blade isn't steel, like a regular sword. It used to just be plain metal, Urdle says, but the first time I touched it it started to glow. I never feel cold when it's with me, and...oh, let me show you. Watch this.” She unsheathes it, just a few inches, and holds it out to you, “Touch it, go on. Just the flat, NOT the edge. Slowly, gently, as slow as you can.” She gives you a big, happy smile.

>[Poke the dangerous magic sword, risking your health to make Hannah happy]
>[Do not poke the dangerous magic sword]

>>4564114
>[Poke the dangerous magic sword, risking your health to make Hannah happy]

The obvious choice.

>>4564114
>[Poke the dangerous magic sword, risking your health to make Hannah happy]
If our magical thorn wall won't hurt us, surely the cursed family's sword won't either right?

>>4564114
>[Poke the dangerous magic sword, risking your health to make Hannah happy]
It's only a sword.
famous last words

>>4564114
>[Do not poke the dangerous magic sword]
A little common sense goes a long way.

>>4564122
That was OUR family's thorn wall. This is someone else's.

>>4564141
The way I see it is this.

Hannah happy, Sword happy.

Hannah sad, Sword mad. The Sword hungers.

Ya feel me?

>>4564114
>>[Poke the dangerous magic sword, risking your health to make Hannah happy]

what could go wrong???

>>4564114
>[Do not poke the dangerous magic sword]

>>4564114
>[Poke the dangerous magic sword, risking your health to make Hannah happy]
TOUCH THE SWORD DO IT NOW.

>>4564182
Touch the ow, do it now!

>>4564114
>[Poke the dangerous magic sword, risking your health to make Hannah happy]

>>> I couldn't put the worms back into his belly
Oh dear, Hannah doesn't really know how basic human anatomy works, I guess that's not super uncommon or something in this world, but I guess she's not the most studious of Nobles eh?

>>4564225

Euphemism for guts, but she...look. She's very, very good at Body skills, has high Coordination and a MD in Weapon: Sword. She has a lot of Advantages representing her demidivine blood. Knowledge, Charm, and Command though? Not so good.

>>4564245
Oh I got it
Asking her to give a speach about the intricacies of the human body is akin to asking Jacob to run a 15km Marathon in full plate.
Both of them wish they were dead by the end.

>>4564114
>[Poke the dangerous magic sword, risking your health to make Hannah happy]

WHAT COULD GO WRONG?

By the way, this show trial you're having, do you plan to follow the normal rules for a trial by the headmen or override them for the result you want?

>>4564308
Haven't we made it clear to everyone that the only verdict is death and the sentence is being crucified by the wall?

>>4564114
Ask Hannah how she managed after the death of her parents. She sounds like she's either not all there mentally or weren't educated beyond age 11.

>>4564308
That does beg the question, what's the 'Normal Rules'? Are the headsmen there to pronounce guilty/innocent, and the lord sets the sentence? Or is this more of a 'everyone votes' thing?

>>4564308
unlike the US votes i actually want to rigged this trial

>>4564308

We answer to no man, but God.

The Verdict is death and woe to any man who defies our will.

Rise up in defence of Vartyne, fellow swamp dwellers!

>>4564114

>[Poke the dangerous magic sword, risking your health to make Hannah happy]

Curiousity over magical artifacts will likely overwhelm common sense in this matter. After all, we did touch the castle walls. Some things you have to do to figure out what happens.

>>4564308

Given that three of the headmen (Ourselves representing Briarfast, Darby of Huskerly, and Nuncle of Grand Crag) out of the 5 that are there are ours, it's pretty much a forgone conclusion that she's going to the wall. Even if Malin of Hookslaw and Skurl of Soursough decide to spare her, with no representatives from Weeptree or Dampmeade to sway it, it's either a tie with us as the tie-breaker, or a 3-2 in favour of the wall. Make it fair, and if Weeptree (which is a ghost-town) or Dampmeade send someone, why, it'll be a 3-3 tie, with ourselves having more weight as the lord of the land. A fair trial, no?

>>4564245

Hannah is a cute, even if she can't into intrigue or command.

>>4564308
RIG THE ELECTION! START THE COUNT!

>>4564322

Normally in this kind of trial the headsmen would vote on guilt or innocence. In this case, whether she committed treason. Then the Absolute carries out the sentence. Trial by headmen is commonly used when the case affects the Absol and it wouldn't look good to judge it yourself.

>>4564308
I'm torn
Denying the will of our people looks bad (especially in the midst of a succession spat)
But this also shows us how loyal our headsmen are to us.
Jove have mercy on the souls of the unloyal because they might find we have little these days.
But who knows maybe Char has max Charm and speach and can worm her way out of getting the wall... Or Her dad from the big City shows up to bail her stupid inter-provincial incident causing ass, out of the fire.

>>4564319

There's no public schooling in Vartyne.

>>4564308
Normal rules you savages, she's likely to die either way so what's the point in pointless political corruption

>>4564308
It's not really a show trial if the proceeding aren't just for show, is it? Her guilt has already been determined, this is simply an affirmation of that.

>>4564308
Alright, normal rules with that in mind.

>>4564344
That sounds alright, I'm still extremely paranoid about last minute tricks though.

>>4564340
+1

>>4564350
Well I say we try to teach her as best as we can, even if we don’t decide to marry her.

>>4564114 #
>>[Poke the dangerous magic sword, risking your health to make Hannah happy]

>>4564308
Normal trial please, not that I'd expect her to get off either way.

>>4564444
Surely we cam tutor her in the basics of military small squad tactics to help her lead a small squad of elite troops better.
And maybe the basics of human anatomy, just she knows the names of the really squishy bits and for easier killing, although I get the distinct feeling she needs absolutely no help in the field on killing things, and most certainly she can teach us many things about that art. Perhaps not the names of the parts of the night body to hit, but at least the general area to slash.

>>4564457
>cam
Can*
Hello typos my old friend

>>4564463
what's a night body?

>>4564465
I don't know anon...
An extra word my phone snuck into my post that I didn't notice.

>>4564469
Ah mobile posting, how you sabotage us all.

>>4564350
It would be reasonable to assume that a duchess would get a private education, no? I want to know why this lady who has presumably had access to competent tutors and statesmen all her life thinks that entrails are worms, and the one conclusion i come to is that she was either mentally stunted at birth, or made so by whoever gave her those scars

>>4564457
Why should we use up our own precious time for that? There are plenty of capable scholars in our castle, and we have better things to do. Are you trying to seduce the giant? Why would you want our bloodline to be cursed by a primordial giant?

>>4564344

Thanks autocorrect.

>>4564513
Well she was saying her Tutor would get so angry with her that she'd hit her until Hannah grabbed her arm one day in self defense and accidentally broke it and then her tutor left.
And presumably she's been to busy having to deal with constant death threats and terrorist trying to usurp her to ever replace her tutor.

>>4564520
Ah man and here I thought that we got to appoint some sort of Acting Justice and their title was the Absolute, and I was *feeling* it.

>>4564520
We are Jakob the Absolute, Final Arbiter of the Swamp.
>>4564523
Gimme dat nickname!

>>4564513

She doesn't think entrails are worms. It was a euphemism regarding a traumatic childhood event that left her maimed and an orphan.

>>4564520

I mean, in the future, after the not!French Revolution that may just be the honorary title for judges in the Absol Swamps.

>All rise for the arrival of the Absolute, His Honour Zachariah of Huskerly.

>>4564534

Pick a better revolution. That one sucked.

>>4564669
the hippy revolution then

>>4564669
Russian revolution because it gave us commies

>>4564308
>follow the normal rules for a trial by the headmen

Legitimacy is on our side, I'd rather us not run ours now.

>>4564695
But the French gave us proto-commies.

I'm prefer the American Revolution, the only one you can say that actually accomplished it's goals, and didn't descend into tyranny.

>>4564308
Fair trial.

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>>4564695

>>4564767

Does the Glorious Revolution count?

I am voting to have Char given a fair trial, for multiple reasons.

1: I don't think that Char is going to be able to weasel out of a guilty verdict.

2: This allows potentially rebellious Headpeople to out themselves so we can keep a better eye on them.

3: A side not, I'd rather reserve the thorns for Oath. The other members of her coven are probably worthy of death, but the only true traitor there is Oath, and maybe the monster maker (I forget her title). Gray seems to be strong enough that if he had really wanted us dead we would be so it seems like he's testing us, not to mention the fact that he's already dropping out of the conflict, honestly he doesn't need an execution more of a pardon.

Char's school of magic has been discriminated against for quite some time. It's regrettable that we've been pushed to this point where the strongest of her school is engaged in open rebellion so perhaps we need to do something about the discrimination fire dancers have been getting.

Gloam seems to have gone off the deep end after loosing so much of his family. Given that he's been tampering with taboos like true resurrection, it feels less like he SHOULD die and more like he might need to die for the safety of the swamp. Maybe talk to Grandma, see if there's something we can do to magically neuter him so he's not a danger to everyone around him?

Finally we know next to nothing about the monster maker, so I'm not certain about what should happen with her. I'm leaning towards the most humane execution that would actually stick, but I don't have enough information to judge.

>>4564878
The Fleshsculpter is Shell, and I think your making a lotta leaps in logic about Grey, as we don't really know about his situation and motives, beside getting lost in his own legend, as Jakob thought. The Pack we've met seems like nice folk just swept into this mess though.

You make interesting points on Char's magic school, but we still don't have the full picture there, so I'll reserve judgment until we get more info.

We don't know if Goalm dabbled with true resurrections yet, as he may have been busy with other things. He may be able to still see reason, so we at least give him the chance. Also, bright light or fire will help with the neutering, but I'm not sure we can take the shadow spirits out of his body without killing him. We can deny him the resources he needs to make his spells though.

Don't have enough information on Shell, so I'll reserve judgement there until we learn more.

>>4564896
>>4564878

I can tell you this much about the Flame Dancers. Don't take how they're treated in the swamp with how they're treated down south. Nobles will pretty much never willingly attune to the school, so you know she's probably a commoner, and she's also clearly from somewhere like Escanto and not some kind of oppressed swamp minority. She's very, very foreign. Nothing happening HERE pushed her to this. She's also young, whether or not she's strong, she's far from being an experienced legendary terror like Brother Grey or a polymath groomed to succeed one of the most influential of her kind like Brother Gloam.

>>4564911
It really does make you wonder why Albeda originally made a coven with the girl in the first place. I can understand Grey, Gloam, and even Shell to an extent, but why Char?

Eh, I'm sure it'll come out in the trail eventually.

>>4564911

To expand on this. A contest between mages is often about setting up the ideal circumstances for an engagement rather than just clashing directly. Char's school is actually very good at fighting mobs of melee enemies, especially if she'd had the sense to cast a particular spell and then just dodge while it did the fighting for her, but fighting a flying and completely buffed Jakob forced her into a position where all she could use was spamming Immolate (her firebolt spell), which put her on even footing with Jakob, and gave him an edge because she had to keep rolling Dance. Someone can be a ridiculously powerful sorcerer who knows every spell from their school of choice and get destroyed because they walked into the wrong circumstances (for example, being Jakob unbuffed and getting into grapple range with someone who has Coordination 3, Weapon: Grapple 3 even if she's awkwardly split between being a fighter and being a Shadowbinder). Jakob has strong defenses against mundane weapons, and eventually he'll have strong defenses against magic if you read dad's notes on fighting sorcerers, but he functions best with preptime (and a good bonfire piled with green wood for a nice big pillar of smoke) while some casters aren't nearly as reliant on it.

>>4564920
...come out in trial* eventually...

>>4564921
Well, it only make sense to read dad's book now before we get thrown into combat against other sorcerers in our campaign, right lads?

>>4564114
>>[Poke the dangerous magic sword, risking your health to make Hannah happy]
>>4564308
our whole platform is legitimacy so I don't think very publicly breaking or bending the rules is wise

>>4564920
>I'm sure it'll come out in the trail eventually
yes, i'm sure that she will come out during the trial
if i'm not forgetting things her motivation so far has just been "I want to be helpful to Albeda" or some more nuanced thing thereabouts

>>4564911
Yes
>>4564921
>>4564911
I mean in that case, she's not so much a traitor as a foreign mercenary being paid by Albeda in headpats. No reason she shouldn't be executed for an attempted assassination, but also no reason to give her to the thorns. Also no reason not to work on relations with the Fire Dancers.

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You look from her happy smile, to the faintly luminescent blade, back to her happy smile. This is a bad idea. Clearly, something is going to happen. Clearly, she is also fairly ignorant of how magic works. Even moreso, one of the few things you know about Wayward Daughter, this sword, is the rumor that it kills with a touch. Still, you're just touching the flat, and she clearly knows her weapon better than you, and her smile is cute. Your choice is clear. Although not devoid of trepidation, you reach out with your finger as slowly as you can. By rights you should feel a bead of sweat trickling down your forehead, but it's not that warm and you're made of sterner stuff.

Your fingertip, just the very tip of it, makes contact, and for just a moment you feel the icy sensation of metal against your skin. Then, almost before it registers, a violent impact throws you back, nearly knocking over your chair. You let out a startled yelp, and Hannah hurriedly sheaths her sword.

“I'm fine.” You reassure her.

She gives you a wan smile, “Wayward Daughter's every blow is like being struck by an avalanche. I won't be useless to you, I promise, even if I'm just someone to stand behind.” She looks determined.

“I'd never call you useless, Hannah.” You inform her, and her smile becomes far more lively.

“I should go. Um. It's late, and I'm sleepy, and people might talk. The one thing I would never want to be is a burden to you. Well, there are other things I wouldn't want to be, but a burden is a big one. Besides, you need to sleep too! If you stay up all night, you'll get wrinkles under your eyes.” She gets up with a warm smile, leans down, and as if on impulse gives you a big hug before practically skipping out of your room, hugging her sheathed sword against her chest with a huge smile.

Sleep comes easily that night, and in the morning you wake up with a sense of purpose. Before you looms the trial, and after that...the campaign. Before, you were a victim, dodging the assassination attempts of a more experienced mage. Now, you are a lord, crushing rebels beneath your sabatons.

>>4565166
Maybe having mage-children that are 8 feet tall is worth cursing your entire bloodline? I'm wavering in my previous resolution bros (not because she's cute, dudes. I promise!)

Simple solution, harem route. Become emperor

>>4565219
Clearly, the blood curse is a ryddish psyop intended to destabilize the province, allowing the filthy ryds to take control of the ice market.
>>4565297
foolishness

>>4565297

Such degeneracy has no place in the Absol.

>>4565297
that's as likely as the celibate route
on that note...
Celibate route: Disregard wenches, become an immortal god-emperor

>>4565308
Quit Gloamposting.
We will have a traditional, fruitful marriage and gracefully pass from the world with pride in our accomplishments, and faith in our heir.

>>4565312
>Not developing some kind of Mad Bloodline magic that allows our heir to absorb our magics and knowledge into an ever accumulating mass consciousness of Absol Lords to aid and guide our future descendants.
Anon plz

>>4565297

What, are you too good for just one wife? Maybe you should head south to Galdea, they seem more like your type of people.

>>4564878

>reserving the thorns for Oath.

We already covered that the Thorns were saved for the most rephrensible crimes directly against the Absol, the swamp, or the well-being of the swampfolk. I'm pretty sure abetting a succession crisis, plotting the death of the ruling Absol, and risking sending the province into the throes of a civil war counts. Char may not have initially came up with the ideas, true, but she was ride-or-die to see Albeda through the crisis, came up with the assassination plan itself, arrived in person to immolate anyone who opposed it, and took up arms in single combat against the Absol. She's not a waif going along with the flow, or a Night Hunter following the orders of the leader on pain of brutal murder. She gleefully offered herself to Albeda giddedy so that she can lash out at what she considered a weak male noble ruler who is what she despises. For that, the wall awaits Sister Char. The other's fates might just be drowned instead depending on what we find, but her's is clear.

>>4565323
It's also about making an example out of unrepentant rebels.

>>4565297
found a rebel scum, let the wall take him

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Flanked by a double column of soldiers in masked helms, Lord Absol descends from his keep. People crowd the balconies and porches of the castle town, their children in their arms and whispers on their breath, eager to see how their ruler metes out justice.

Clad in full plate harness, accentuated by the armor of smoke that adds unearthly gravitas to his image and the cape billowing behind him, a cape pinned with a brooch in the shape of the Absol eye, Lord Jakob is an imposing figure as he sweeps through the town. Behind him, in their ceremonial hooded robes of black and wooden ritual masks, walk the headmen. His visor is down, the eye adorning it serving him as his mask.

The hunchbacked steward of Castle Briarfast, Harvin, his twisted form visible even in his robes, wears a green mask whose features (aside from the slitted eye and mouth holes) are all drawn in spiny thorns.

The Stormtongue archmage, Arad of Grand Crag, wears a ferociously ornate mask carved in the visage of a golden eagle with its beak open to issue judgment, its gaze surpassingly fierce. His long beard hangs down from beneath it.

Pudgy Darby of Huskerly wears a tall white mask of soft-edged rectangular shape, virtually unadorned save again for the eye and mouth holes, resembling nothing so much as a grain of fresh rice.

Apple-cheeked Malin of Hookslaw wears a rather mischievous blue mask whose mouth and nose together form the shape of an anchor, and whose eyebrows are fishhooks.

Skinny Skurl of Soursough wears a yellow mask whose eyes are whirlpools, whose eyebrows are puffs of cloud, and whose mouth has the downward curl of a ray's mouth.

Behind them are the prisoners.

[Continue]

Oh yes I've been waiting for this all day

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The gates are opened, and beyond lies the swamp, and the rice paddies...and the camp of the loyalist Absol army. Columns of smokemass have been raised, and atop them, sheets of smokemass. Although the castle town has barracks for soldiers beyond the usual garrison, barracks that stand empty in peacetime, with the banners called to war troops have poured in from all over the province, and thus additional space was needed. Some of these smoke platforms are crowded with tents, and cookfires, and the usual accouterments of a military camp, but others are devoid of anything save for rank upon rank of men at arms and sorcerers. Overhead, a patrol of Stormtongues fly in a v-shaped squad, circling the area.

Ahead lie two platforms. One just above ground level, the other standing elevated just above it and behind it, where seats have been placed. Lord Absol ascends these first, followed by the headmen, each taking their seat on a folding stool awaiting them on the upper level. The platforms are lined with braziers, and the smell of sweet incense fills the air.

The headmen take their places, but none of them sits until their master does. Behind your helmet, you let out a slow exhale of breath. “Twull of the Pack, student of Rask Shieldhand. You and your students have attempted to usurp your rightful lord. Do you deny this?”

Twull, unbound, steps forward and kneels, “I do not, my Lord Absol. My life is in your hands.”

Sister Char gives him a look of contempt.

“Whether I agree with it or not, you followed the law of the Pack. Your superiors chose a side for your community, and as neither myself nor Albeda had challenged you and won, as my father had, and neither of us was of the Pack, you were obligated to follow their lead and side with her.” You reason, just as you had with him in the dungeon.

He nods, “Just so, my lord. Just so.” His voice, as always, is even and mild.

[Continue]

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“Is that still the case?” The best questions, in a trial, are the ones you already know the answer to.

“Why no, my lord. For you are of the Pack, and you have challenged and beaten us. We give you our throats and our bellies. Should you give us your teeth, our blood will water your wall. Should you give us your mercy, we will follow you as tradition dictates. Such is our way.”

Sister Char's eyes go very wide, she had likely not known Twull had taught you the spell known as Whiff of the Blood. With it, you are technically a member of the Pack, outranking those who have surrendered to you, and of uncertain status to those above you (namely Rask Shieldhand, the Three White Wolves, and the Ragged Elder himself). If you understand it right, most normal members of the Pack had to swear fealty to these superiors to learn the spells. You did not.

“You will swear blood oaths, vowing never to take up arms or bare your fangs at me again on pain of death and a curse upon your souls. You will serve in my armies, though as I understand it, it is ill done to demand Pack fight Pack outside of a challenge bout.”

>[I shall respect this tradition]
>[I shall not respect this tradition]

So, Whiff of the Blood is an Intensity 1 Night Hunter spell. It takes two rounds of preptime to cast, and then for Height in minutes it gives you a MD to all Scrutinize rolls. It does not require Attunement. It's actually fairly useful, although to cast it you have to have the moon in the sky, or a vial of liquid moonlight handy. Because of how spells cost, though, I had to pick another one for you...so I selected Spark, from the Wings of Words school. It does just what you'd expect. Makes a little electric spark. It doesn't explicitly SAY it can start fires, but I figure if you get at least a decent set an electric spark is absolutely going to light, say, your censer when you need it to. It also deals a point of Shock damage when you poke someone with this spell. Also Intensity 1, no Attunement required.

>>4566618
>[I shall respect this tradition]

>>4566618

>[I shall respect this tradition]

We're not quite in the position where we can run roughshod over our people's traditions. No point in sowing more division right now, we've got bigger fish to fry. Might potentially have to challenge the Ragged Elder or one of the Lieutenants though in the future if they try and say that since they outrank us, we'll have to oby Albeda. Doubtful, but stranger things have happened, and if that's the case, we'll need to do it anyways to bring them under heel regardless.

>>4566622

They would have to challenge you to force that. Normally, a Whelp in the Pack would have to swear an oath so that the Ragged Elder (who at one point personally slew or beat every Night Hunter master who did not acknowledge him as their superior) did not have to PERSONALLY come fight them, but as an outsider with special circumstances you never swore that oath. So if the Pack members above you want to tell you what to do, they have to fight you for it.

>>4566620

Neat! It's kind of babby spells, but they'll be useful for utility at the least. We still have a couple bottles of liquid moonlight that we confiscated from Braidbeard when he was in our dungeons iirc, and it's helpful knowing a spell that hurts that doesn't need Attunement, smoke, or the freedom of hands and mouth to sculpt the smoke even if it's just 1 Shock. At least it's a decent hold-out for if when we get grappled again.

>>4566622
They might, but I doubt it. They may outrank us, but we did not learn from them, and I doubt they want to push that issue with an Absol actually in the Pack rather than the Absol outside it.

>>4566618
>[I shall respect this tradition]
hope we get strong/lucky enough that when one of the higher ups comes a knockin, we don't get beaten within an inch of our life

>>4566618
>[I shall respect this tradition]
This is our goal, officially.

Also yay for picking up a 1 damage ping spell that doesn't need external components.

>>4566618
>>[I shall respect this tradition]

>>4566618
>[I shall respect this tradition]

time for some good old soviet trials

>>4566618

>[I shall respect this tradition]

>Spark
Hahahahahahahahahaha
Cailm is in for a whole new world of being tazed for comedic effect

>>4566637

>whole new world of being tazed

Since we don't need to be Attuned to use Spark, it's even worse because there's no warning of 3 words or static crackling before it comes now. Truly, we are blessed this fine day.

>>4566641
Plus we don't run the risk of accidentally tazing him TOO hard now

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“I shall respect this tradition. Guards, strike off their bonds.” Soldiers step forward, and undo the ropes tying the hands of the Night Hunters, “By my office, I would free and pardon you. Headmen, what say you?”

A chorus of ayes greets you, and you nod, “So it is done. Twull, those of your followers who perished fighting my forces have been given the proper rites, and their bodies returned home. They, too, are pardoned. They died as people of the Swamp, as my people, and I mourn their loss. It is a waste that was not their fault, and their loss shall be weighed as one of the sins this tribunal is to judge. For this, and for your crimes of attempted assassination, murder of swampfolk, and treason...what have you to say in your defense, Sister Char?” You turn your visored gaze to the pyromancer as Twull and his students bow to you and depart the platform, formally accepting the return of their weapons. Just as you and Twull rehearsed, there is a place up front in the ranks of your soldiery just the perfect size for him and his students to stand and join the ranks. Symbolism matters.

Sister Char has not been permitted enough freedom to walk on her own. Her legs have been bound, tied together from thigh to ankle, and she has been strapped into a chair with wheels attached to either side, such as one might find on a wagon. Balanced with weights, and wheeled forward by a guard, one could easily mistake her for an invalid, were it not for the constant, seemingly thoughtless movements of her legs rubbing together, as if constantly testing her restraints. Her eyes meet yours, and there is a flash of something in them deeply unpleasant, “My thanks.” Her voice is acid, “For your kind permission to speak in my own defense. I rather expected I wouldn't be permitted to.”

“These are my lands, and we abide by Vartynen justice. Were I your mistress, I doubt you would be permitted.” Truthfully you had been tempted to make this trial a true farce and remove any chance of it turning out in any way where Char does not end up on the wall or possibly IF you're feeling particularly merciful, drowned in the bogs.

“Vartynen justice?” She laughs, “Oh, what a farce! You, boy, you speak of treason? No, I will not deny I plotted to kill you, and that I plotted to install the better candidate on your little chair in your little castle...but I am no traitor. Treason is when one plots against one's rightful ruler, and you are not that. Nor are you fit to lead these people.”

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“What small animal am I going to be compared to today?” You let out a sigh of disgust, “I've heard this before. If that's all, I am more than happy for you to summarize it.” The boredom in your voice isn't entirely feigned. Albeda and her people can call you boy and throw their weight around when they actually manage to accomplish something other than losing to you.

“Not this, you haven't. I am entitled to speak my piece, and be remembered even after I die by your hand. Fear not, I will explain to you precisely why you are a traitor, not Sister Oath, not me. A traitor to your father. A traitor to your people. A traitor to everyone who relies on you, selling their lives so that you can keep your castle and your chair.” She draws herself up to as much of her full height as she can in her chair, and she begins to speak. No, rather, she begins to orate. Her posture is excellent, her voice polished. You've heard better, but you've also heart a lot worse.

“I was born in a small village, in Escanto. My mother named me Naiada. When I was eleven, the Aunts and Uncles came to inspect the children of the village, see them at play, and choose the most graceful to take on as apprentices. It is a hard choice, for some parents, to lose the prospect of grandchildren...but my family was poor and had other children. Losing a mouth to feed was a relief itself, and the Aunts and Uncles offered gold for the children they took to train. I studied under an Aunt whose name I shall not sully by repeating in this company, and quickly became the most incandescent of her pupils. At seventeen, I was hired out to repay the investment she had made in buying me from my parents, as is tradition. I was presented to Lord Aester Durvall, a noble with an estate on the shores of the Undyne peninsula, and instructed that I was to serve as bodyguard to his two children.” Her tone becomes faintly condescending, “The custom may be foreign to you here, but down south it is common. A willowy Flame Dancer girl will not bear embarrassing fruit should a noble boy lay hands upon her, and is far more decorative and subtle as a guard than some sellsword who might be tempted to plant equally embarrassing seeds in a noble girl.”

“No, up here we have our own sorcerers, thank you.” You remark, propping your chin on your fist.

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“How could I have missed them? Lord Aester had a son, Eurot, who was...fifteen, I believe? Perhaps fourteen, I never quite cared so much. He was a typical boy, brash, loud, obsessed with swords and proving his manhood to all the other dull little boys he placed with. The girl, though, she was special. Alia. She was thirteen when I first met her. Perfectly well mannered, a little lady, with all of the grace and charm her brother and father lacked. Perhaps I fell in love with her then. Or perhaps, time has simply faded the outline of my memories and suffused them with rose.” She closes her eyes, pain on her face. “We became friends instantly. Unconditionally. Every secret, we shared. Every worry, expressed. Every hurt we faced, together. When her brother staged a mock trial and a hanging for her favorite doll, I rescued it and gave him a taste of the belt to boot. When she skinned her knee, I was there with a poultice. When I grew homesick for the desert, she was there to comfort me with those soft, gentle eyes. The years rolled by, as years are wont to do, and one day there came my Alia's sixteenth birthday.”

She sighs, a bittersweet sound, “The day she became a woman. Her father didn't even give her the chance to breathe, at her birthday dinner he was already discussing marriage prospects, and if he had been a less greedy man he likely would have slapped her into a wedding dress there and then before we finished the banquet. She sat there, looking so frightened, a little bird feeling the cage restrain her wings for the first time, and my heart ached for her. That evening, with her father half-insensate from drink and her brother tangled with a serving girl...it's funny how little that, by comparison, seems to hinder one's marriage prospects while a girl is expected to remain pure...she sought me out and bade me join her in the gardens. Lord Aester spent no time there, they existed purely to exist, and to be beautiful, and to be remarked upon by guests from a distance. Much like me. The garden had become our place. Our sanctuary. We walked together, and for a time it was in silence. Then she told me she didn't know how she could be a bride, she didn't love any of the men her father had spoken of, I was the only person outside her family who had a place in her heart. Then she told me, her voice breaking, that she didn't even know how to kiss someone. Somehow, I...there by a crystal stream thick with lilies...I showed her. I kissed her, and knew I had found someone worth dying for. If only I had had the chance. For years, we were lovers in secret. I had always known men were crude, clumsy, and scarce differentiated one from another, while every woman is unique in her mystery and beauty. My attraction held no surprise for me, but to see the wonder in her eyes as she awakened to how a woman could make her feel...ah! It was paradise!”

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You hear someone whistle from the crowd and know immediately it was Cailm. Immediately. He's supposed to be out with the sentries, having a drink and avoiding the formal event as a favor to him, why is he making his way towards you?

“The first suitor Lord Aester allowed to stay at his home and court terrified me. I was so frightened of losing her. He was a bold man, but with grabby hands. I forced myself to smile at him when no one was looking, to show more thigh than was proper even for a Flame Dancer, and when he finally laid hands on me in a darkened corner I screamed rape so loud the gods heard it. Even among nobles, there is some sense of propriety. Less for my honor than Alia's, I think. Eurot, young man of the house that he was, had the unlucky paramour driven out with a horsewhip before Lord Aester could suggest otherwise. The rest were easier. By the end, I was confident enough to be overly protective of my Alia in public, undercutting and demeaning the young men who came to compete with me to their very faces. I walked with her as a husband might with his wife, straight-backed and proud, basking in her smiles and letting her lean against my side. I emasculated every lordling who dared look at her and glowed with pride, and every night I stole into Alia's room and made love to her with all my heart.” The joy, the pride suddenly drains from his voice, “Then one day, Lord Aester landed the biggest fish of all. A man who owned more land than any noble of Old Vartyne save King Ulrich himself. A man of power and influence. A man who I sorely underestimated, seeing as merely a fop. A man I lost everything to. A man named Ralf Schwaltz, Lord of the Schwaltzwood.”

You lean forward slightly on your stool. Your neighbor to the south, eh? Interesting, and it's good to know more of him considering he has asked you for Albeda's hand when this is over.

“Lord Schwaltz was a peacock, but a jovial one. He near charmed my Alia with the sweet words hidden beneath his bombastic mien, but I mocked his every move and gesture to her in private until she laughed, and when she laughed at him I felt triumph, knowing she was mine. I even began in secret to plan how we could escape, live together in some cottage by the sea where no one cared who we were or that we were in love, that she was my blossom, my pearl, my everything. I was careless. Within a week of his arrival, that spider had his fingers on everything within the household, every servant in his pocket. To this day I don't know who betrayed us, but Alia's sweet face was betwixt my thighs in the garden when he strolled in on us, with not a hint of surprise on his features.”

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Her face twists with ugly emotions, anguish and bitterness and hate, “He could have just let it go! We were both women. There was no chance of bastards in her womb from me. I would have let him bed her once if a child was needed, he could have any maid in his province and neither of us would have said a word, content to keep up appearances while all loved as they willed in private. Yet no. There was no chance of that. His wife to be was his, and his alone, and naught else would satisfy his pride. The pride and spite of men is without measure. He denounced her, loudly, before Lord Aester and all of his assembled guests. Named her fornicator and tribade, looked me in the eyes and smiled, and asked which of us had led the other astray. I heard her sob, and my heart broke, yet before I could challenge him with my flames...were a commoner like me even allowed to do so...her brother stepped forward. Eurot, sword in hand, would not hear his family honor besmirched. Sometimes I wonder if it was for Alia's sake, but more often I think it was for his father.”

“He named Lord Ralf a liar. Frontier trash, seeking to create scandal and leave his father indebted to him for his own ends. His sister, he insisted, was a virgin pure, and I a trusted family retainer who knew my station. He mocked Ralf Schwaltz, who had apparently negotiated hard on the dowry, asking how many more cattle and bolts of silk he hoped to secure with this facade. For just a moment, my heart soared, thinking that we were saved...and then I saw Lord Aester's face, and knew that he knew the truth from how Alia clung to my arm. Then I saw Lord Ralf's smile, and the terror grew in Lord Aester's face as the Forest Lord stepped forward, hand upon the pommel of his sword, and ask Eurot quietly whether he would retract his insults or back them with steel. Eurot had miscalculated gravely. He was a boy who had some tutoring, fighting a grown man who had had the finest instruction money could buy, but retreat was not in his nature. It was almost as if he stepped forward and impaled himself on Lord Ralf's blade. The fury of his charge undone with a single, casual movement. Eurot dropped dead to the floor, and Lord Ralf wiped his sword clean on Lord Aester's doublet, patted his cheek, and strode laughing from the hall. Lord Aester turned to look at us, and I will never forget how he had aged in that moment, and how everything but hate had washed from his face. His male heir lost. His female heir, dishonored, for as he left Lord Ralf promised merrily to tell this tale to whoever else sought Alia's hand. I knew that the warm campfire of our happy future was now naught but embers, but how little I understood of the cruelty of nobles. How willing they were to break the only good members of their kind. How evil, how vile this structure I yearn to tear down is. Even Lord Ralf's suffering later was no just recompense.”

[Continue]

Okay what does telling her villain origin sob story is supposed to accomplish here

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“When exactly was this?” You cut in. You remember hearing somewhere that Lord Ralf had killed at least one man in a duel, but you had assumed it was over the rumors that it hadn't been a hunting accident that killed his predecessor.

“Just before the Cheillan War, as shall soon become apparent. With raspy voice that shook with rage, Lord Aester bid his guards imprison us. Alia and I were locked in separate rooms, the servants forbidden on pain of death to speak with us when they delivered food. The only way we had to communicate was by knocking on the wall that divided us, to let the other know that we were still alive. That our hearts still did beat. I thought for certain, if we just endured, we would survive this. My station and fear still restrained me, I had Alia to protect, if I simply burned down the door and took her hand and fled, I feared she would come to harm, and so...curse me...I behaved. Then one day, after I know not how many weeks, how many months, we were summoned back to Lord Aester's great hall. He had, at last, found a new husband for Alia. One who had insisted I accompany his new bride to his household.”

She gulps, and shudders, her voice breaking slightly, “When I saw him, I thought...surely, Lord Aester is speaking with the groom's father. He was not a young man. Balding. Middle-aged. He was built like...like a great toad, fat and hideous. Lord Tralger Murlon, was his name. A rich and influential man of the Capital, a noble of Magdal itself. Yet I scarce noticed him, for Alia was with me again, and I resolved whatever the circumstances we would survive them together. Love, I believed, was stronger than anything else in this world. We would endure. He inspected Alia and I like cattle, and pronounced us satisfactory, then resumed talking with Lord Aester as if us overhearing was of no object. The subject of the night was revenge. Both men were gloating over the circumstances of Lord Ralf Schwaltz, and this is the part that you should pay most heed to.”

Her eyes meet yours, and she speaks slowly, “Though I knew not at the time, the King had just declared war on Cheill, and these two lords were gloating over the composition of the troops. Of note, not a single soldier from Old Vartyne was being sent to war, only the Frontier Provinces, under the command of that most terrifying of sorcerers. I speak, of course, of Sister Oath's teacher and your coincidental father, Lord Arnveis Absol. They drank many a toast to the fact that Lord Schwaltz's province was being bled dry of men, and spoke openly of new prospects for investment, and new land to be available in the provinces for their use, as well as Cheill itself. At the time, I cared little, though I came to understand the importance of this later.”

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She takes a deep breath, and licks her lips, “That night, Alia and Lord Tralger were married. There was no great ceremony, no cake, no fine dress, no party, none of the things that are done for the glory and enjoyment of the bride. There was only a simple exchange of vows, spoken through Alia's tears...though my beloved was brave, for Lord Tralger had assured her that her cooperation was saving my life. An exchange of vows, and...and the bedding...” She shakes as her voice quivers, “By Mihto I begged him to take me instead. I pleaded with him, near swallowed my bile and attempted to service him there and then, and for my pains received a clout across the face. Then he spoke to me, quietly, so she could not hear. No, he wanted Alia first. He enjoyed hurting women, he had chosen us so that he could hurt us, and that he would spend the rest of his life tormenting us. That was why he wanted me too, to watch, to listen, to pleasure him later so Alia in her own gilded cage could hear me cry, to delight in our suffering and separation. Two little birds with clipped wings. I was returned to my room, but I could hear...I could hear her scream. It was not hard. He was so much bigger than her, and a woman unprepared is...small, and delicate. He obviously took no pains to ready her for...for...”

Her face goes pale, and for a moment you think she's about to vomit, but she chokes it back and glares at you. “The next day, I saw how bitterly satisfied Lord Aester looked, and knew that he had never seen his daughter as more than a tool, that he held her responsible for the death of the child he valued. Lord Tralger boasted that tonight, he would have me, and he laughed. Alia, limping, with none of the life left in her eyes, was left unguarded for but a minute...and gods, gods I should have saved her. 'I'm sorry. I can't.' Four words, like drops of falling blood, and she threw herself off a balcony above the gardens. I remember them shouting, ignoring me and running downstairs. I remember seeing her...the blood, like a red flower blossoming around her. I...I moved my feet, and every drop of love and grief and rage that had been pent up inside me burst forth. I danced. I danced a spell I did not know, one that came from the heart, scarce aware of what I was doing as the flames rose hundreds of feet and carried me with them. The lords' soldiers, mages and swordsmen alike, burned like candles when my gaze fell on them. I stood in the sky, a giant of love and grief, and sobbed my Alia's name. When I came to, naught remained but ash. The manor was gone, and the gardens, my darling Alia and every monster that surrounded her. To this day, I remember the horror on Lord Aester and Lord Tralger's faces as I erased them from this world with a gesture.”

[Continue]

>>4566667

It's her choosing to use her defense to try and emotionally sway the headsmen in her favour rather than provide actual reasoning. Too bad for her that it's not Old Vartyne, where politicking and filibuster rule, but the Frontier, where people band together against the threats of all where her trial is being held. If she wanted to impress the smallfolk with demands for throwing off the chains of the nobility, she should have gone to Galdynfyrgenbach, they'd more than happily assist her in that regard.

>>4566671
I continue to fail to see how this is relevant to anything other than finding that this girl is not only guilty of treason to the Absols but most of the country...

>>4566671
And she's holding us responsible for the actions of another of our peers? In a different province, even? And so you burned the servants, the mages, the soldiers who did nothing but swear loyalty to that lord?

>>4566675
Clearly she's perfect bedfellows with Albeda in having zero regard for any other living being

>>4566673

There is a very specific new detail buried in all of her "poor me" talk.

>>4566679
You mean her skirting around accusing out mother of being unfaithful and us not being a real Absol?

>>4566669
>“Though I knew not at the time, the King had just declared war on Cheill, and these two lords were gloating over the composition of the troops. Of note, not a single soldier from Old Vartyne was being sent to war, only the Frontier Provinces, under the command of that most terrifying of sorcerers. I speak, of course, of Sister Oath's teacher and your coincidental father, Lord Arnveis Absol. They drank many a toast to the fact that Lord Schwaltz's province was being bled dry of men, and spoke openly of new prospects for investment, and new land to be available in the provinces for their use, as well as Cheill itself. At the time, I cared little, though I came to understand the importance of this later.”

Huh. Really makes you wonder...

>>4566679
I'm picking up that the capitol was trying to weaken the frontier so they could pick up expansion opportunities.
Schwaltz's men, our father. Sent to die in Chell?

Should we be expecting more foreign backers of Albeda, or at least more nobles seeking to leverage the Swamp's weakened position?

>>4566671

She failed and betrayed her oaths as a bodyguard, subverted a noblewoman to her own desires, foiled attempts at her lover to enter a marriage (despite the constant refusals being bound to eventually burden the family with worse and worse suitors), caused the son to die at the hands of Lord Ralf (tarnishing the Aester and Schwaltz names in the process), and basically annihilated an entire noble household by her own hand. All for the sake of her own wants. The wall awaits.

At least we've gained a bit more of a better idea of how Schwaltz is. Interesting to see how easily he wins friends amongst another's household. A bit of a cruel, possessive and prideful streak too. Good to note for later. Also useful to find out that it was only Frontier men who died in Cheill. Might be the Old nobility trying to sway a despondent and depressed king to sub-divide the lands further, giving them something more than household guards and an estate to their name.

>>4566669
Vartyne King conspired with Cheill to weaken frontier provinces and remove potential revolt related threats.

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She smiles, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I walked. Barefoot and clad in ashes. North, because that was where the road took me. I had some idea of setting the Schwaltzwood aflame, but by the time I reached it, I had no spirit left. I walked, waiting for the moment when I could walk no more after sleeping, when I would lay down and die, my last ember fading away, and see my Alia again. It did not matter, the villages I passed through were bereft of hope. Everywhere I heard the wailing of families who had lost loved ones. Children. Parents. Siblings. Spouses. Lovers. A world of ash without, reflecting the world of ash within. Eventually, I made it through the forest. More than one bandit had died by my hand, for I had passed through some fear, some hesitation within my heart, and come out from it a master of the flames. Yet it didn't matter. What was power without Alia? What was freedom without love? A flame without fuel dies, and so it was with me. When I reached the place where the forests ends, and the swamps begin, a fever had taken hold in my flesh and I collapsed in the road. I believed I was dead. I accepted it.”

As long-winded as she is, those facing death are entitled to speak their piece, and so you let her continue, “It would have been better if death accepted you, too.”

She sneers, “Typical boy and typical noble both! I woke in a hut, in an abandoned village built among the boughs of the largest willows I had ever seen...”

“Weeptree.” You know exactly what she is talking about. The swamp isn't exactly full of abandoned towns matching that description. “Let me guess, you were saved by Albeda?”

“Yes. I woke to find myself in a hut...”

“In Weeptree.” You note. If she's going to play this stupid self-pitying game you might as well enjoy it, “With Albeda in bed beside you, naked and wanton, and you forgot your Alia at once, right?”

She snarls at you, “Your parents should have slapped you more often! No, she was there in mourning, clad in sackcloth and ashes, so that snot-nosed little BEASTS like you could not see her weep for her dying teacher. She found me and nursed me back to health. Bit by bit, I told her my tale, and she told me hers, and unlike you she noticed the significance of the fact that NARY A SINGLE SOUL FROM OLD VARTYNE WAS SENT INTO THAT HELLPIT OF A WAR!” Her voice rises to a shout.

Cailm vaults up onto the back of the platform, “A wagon approaches by the east road.” He whispers in your ear, “Draped in flags of parley.” He's panting for breath, he must have run all the way here, “...Albeda, and three long-haired albinos.”

>[Accept the parley]
>[Deny the parley]

>>4566681
How about her hating Ralf with a loathing passion?

She may be useful, if only cucking Ralf out of a wife.

>>4566687
>[Accept the parley]

Oh boy, the fun part has arrived .

Now, remember lads, it's probably a Glass Diplomat, to denying it will be fruitless.

>>4566686

By all accounts up until the big fuckery wuckery curse happened the Cheillan war was very one-sided. The Cheillans were horribly outnumbered and out-magicked.

>>4566687
>[Deny the parley]

We need to institute a shoot all Albedas once policies and openly refuse to deal with any of her dammed glass whores
I genuinely doubt she's here

>>4566687

>[Accept the parley]

Looks like the three white wolves and another Glass Diplomat arriving. They can wait until after the trial though, parleys are done in private after all.

>>4566687
>>[Deny the parley]
They should've came before the trial

>>4566692
Or only accept the Parlry if one the white wolves strikes Albeda to prove she's real

>>4566690
Also, don't forget the Wolf Trio that's there. We just got the Pack semi-into the fold, why waste all that work?

>>4566687
>[Accept the parley]
Glass diplomat. Time to request her to take a needle to prove she's actually there, and if not we can try to talk to the Wolves.

>>4566701

Walking up and slapping the fuck out of her the moment she starts talking is perfectly acceptable. If she's a Glass Diplomat then you only have the albinos to deal with. You have utter plausible deniability by this point.

>>4566671
Huh. I know that spell...

>>4566704
Well the first Glass diplomat did suggest we slap her....

>>4566685
Don't see it like that at all. The nobles conspired to kill our father, so I see justice in their deaths.

>>4566706
Big ole Smoke and steel gauntlet slap right to her face....
A genuine shame our strength is very low

>>4566707

It's true that letting her live would be just taking the biggest shit in the coffee of any surviving relatives of those lords. Sometimes mercy isn't about people deserving to live, it's about their enemies deserving to be salty. Of course, she did try to assassinate you and you do have a big cool thorn wall just ripe for crucifying people on.

Also, forgot to tack on that, apparently to Char, Albeda left for Weeptree to weep in silence. Not to see her teacher interred with his ancestors. Not to pay the final respects owed to the man who sheltered her after the ravages of the Dancing Fever took every last soul in Weeptree. Not to stand with the people who were safeguarded by Arnveis the Black. Not to stand with the household, who mourned Arnveis the Father, who loved his wife dearly and missed her ever since she passed on. To weep alone, in silence, so that others couldn't see her tears. Nevermind that no one else would see them for the tears of their own. Fuck her, and the crocodile tears she loves to shed. She has more in common with the R*ds than the Absols.

>>4566704

>'Smack My Bitch Up' intensifies.

>>4566707

Yeah, we'll have to deal with those snakes in the grass. Something to look forward to after we deal with our shit, and the shit of our neighbours.

>>4566713
I see things differently. A student with a loving master, the only father she ever knew... and he chose his son over her. That would have been very upsetting if it was Jakob on the other foot.

>>4566717
Agreed. They will get their just deserts.

>>4566713

A correction. This would be before your father died, he took a LONG time to die but it was apparent for a long time that he was not getting better.

>>4566721

I feel like it has come up before, but Lord Arnveis never explicitly said "you take over, Jakob." When he was dying and blind, he grabbed your arm and said your name shortly before the end, nothing more. However, you're...you know...also his only son and blood heir.

Oh, start rolling dice. Sense+Empathy roll.

>>4566713
Don't forget that like a week passes before she sends a night hunter with a bomb, before even attempting to perhaps negotiate.

>>4566721
I'm willing to hear her out, but this still reads like she's attempting a temper tantrum over not being picked to rule.

If she had stayed, she would have been a valued advisor, someone useful. We didn't like each other, but we weren't gonna toss her out on a whim.
At least, I wouldn't.

>>4566727
Damn. Well, I don't think that came up earlier.

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>4566730
But Wong
I have no empathy for Char

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>4566730
Dice time!

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>4566730

Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>4566711
That's not the only reason I see a reason for her to live. I know of the power of that final spell she cast. The fact of the matter, despite the mistakes she made in her past, she could still be of much use. She is an Archmagi of her craft, after all.

>>4566727
Yes, but I am trying to see from her perspective here. It doesn't make her right, but it does explain much.

>>4566730
Dice!

>>4566731

Braidbeard actually mentioned it specifically in Thread 2.

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>4566721

Fair enough. I dunno, I'm still on the 'Fuck Albeda' train though. Too much bad blood boiling up, and if things were different, things would be different.

>>4566727

>Albeda's just salty that Lord Arnveis wanted comfort from his son before he passed on.

Hoes mad.

>>4566730

Dice! Glad Lilly helped us out boosting this earlier.

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>4566730
See I feel like we should point out that all her story shares is her complete lack empathy for all the house staff, guards, soldiers visiting people whom she murdered in mass,
And her total lack of ability to take responsibility for her own actions.
What a disgusting person.
Should just hang her on the wall for her greater crimes to the realm on principle alone...

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>4566730

>>4566731
I agree, but people do fucked up shit when in deep grief. Emotions tend to fuck up the thought process a bit. She's still a moron for doing it though,

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>4566730

dice for the dice pit

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>4566734
>>4566735
>>4566736

>trip 7s out the gate.

Noice.

Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>4566734
>>4566735
>>4566736
Lucky tripple 7's
Slot machine jackpot
>>4566730

>>4566739
Fair. I understand completely, I just disagree as to the punishment. There should be something, just not death.

>>4566734
>>4566735
>>4566736

Jackpot

>>4566738
But he's a mook. How the fuck would he know what's on Albeda's mind, and what isn't propaganda?

>>4566747
We should let the people who were harmed or lost something in her futile rebellion decide, no?

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“Let them into the camp. Bring them straight here.” You quietly instruct Cailm, who nods and dashes off to do as you asked. You then raise your voice again. “It is simultaneously an interesting and infuriating detail, but it doesn't support your central point regarding legitimate authority and why you I am purportedly not one on my lands, which I inherited from my father, who inherited them from his father, who inherited them from his father, who inherited them from his mother...matrilineal marriage due to no male heirs...and so on and so forth.”

She spits at you, “There you sit, a good and loyal subject of the King who is an enemy of your own people! Who betrayed them AND your father to their deaths! Yet for the sake of your own power, you tow the line, you remain a good little subject, rather than making way for the woman who can actually WIN! Who EARNED her power, while all you have is your blood! The same sort of blood that gave Lord Aester and Lord Tralger the idea that they had the right to just...just crush and trample anyone who was below them! How can you support such a monstrous way of living!? It isn't right! It isn't just! It isn't human!” She breaks down into incoherent sobs of rage and grief, her shoulders heaving.

Thankfully you're saved from dealing with crying traitors as you spot the approaching wagon. The smokemass platforms line the boardwalks, and so it's easy for your men to halt the wagon, practically tear it apart looking for things like hidden bear sculptures or other magical nonsense, and march the four people on it to you under the heaviest possible guard.

Three of them are utterly identical. Slender, with waist-length hair, soft-looking, pale as milk, with dark blue eyes, you can't tell whether they are male or female. Their teeth are as sharp as a wolf's, as sharp as Twull's, when they look at you with an unkind smile. The fourth is Albeda, a haughty expression on her face that softens when she sees Sister Char. “Naiada!” She calls out, “Naiada, I am here!”

Sister Char looks up, her face streaked with wet, smiling tremulously, “I know. I kept talking and talking, knowing if I just bought time...”

[Continue]

>>4566747
I'd be down for picking her up as an advisor or something, was never a fan of the murderbus for Albeda. Use her rather than just waste her. If we knew she was not going to stab us in the back immediately, that is.

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“Just as I told you to do if you were put on trial. Good.” Albeda is clad in far more finery than you are used to. She wears a broad-brimmed, peaked hat whose band is pierced through with a pin in the shape of the Absol eye, and patterns of golden eyes mark her black robes all over. Strangely, her eyes don't settle on you at first. They go all over the dais, as if searching for you, then finally settle on you with a startled look. Her pupils dilate, and you see her bite the inside of her cheek. “Jakob?” She asks almost hesitantly as you stand up and make your way towards her, “When did you get so tall? I-”

You take off your gauntlet and slap her across the face as hard as you can, “Magical constructs are not protected under the terms of parley.” You inform her.

She reels, and rather than turning to shards of broken glass, she turns very, very red, “You little IMP!” She raises her hand to slap you back, but you're clad in glassy smoke and stalwart steel, so she kicks your kneecap instead to no more effect. Then punches your bicep, hissing with rage like an angry goose, “Take off that damned helmet you...you dishonorable, usurping...!” She's far more flustered than she should be.

The three albinos look concerned.

>[Slap her again]
>[Laugh at her]
>[Say something to bring the temperature down]

>>4566753
>[Say something to bring the temperature down]

Now we can have a proper talk.

>>4566753
>>[Laugh at her]
Have you come to listen to your little whelp's final words?

>>4566753
>[Say something to bring the temperature down]
>Alright, now that I can actually talk to someone that isn't a magical construct, what's your opening offer.

>>4566667
for the jury, haven't you watch trials before?

>>4566753
>Say nothing for a bit and just stare her down till she stops
Maybe we risk rolling Intimidation?
>Are you done throwing your childish spat yet? Have you finished running away from home? Did you have a nice sleep over with your friends?
>I sent your night light to you as soon as I knew you weren't coming back, couldn't let you be scared of the dark.
Well talk to you like an adult when you act like one

>>4566750
Heh. To my knowledge, the only people who died en-mass were the Pentagram. Why should they get a vote in what happens to their leader?

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>>4566753
>Laugh at her
I have no idea how I read through that whole sob story.
Amazing filibuster Char.

>>4566761
Oohhh, I like that.

>>4566753

>[Say something to bring the temperature down]

"Now that we have established that you are flesh and blood, instead of glass like the Albeda who attempted murder of the Absol via bear statuette, or the Albeda who attempted to bellow her way into Castle Briarfast at the head of a band of traitorous cohorts, the parley will occur after the trial. You may stand witness, but as you do not have the mask and robes to represent Weeptree, you will not be allowed to render verdict as a headwoman. I will not be removing my helm, as is my right as the Absol overseeing the trial."

Be cool, it's not our fault she is trying to subvert swamp law for the life of a mass murdering assassin.

>>4566764
And then we just hit her with the
>You broke my heart when you didn't come dad's funeral.
Even if we don't mean it completely

>>4566753

>>4566761 Supporting this

>>4566766
I love it! It's perfect, and will take the wind right out of her sails!

>>4566766
Ouch, that's cold.

Should probably address the White Ones. Why'd they come, and who are they?

Mostly to see what they introduce themselves as. Representatives of Grey, or claiming leadership themselves?

>>4566761
>>4566766

These are both pretty good. Being a bit petty isn't really something to do in front of the people, but may as well make it look as foolish and weak as it is.

>>4566753
>[Say something to bring the temperature down]

you got fat again

>>4566775
It's even worse if we say it as genuine and caring as Lily's lessons allow

>>4566765
Something like this, but don't acknowledge her as having legitimate power as a headwoman.

Also roll sense to see if she's brought any more bear statues or the like with her.

>>4566780
I mean, it was genuine at the time. I'm sure it'll shine through.

>>4566783
And they were already checked for that, lad.

>>4566783

Our people pretty much ripped apart the wagon looking for statuettes. Not a guarantee, but still worth mentioning.

The bit about headwoman of Weeptree is more acknowledging the fact that she is probably the only person from there now. If she tries to lever that fact as being their Headwoman, since she (and the TWWs if they try the same tact representing Dampmeade,) doesn't have the regalia that the Headwoman is supposed to have as signifier of office, she is not allowed to stand on the jury. It's what prevents people from just saying that they're the leader of the village in judicial matters like this.

>>4566784
Fair, in my defense I never learned to read, the rest of my vote stands and I need to learn to read

>>4566788
That raises more questions than it answers, anon.

Good ideas so far. Gimme a Sense+Eerie roll while you're touching her to see if you can feel any magic items on her.

>>4566787
I mean, she's also criminally negligent. Or stupid. After all, she's trying to wiggler her way in here on a technicality, after two failed attempts at usurpation, that latter of which caused more deaths on her side than ours.

Though I do find it hilarious how she intentional demoted herself to a Headwoman of an empty village.

>>4566784

She wasn't, though, so start rolling dice.

>>4566790
Eyes up?

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>4566790
Dicemen, assemble!

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>4566790
A failed roll, that is.

>>4566766
honestly with this sob story i want jakob's youthful angst to come out and him complain that being a noble is not easy.

learning the laws, disciplining yourself to be proper and shouldering all the responsibilities etc. etc.

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>4566790
Dice for the Dice gods

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>4566790
Let the dice flow though you...

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>4566790

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>4566790
Another die

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>4566790

>>4566799
Hey! It's not over until the dice are in! Now, no more of that defeatist crap. To victory!

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>4566790

If this bitch is really about to break a parley...

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>4566790

Yet more dice!

Rolled 6 (1d10)

You're all filthy lucky, keep rolling dice. There's a lot of Sense+Empathy opportunities here too.

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>4566790
We really, really, REALLY need tp boost our Eerie skill to something other than 1

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>4566808
By the power of yandere shadow grill waifus

Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>4566805
Was referring to me failing my roll attempt here
>>4566797

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>4566790
>>4566810

More.... Dice...

>>4566800
And watching your family try and take your birthright from you, while tearing apart the realm your father cherished. It's too easy to go down that route...

Alright, good. Luckily your Passions netted you the first roll, then you got a quick 3x6 instantly on the second.

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>4566810
>>4566790
Something about your MC's grant the blessings of Lady luck and madam fortune

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>4566810
Says the dice addict!

>>4566813
Oh. Well, rip dice post.

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>4566811

Yeah, that's probably the next skill we should boost up when we get a chance. Too many risks that we just scraped through with lucky Sense+Eerie rolls so far.

Rolled 10 (1d10)

More yandere shadow waifu power

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>4566819
>>4566811
Just upgrade our Sense stat overall. It'll save us in the long run.

>>4566816

>Jakob's wish for a worthy wife comes into play, saving his life while he cops a feel on Albeda.

L-lewd.

>>4566822
Kek

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>4566822

Forgot to add some more dice.

>>4566822
>They go all over the dais, as if searching for you, then finally settle on you with a startled look. Her pupils dilate, and you see her bite the inside of her cheek.
Tall man making the ladies swoon in full smokeplate.

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>4566816
So, do we keep rolling?

>>4566822
Well dad's not around to tell us not to pump his apprentice full of bastards anymore.....
Though now she needs to compete against Hannah, Grandmama's chosen Shadowbinder, Lil and Ameranthe lady breed of goats and ill begotten gold, assuming she gets her rolls together and gives us a decent game of Regicide

>>4566829
Thought Wong said we were good here
>>4566816

>>4566832
I thought so too, but then another anon rolled, so I thought we might need more dice.

>>4566828

>Meanwhile, in Swamp Lady Quest;
>oh no, he's hot.
>we're saving ourselves for Char, Jakob-shitters get out, reeee...
>told you we should've gone with another Mirror Diplomat, gonna be fucking shit getting through all that armor.
>fuk u yurifag, Ralf did nothing wrong.

>>4566837
Wong's hunger for dice will never end, but it can temporarily be sated.

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>4566837
MORE DICE?

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>4566838
Double kek.

>>4566839
>>4566841
ALRIGHTY THEN!

>>4566831
The trio, potentially...

>>4566838
>>Meanwhile, in Swamp Lady Quest;
>>oh no, he's hot.
Oh yeah, nothing turns the ladies on more than a man with a MD in Sorcery, fully clad in steel with a smoke paint job

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For a moment, you can't help but laugh as she blows on her knuckles and winces in pain from trying to bully someone clad in so much armor. That laughter fades a little when you see Hannah in the crowd, her sword partially out of her sheath, only slowly putting it away as

She hasn't even put herself in a position of prominence. She's right next to one of the merchants who came with Headwoman Marin of Hookslaw. The one in the...oh. Nevermind.

“Are you down throwing your childish spat yet? Have you finished running away from home? Did you have a nice sleepover with your friends?” You can't keep your voice entirely polite, “Did you get your nightlight? I sent it to you as soon as I knew you weren't coming back. Couldn't let you be scared of the dark...and it was a damned sight kinder than what you sent my brother of the Pack with.”

The three albinos bare their teeth. “You? One of us? Silence, whelp.” One of them hisses, its voice contralto and oddly rusty, as if they aren't used to the human tongue.

You wheel on them, “Were we not under a flag of parley I would silence you myself. I am one of the Pack, and have won challenge with these who now serve me.” You gesture at Twull and his students, “Funny how they were all taught by someone of your rank who is out of the province, I didn't see any of your students running into our billhooks. Selling out your own family is unworthy of even a jackal. Muzzle yourself, curs.” If they attacked you here they would be cut down consequence-free, but they don't take the bait, simply snarling at you.

Truthfully you're not that confident. Until you're as good at countermagic as your father, they might know any number of tricks to defeat your strategy of flying and throwing arcane missiles at them. You turn back to Albeda, “It broke my heart not seeing you at the funeral.”

You put your hand on her shoulder, and extend your arcane senses. Surprisingly, you detect no magical items on her. No carvings, no mirrors. “What went into the ground was just a husk. The man I admired above all others, he had already departed. There was no need for me to be there.” But her last sentence comes too late, you've already detected the lie in her words.

“You wanted to be there, didn't you?” You ask her, softly, so softly no one else can hear.

She responds in the same quiet voice, “Of course I did. He was a father to me. I couldn't, though. I was voted down. Now will you please take off your helmet? Talking to you through it is...it's uncomfortable.”

“Voted down?” You stare at her in noncomprehension.

>[Remove helmet]
>[Do not remove helmet]

>>4566849
>[Remove helmet]

We will not show fear, or weakness.

>>4566849
>[Do not remove helmet]
Paranoia, sorry sister.

>>4566822

I want to deny it but this was literally what happened.

>>4566849
>[Do not remove helmet]
>I refuse to remove my Sigal while you clad yourself in it, remove your own eye before you dain me remove mine
We aren't removing our symbol of authority silly girl

>>4566849
>[Do not remove helmet]

you're no baby yoda!

>>4566849

>[Do not remove helmet]

I don't know if you noticed, but a trial is going on right now Albeda, keep up gurl. You wouldn't ask the judge to take his robes off in the middle of a hearing. giddedy.

>>4566854

Bueno.

>>4566857
He eats fetuses, dude.

>>4566858
Double giddedy

Interesting, I like this take on it. Would you remove her helmet if she also divested herself of symbols of Absol authority? Jakob knows her well enough to know that this is just a case of the helmet getting under her skin.

>>4566849
>>[Do not remove helmet]

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>>4566860
>fetuses

Those eggs were unfertilized.

>>4566862

I mean, we'll have to set aside our cloak as well, since we have the eye on our brooch too iirc. Not sure how much more of our armour has the eye on it though. If it's on the breastplate, no dice. It would be fitting for a parley though, if we're trying to talk it out as 'equals' in this matter.

>>4566862
Sure. I saw wearing it in her presence as a sign of weakness anyway, though I do like the formal perspective more.

>>4566865
How would you know? That's a living sapient beings babies he's eating right now. Plus, there was that aborted spider egg as well.

>>4566862
Either we are even as Absols
Or we are even as persons
How does she want to talk?
As pseudo siblings or as two people claiming right to rule?
But yeah, if she removes hers, we'll remove ours
Giggidy

>>4566862

Maybe after the trial has concluded, until then no.

>>4566862
Eh, I'll swap to supporting this, if it really is a phobia of hers or something.

>>4566868

Most species of frogs fertilize externally.

>>4566872
Would the frog see it as a snack, or an abortion?

>>4566871

Less a phobia and more nerdy scholar girl social awkwardness. Albeda wasn't always stacked, attractive, and confident. It's hard talking to people when you can't meet their eyes and they're just an intimidating Dark Lord figure, especially when you used to bully them.

>>4566849
>[Do not remove helmet]
Trying to get the headgear advantage on us?
Clever girl, but any lord worth his salt knows the importance of funny hats.

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You keep patting her down, no sense in letting her know that your arcane senses are more keen than she remembers. Pat pat pat. “I refuse to remove my sigil while you're wearing it. This helmet comes off when your sigil does.”

What happens next stuns you. Her hat hits the smokeglass floor, then she pulls her robe off over her head, and tosses it onto the ground, standing before you in a breastwrap and bloomers, arms folded challengingly, “Off. I can't talk to you through that thing.”

You stare at her, and slowly remove your helmet, handing it off to Cailm, who has mysteriously appeared at your side the MOMENT he saw a tit and is staring with you. Pat pat pat.

She gives you a look, “I'm going to assume that the Glass Diplomat I left behind in the castle explained in broad strokes, perhaps a bit annoyed as I would be in her shoes, what the Pentacle is about. Noble blood is not a good measure of who should rule. Erudition and arcane might are, and are traditional to the swamps before Vartyne instituted a noble family who fortunately integrated and adopted, for the most part, the Old Ways. I may be the executive head of the Pentacle, with the oath I swore to avenge Lord Arnveis by breaking Vartyne's hold on the Absol Swamp, but I cannot simply overrule three senior archmagi and one very talented peer.” She gestures her head towards Sister Char, who is once again straining at her bonds and trying to wheel her chair over with her toes. “Everyone but me agreed that it was very likely you would throw me in the dungeon the moment you had the Lord's Seat under your backside. A Pentacle has five points, and five seats that vote on matters of import.”

“You tried to have me killed, Albeda. Twice.” You point out, “Even Grandmama has told me to kill you, not imprison you.” Pat pat pat.

She snorts, “Grandmama. Be wary around her, I know more about her now than I would like. Let's just say I've heard a thing or two from Brother Gloam that have me convinced her advice is entirely aimed at helping herself. Not you.”

“You tried to have me killed, Albeda. Twice.” You repeat it with slightly more emphasis. Pat pat pat.

“It was very unlikely the bear would do more than badly injure you, and a Jakob crying like an infant in his sickbed is a Jakob who could not stop me walking in and taking Castle Briarfast.” She clicks her tongue as if chiding you for holding something petty against her.

“You sent a chimera to rip me limb from limb!” You are slightly louder this time. Pat pat pat.

[Continue]

>>4566876
She's still in shock from that MD in Sorcery giving us an extra 6 inches of vertical lift

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>>4566876

No better time than the present for this then.

>>4566883
Still love it btw anon.

>>4566880
>>>She snorts, “Grandmama. Be wary around her, I know more about her now than I would like. Let's just say I've heard a thing or two from Brother Gloam that have me convinced her advice is entirely aimed at helping herself. Not you.”
AHEM
>And whose fault is it that she is one of the most prominent advisors I have now?
>Had you not insisted on this course of action you would have had the seat beside me, you are family and Father's most powerful apprentice, he groomed you to be by my side and help me foe once he was gone Albeda.
Engage objection

>>4566885
>foe
Phone why are you adding random words?

>>4566885
Add to the fact she could have just told us the old noble houses conspired to kill dad, and we probably would have joined her. Like, not even a letter? She has a Glass diplomat for fucks sake!

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She rolls her eyes, “Yes, I'm not denying it. I tried to have you killed. Quickly and humanely. For what it's worth, the vote on whether to have you killed was three to two.” She gives Sister Char a withering glance, “Not in my favor.”

You just stare at her, but she sounds like she's telling the truth, “What?” Pat pat...squish.

“I won't tell you who voted which way, although I suspect from who led the attack that you can guess at least one. I opposed it. Regardless of what the prophecy says. But I had committed, I had sworn the same blood oath to our cause as the others, and so I had to abide by the vote. I chose something that would kill you quickly, a moment of surprise, a moment of pain, then blackness. Hardly being crucified on the wall, now is it?” She looks down at your hand on her breast, then pats your cheek, “You've got a harder look in your eyes than I remember. If nothing else, this has been good for you. You're stronger than you were when you first took your seat, weren't you?” How closely has she been examining you, or is it all a bluff?

“Stronger than you keep trying to tell people I am, anyway. I've never mewled in my life!” Squish squish squish.

She pinches your ear, “You have so. You used to mewl all the time. Listen to me. I mean it, listen. Naiada isn't lying. We were sacrificed. Someone knew that Cheill had that curse or...whatever it was in their back pocket, buried behind all that sanctimonious religious nonsense they believe about the evils of magic. Someone used it to kill our people, and the King was involved. Moreover, I know why.”

“You did mention a prophecy.” You bat her hand away from your ear. You're too old to be bullied by girls...

...a sudden flash of memory, of being pinned against a wall by a girl with black eyes, is quickly dismissed.

“I did. I was also voted down when I proposed telling you about it, but the situation has changed. I'll endure censure if I must for overriding the Pentacle's decision.” She starts to speak, but you cut her off.

“I have to say this first. If you object to Grandmama having the influence she has, take responsibility for it. Whose fault is it that she is one of my most prominent supporters? One of the most powerful advisors I have now? Had you not insisted on rulership, you would have had the seat beside me, you are family and father's most powerful apprentice. He groomed you to be my by side and help me rule once he was gone, Albeda.”

>[I need you. With me.]
>[But you've thrown that away, and for traitors there is only death and exile]

>>4566885
>>4566887

Plus, could also play off sentimentality to not want to kill one out of literally 3 family members we have left in the world. Even if she was the one chosen by Father over us, we wouldn't be trying to marry her off on the R*ds or Schwaltz for brownie points with the other Lords. Maybe set up a meeting with Based Balam to see what happens for her, but we're not the Aesters, selling our relatives off for land and bolts of silk.

>>4566887
Glass DIPLOMAT. DIPLOMAT. Not glass SUICIDE BOMBER.

>>4566892
>[I need you. With me.]
Wrong time, but that's fine I guess.

>>4566895
Also not need, but like to be with, but that's fine too.

>>4566892
>If what you say is true than prove it to me, because if it is I will need you far more in the immediate future than I did when you left me to bury Father alone!

I mean, Cailm WAS there, bit he only counts when I don't want to Taze him.

Catcha stop eating my post

>>4566892

>[But you've thrown that away, and for traitors there is only death and exile]

It's a rough choice, but ultimately, the only one to take. We already know that she won't bend the knee, and there's no point in hiding it. The chance for forgiveness was gone when the bodies of our people died by our retainers hands for her ambitions.

Man, It's weird Interacting with someone with lower Social skills than Jacob.
Especially one that used to bully him by simple virtue of being a bit older.

I've got a huge sinking feeling that she isn't the one pulling the strings of the Pentical.....

I'll add a third option since there's no clear consensus.

>[Keep silence for now on the subject of Albeda's fate]

>[But you've thrown that away, and for traitors there is only death and exile]
>>4566905
Will the real Sister Shell please stand up

>>4566892
>[I need you. With me.]
Or you know you will fall alone. No matter the allies. You may laugh at me, but whatever Elders and Chimeras, the dead who walk under you, there was a reason the Thorndwellers fell.
And If what you say about the King is true, know that I'll bitterly miss every mage who dies fighting amongst us.

>>4566906
>>4566900
>>[Keep silence for now on the subject of Albeda's fate]
Yeah I'll change to this option

>>4566905

Definitely feeling more like the TWWs steering the Ragged Elder and Char steering Albeda. Not sure about Shell, but given Gloam apparently giving more of a damn about his experimentation, it's getting a bit more clear.

>>4566906

>[Keep silence for now on the subject of Albeda's fate]

Swapping over to this then. No point in tipping our hand yet, and she may reveal something in that 'prophecy' that will persuade me.

>>4566906
The problem is that we really can't go for this. Not while we've got Char on trial right now, and WILL execute her most likely, and that will seal the book on Albeda not fighting us.

>>4566892
>>4566906
>[Keep silence for now on the subject of Albeda's fate]

I'll go with this for now since I'm ultimately undecided, But I have to say that If she had any intention of working with us from the beginning, she would have told us this shit and wouldn't have gone through the trouble of building her own little 'No Jakobs Allowed' club. She can try throw the other members under the bus for the assassinations, but she's the one who started the group in the first place.

>>4566914

Nobody can call you a dick for executing someone who tried to have you killed. Especially if they changed the plan for their own personal glory.

>>4566906
>[Keep silence for now on the subject of Albeda's fate]

Sure, why not.

>>4566913

It was 3 to 2. Someone must have voted in our favor.

>>4566914
Honestly, I'm leaning on leniency with Char. She's got some useful magic up her sleeve, and it would definitely help in future wars.

>>4566918
Probably the Ragged Elder, who would have preferred a duel.

>>4566918
Char just admitted to mass murder bro
And she lead an army of OUR swamp landers to their death in an attempt to kill us
She's not just getting a quick slap on the wrists and told not to keep having a raging uncaring disposition to human life

>>4566919
I'm not so sure. Remember, most of the forces in the assassination attempt were the furries. Why send them if he wanted to duel?

>>4566918
>>4566919

Yeah, I think that too, given the distaste Twull had for the plan and what Blem said about The Pack's preferred option being to just mob us with a shit-tonne of wolves to rip us apart while we go hunting or something.

>>4566921
I'm not calling for a slap on the wrist, but that last spell she described is an army killer. It would be undoubtedly useful, given how much fighting may end up doing, especially if we go the rebellion route.

>>4566922
The furries are literally their only footsoldiers until Gloam can begin mass producing the Big Z- I mean Zombies, and from what the prisoners said, they were mostly there to show support and shout down dissenters. They were never meant to actually fight anyone.

>>4566915
Maybe. At the same time, approached when she was at her lowest, grieving over dad's death, and offered an opportunity to rule? I can see that happening. If you're looking at it from a sympathetic point of view.

>>4566918
I'd like to just keep Char locked up also, but people voted to roll her up on trial and execute her, so here we are.

>>4566921
Look that was mass murder of a different province. It can be swept under the rug or played up, as we decide. People with the skill or knowledge to be useful don't always get executed if they're valuable.
See: Wernher von Braun, the nazi rocket scientist for example.

>>4566926
And what's the point of having a weapon like that if it will never willingly serve us and we constantly have to exist in a state where she is plotting to kill us even if Albeda stops her little rebellion?

>>4566892
>[But you've thrown that away, and for traitors there is only death and exile]

>>4566930
>People with the skill or knowledge to be useful don't always get executed if they're valuable.
Yes, people who are willing to serve US, Char clearly has no intention of that even if we take up Albeda's supposed cause.

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For a moment, there is an uncomfortable silence, as if she expects you to say more. “Food for thought.” You finish.

“What I am about to tell you is not to be repeated. To anyone.” She glares at Cailm, “...Go away.”

Cailm doesn't move until you gesture for him to shoo temporarily, and only then does Albeda continue, “It is known to a tiny handful of people, one of whom understood that the reaction to it is doing far more harm than good. It is known that King Ulrich has not been seen in public since the Queen was murdered so brutally her coffin had to be kept closed at her funeral. What isn't known is the lengths he went to to find the culprit, and how deep his paranoia has become. There is a substance I have only seen once, smuggled out of Magdal by one of our associates...whose confidence I cannot betray...known colloquially as godbile. Apparently, it enhances one's arcane abilities and senses, although much as I'm sure you would be I am very hesitant to try it myself when I don't know what it is. Our King does not share these feelings, and apparently, he fed it to his favorite diviner. The woman gazed into her bowl, read the King's future, and fell into a trance, ranting. She saw one great, burning eye rise up over the north in place of the sun, and wherever it looked, other eyes closed, and when its gaze fell upon her she saw the Royal Palace in flames, the flags of the royal family burning. Now, this is just my conjecture, but I think His Majesty in his inbred royal wisdom then decided this meant that the most personally powerful lord in his domain, the terrifying archmage of the swamps, the mailed fist of Vartyne himself, was going to overthrow him. It would not surprise me one bit if he was somehow sabotaged by inside agents during the campaign to ensure he was exposed to whatever vector was used to spread the curse. I also think that like so many famous prophecies, this one ends up being self-fulfilling. Lord Absol's heir destroys the power of the royal line. The question then, is who is his heir, and who stands a better chance of conquering Vartyne.” She puts her hands on your shoulders, and says to you in the softest, quietest voice, “Do you really have the will to do this, Jakob? You were not that sort of child. Imagine that this was no longer about survival, and that the loser need not fear the winner. Which of us is stronger? You know the answer. Which of us could better do this thing?”

>[You...]
>[Me]
>[It will be decided on the field of battle]
>[I'm not convinced we should be rebelling against the crown on this kind of evidence]

>>4566930
People voted for a show trial as bait, and it succeeded. Execution wasn't written in stone. And from the sounds of it, she executed conspirators, so I don't really care about her sins before.

>>4566932
Frankly, I don't think that's the case. Her problem is a prejudice for male nobility, for being corrupt to the core. She may change her tune.

>[Me]
>[I'm not convinced we should be rebelling against the crown on this kind of evidence]

A murder-hobo's sob story does not evidence make.

>>4566930

One thing to point out is that Jakob started out nowhere near as hard or confident as he is now. He has had a series of baller moments that have greatly improved his confidence and made him stronger as a character, including how well he's rolled against Albeda tonight (without giving too much away, you've done good to get this much out of her and not have someone else interfere by now). He could have easily been a Shinji Ikari type who lost to Braidbeard and got rescued by Cailm putting an arrow in the lupomancer, not earned the allegiance of the Pack, survived the assassination attempt due entirely to his bodyguards as he fled the chimera through the halls of the castle, and avoided fighting Char one on one. He has had several opportunities to bitch out and has consistently refused to do so.

>>4566938
>[Me]
>then squeeze those puppies one last time
"the trial resumes!"
>squeeze